"I suppose so. Would probably show overconfidence and pompousness, or something." Vivian replied, removing his hand from her touch for the legitimate reason of having to cut his meat into an edible piece. As he chewed he watched Mia, wondering just what her plan was for tonight. Would she try to seduce him? Well, she'd already done that enough to convince him to go on a date. Would she try to seduce him into bed with her? Possible considering she was a six-crazed- No, that's Demona, not Mia! he cut himself off. But that didn't mean Mia wouldn't try it as well, with a little influence from Demona.

"So... um... What were you planning on doing tonight?"


Iris watched Viuven in horror, her entire face contorting in grimness and terror at the mere suggestion of eating this man alive. The Nord spy wasn't even looking at her, though, but watching the Argonian with hatred in his eyes, which seemed to turn almost red. Iris was about to protest when the Agent sneered.

"Go ahead you beast-man. Devour me! Feast on the flesh of a Servant of Dagon! Feel the magic that flows through my veins, granted to me by my Lord, and by Master Cameron's generosity! Death is a blessing, nothing to fear! If you devour me you will only be consumed by the very magic that empowers the Mythic Dawn, while I shall live on in Paradise!" The Nord grinned sardonically, rolling to look at the Argonian fully.

"I hope you like your meat cooked." The Nord cackled, and burst into flames. Iris gasped as the man's laughter continued despite being burned alive, and the snow around him began to melt, dowsing the flames until his was a smoldering husk of burnt flesh. Iris' lip quivered as she looked at the scene. It was so familiar. She saw a flashback of Zanna, that young upstart inventor, and Lora, that beautiful altmeri girl who gave up her life for everyone. Only to end up smoldering husks, just like him. And it brought Iris to tears, forcing her to turn away from the scene.

"Adeth, when you are finished tying up the second one, give him a good whack on the head to make sure he's out, and we'll take him back up to Cloud Ruler. We need special interrogation tactics with them." She ordered over her shoulder.

Francois Dilborn
Somewhere on the road to Cloud Ruler Temple

The small, aged Breton tossed and turned in his sleep. His dreams were haunted by nightmarish visions. He was clad in his Legionnaire outfit, the Ascended Sleeper bearing down on him, perverted flutes for a mouth, playing evil music. Its diseased eye sockets were empty. Its rotting flesh fell from its body in chunks. It was dying, but still extremely powerful. Francois raised his shield and his Imperial Netch Blade, but to no avail. The monster battered the shield in half and slashed at his fragile face, tearing his helmet off. At the last moment a Redoran Watchman appeared and smashed the monster's skull in. But then his dream changed, twisted. In reality he'd been saved then, but in the dream the Redoran wasn't a Redoran at all. When he turned to face the injured Francois, he slowly morphed into a hellish Dremora Lord, clad in black demon armor. Oblivion Gates began opening all around Ald'Ruhn and the sky turned red.

Francois awoke with a start, gasping for breath, sweating profusely. He looked around and saw that he was not in Morrowind at all. Not anymore. He was in Cyrodill. It was snowing. From the looks of the moon and stars it was after midnight. He'd been sleeping only four or five hours but was restless. These dreams were bad omens. He didn't like the feel of the visions he'd received lately. In the Battlespire he had learned how to read omens, and while he was no Master of Mysticism by any means he knew better than to sit still. He packed his things quickly, dismantling his shoddy camp and waking the donkey. He set out with increased speed for Cloud Ruler Temple.

Unbeknown to him, gates to Oblivion had indeed been opening all across Nirn recently. He'd been lucky enough not to stumble upon any yet. Indeed it could be argued that Luck was an attribute he possessed a lot of. Francois had been born under the sign of the Thief. But would the old man's Luck protect him forever? Time would tell...

Viuven-Ru
Runestones outside Bruma

Viuven watched in horror as the Mythic Dawn agent immolated himself. The man was sick; he found the burning pain pleasurable and laughed in masochistic glee as he burned into nothing more than a charred husk. The rotten stench of burned flesh filled the air as Viuven backed a few steps away, unable to take his eyes off the horrific sight, yet wanting desperately to turn away.

This is what Mehrunes Dagon gives his followers. Viuven thought, Just as this has happened to this spy, so too with the other! The Argonian's crimson eyes turned toward the other spy in Adeth's custody. Viuven crossed the distance in two steps of his long legs. He searched the spy quickly for any type of magickally enchanted item that was identical to what Viuven remembered the first spy wearing.

Viuven found it quickly; a small signet ring on the spy's left finger was identical to one Viuven recalled the other spy as having worn. The Argonian slid the ring off and dropped it onto a rock. He grabbed another rock and slammed it down on the ring, hard enough to crack the stone in two, and hard enough to bend the metal ring out of shape and snap it. The power of an enchanted ring, Viuven knew, was in the circlet itself, and very rarely in the gemstone(s). This having been done, Viuven looked at the other Spy, who was slowly waking up. "Enjoy meat cooked, no anyway." He said with a grin he did not feel.

The Argonian turned away, sweeping past Iris without a word as he felt his scales paling. His head felt light, and Viuven could feel his heart fluttering uncertainly. The tail trailing behind him twitched a certain way, and Viuven's stomach held a certain sensation that caused the Argonian to rush into the bushes as quickly as modesty allowed. Once apart from the others, Viuven pitched over forward, dropping his dinner into the grass. No matter how much death he witnessed, Viuven could still never get used to it. Yet, the dangerous thing was... even now as he puked his guts out, Viuven had almost felt himself enjoy it when the spy had gone up in a blaze. He deserved it. But... this is more than that. You wanted him to die; to be in fear and agony before finally ending his life. You wanted that. You needed that.

Viuven frowned as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, standing up straight as he did so. The words in his head sounded like they came from his mouth, but Viuven knew it was not his voice. They were far too cold and removed for that. Get out of my head! Viuven mentally shouted as he closed his eyes. The Other had broken in during that moment of stress. Viuven felt his hands shaking, and not from the physical shock of emptying his stomach. No, he knew how close a call he'd had just then. Viuven spent a minute balancing on one foot, focusing his mind back to the sharp honed edge he required.

It was difficult. The Other fought him every step of the way. Viuven could feel the familiarity of the Other's mind touching his own as they struggled for supremacy in a single body. But Viuven was physically calm now. His heartrate was steadying, and he was in a moment of intense physical focus. As he had learned over the years, the Argonian focused that sharp clarity of mind and body inward like a spear, driving the Other back to the dark recesses from which he came. In the end, Viuven sealed the Other away easily. My guard was down again... I was not watching him or myself. I lost control. The Argonian frowned as he returned the ten steps to where Iris and Adeth and Paulus were.

"Apologize must..." Viuven said, his formerly calm voice still shaky and uncertain after the brief but intense mental battle. "The better of me Other had for momentary of minutes. Again happening will be not." Although Viuven knew that was a lie, he did not want to make it seem as if he were crazy. He knew that his battles with the Other were often frequent and mentally draining, in times of stress. But while his former unit had come to accept it and even help him with it, Viuven did not know how these people would take the knowledge that a sociopathic consciousness existed within him, held back only by the sharp edge of his will and focus, and even then just barely.



Veyar Nydelvu
Cloud Ruler Temple

Veyar watched as Karstine rambled and tripped over herself in a drunken stupor. He laughed and smiled, but inside he resisted the urge to take her by the arm and guide her to her room, then lock her in for the night. Out of habit and duty, Veyar was inclined to lock up a drunk until they were sober, and Karst was no exception. However, he gave in to the levity of the moment, despite her half-witted chide about his behavior as of recent.

"Seems to me," The Dunmer said, his ruby eyes glistening in the firelight, "Like you've had a bit much to drink." He laughed, reaching down to help her up yet again. And it seems to me as if you've needed it. Veyar thought. Aloud, he continued, "If you're going to be laying down so much, I would suggest you do it someplace more comfortable. I hardly think our new Emperor would enjoy stubbing his toe on a drunken Khajiit every time he crosses the room, no matter how cute and cuddly she is." Veyar finished off with a smirk, brushing a lock of hair over her ear gently.

"Now, you can chastise me all you want tomorrow when you've a clear head to discuss things. I'm sure there will be time before we move out on our next assignment. If you choose to stay, then you'll have to get to me first thing in the morning." A slight smirk again touched the edges of Veyar's lips, "If you can get up by then, that is." He chuckled, sitting down at the table as he looked around the empty hall momentarily.

Cloud Ruler had been quiet for the past few hours, ever since a small group had left on some kind of assignment. When he saw Viuven and Iris and Adeth and Paulus and some Khajiit preparing to leave, Veyar had considered asking to lend his blade to their quest and join with them. The way Iris seemed to avoid his gaze and that she was apparently leading the mission, however, was enough to dissuade him. Veyar had already crossed mental blades with Iris a few times before, and he figured his presence now would only serve to continue to escalate that tension. The last thing he wanted to do was to cross real blades with a woman who was supposed to be an ally.

(Sorry about the hold up from my part. Been off balance and stressed.)

Adeth nodded to iris as she requested him to take care of the other spy. He walked to the spy but once he sensed the heat, smelled burning flesh and looked back to see that burning corpse. He actually froze in place, quite like what he might do in a gate. The burning corpes on stakes and hanging from a wall. It all came back to him.

When Iris reminded Adeth for the second time though, he quit being spaced out and took a better hold of the mythic dawn agent as viuven took ?something from the man and crushed it in two. He tied the man better than the other and finally hit the man hard in the head so that he might not wake up any moment.

Adeth had missed what Viuven had said but he looked at Iris as if he had failed to do what he did. 'I...Im sorry for spacing out like that. Something just uh.... came up.' He explained.

Paulus and the mythic dawn agent where in a violent fight, both using their sheilds and swords equally. The two competitors where evenly matched, with the mythic dawn agent in his powerful enchanted armour and Paulus's long years of combat training. unless someone does somthing soon, this fight could last forever almost as if a blessing from the gods themselves, the agent fell into the snow, paralyzed by a spell cast by iris.

he sheathed his weapon, and slowly calmed himself, forcing his heart to return to its normal beat and trying to calm his rage. He drank deeply from a canteen and turned to make sure the spy was down, but Adeth had beat him to it. Instead, he approached the other spy, along with Iris and Viuven. Suddenly the spys body burst into flames, and their prisoner laughed as he burned.

"Holy.."

he said, amazed that a body could just spontaneasouly combust. Using his boot, he stamped out any of the remanining sparks. The live mythic dawn agent was tied up, and Viuven had removed something from the spy. Paulus approached and picked up the bound spy in a firemans lift, holding him over his shoulders by his legs and arms. Slowly, stagerring under the weight at first, he gained his balance and followed Iris, the spy uttering oaths and threats at him.

Mia played around with her food when Vivian said the last sentence, and she wondered what he was thinking about that subject. She stopped after a bit, and sighed. "Vivian.. really" She said simply, and looked back up at him. "For one moment, please think of me as the girl you met before the Cheydinhal gate.. and not the woman whose image you most likely have fresh in your mind when you are thinking about what could happen tonight.."

After a while of sitting there in silence, she felt something strange, as if she could sense something else nearby. A feeling that seemed familiar.. as if it was someone she knew. This caused her to look around, as if trying to find out where it was coming from. Even though she could not see this entity, she knew that whoever it was, was nearby. "Whatever happens tonight, happens.. it just depends on what occurs soon.." She said the last part quietly as if what she felt was indeed someone and as if that person was nearby.

Viuven arched a brow slightly as Adeth apologized for his 'spacing out'. Viuven had not noticed Adeth's distraction, but he would not make mention of it. The Argonian pulled the hood of his cloak up over his head, obscuring his face in shadows. "Of returning and thinking should we be. Bruma now spies locations we are sure of." Viuven turned, looking towards the icy silhouette of Bruma and the mountains beyond that housed Cloud Ruler Temple.

"Either of going back to Cloud Ruler, or to Bruma. Finding others should priorities lay with importance." The Argonian's crimson eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms. Viuven was sure that there were other spies in Bruma somewhere. These spies had to have had some kind of base of operations, and Bruma was the closest and most logical place for it to be. If they had to search the whole city, Viuven was determined to find them.

Karst was still on the table, one knee on the tabletop and one foot on the bench behind her, leaned over after kissing Veyar and promptly forgetting she had done so. "Seems to me," Veyar said, eyes glittering, "Like you've had a bit much to drink. If you're going to be laying down so much, I would suggest you do it someplace more comfortable. I hardly think our new Emperor would enjoy stubbing his toe on a drunken Khajiit every time he crosses the room, no matter how cute and cuddly she is."

Veyar smirked after this and reached a hand up to flick a stray lock of red hair over her white ear. Karst was only vaguely aware of this, though. "Now, you can chastise me all you want tomorrow when you've a clear head to discuss things. I'm sure there will be time before we move out on our next assignment. If you choose to stay, then you'll have to get to me first thing in the morning." He smirked at her again, "If you can get up by then, that is."

"Hey.. Hey." Karst poked him in roughly the center of his chest. "Firs' off, there ain't no such thing as t'much t'drink. There's what ya c'n handle, and what.." She hiccuped, then blinked. "An' what ya can't. An' I'm not layin' down jus' yet. Ain't tired in th' least bit. Second.." She poked him more in the briast area this time, "Well, for one, damn straight I'm cute 'n cuddly. The hell else you think I'd be? But.. what was I sayin'.. Oh! Righ'.." She poked him yet again, "Second, ah can get up wh'never ah want to. And I'll chastate you or.. whatever.. whenever I feel like damn well doin' it! Way I see it, I c'n talk, and that means I still ain't drunk e'nuff yet."

Leaning her forehead against his, she looked into his eyes and grinned crazily, the furry tip of her nose touching the ashen-blue of his. "In fact, methinks you should join me in bein' drunk. Sure beats not bein' drunk, eh? C'mon, y'know y'want to."
_______
Melanarde sat on the bed in the room now, a fusion of puzzlement and boredom evident in her face. She rested her chin in her hand and sighed.

"I couldn't even begin to guess at the intentions or motives of a Daedric Prince. Frankly, I don't like the things in any way, shape or form except for the fact that they make good weapons." Mel admitted, staring at the ashes across the room. She looked back at Teegus, then to Gregory. It was about then that she remembered Tim once more. She'd been absorbed in puzzling over the Imperial and trying to interrogate him, but then he burst into flame and ruined that. Finally, she stood up and stretched a little.

"Well, I think you can handle the prisoner. " She smiled a little even though she knew the joke was a bit on the sick side, "I've got someone else I need to check on anyway. I'll be back later, maybe."

Striding across the room, she slipped out the door and went downstairs to the bar. She saw Tim was absent and approached Olav. "Excuse me.." The Nord looked up at her and raised his eyebrows. "I was looking for a young human, about ye high-" Mel held her hand off the ground at about where Tim's head came up to, "A bit scruffy looking. Name's Tim, if it matters."

Olav had been gazing at Melanarde with a sort of confused interest until she mentioned the young man's name. He burst out laughing, causing Mel to narrow her eyes and cross her arms over her chest. After a moment, she cleared her throat loudly. Olav looked up and caught her glare, then smiled. "Sorry.. Tim.. I've known him for a while, kid never has much money to spend. Came down here and asked for a pint, just about made me fall over laughing until I saw he actually had the gold for it, and then some. Told him he'd better not've killed anyone for that money and gave 'im 'is drink. I'm going to go out on a limb and guess you gave him the gold for it?"

Mel nodded. "Yes, I did. Do you know where he is now?" She replied and asked curtly. Olav grunted at her.

"You don't gotta be like that about it. Yeah, I've seen 'im. Went up to his room, piss drunk as could be." The Nord grinned at this, "Kid's probably never had a drop of the stuff in him before, didn't know what to do with 'imself."

"Thanks." The Altmer turned in a swish of skirt and walked off, her boots thunking on the wood as she ascended the stairs once again and went into her and Tim's room. Sure enough, there he was, sound asleep with a few bumps and bruises, undoubtedly from stumbling up the stairs. The noblewoman didn't quite understand what it was about Tim that evoked a sort of motherly caring from her, but she couldn't bring herself to just up and leave him be for the night. She sat on the bed and then, touching each of his bruises gently, she channeled magicka into them, ceasing the swelling and healing the broken capillaries. When the healing was done, she just sat there on the edge, running one finger gently through his now clean brown hair and smiling softly.

"Sleep tight, kiddo." She whispered, then chuckled, "Hope you enjoy your first hangover tomorrow."

Veyar Nydelvu
Cloud Ruler Temple main hall

Veyar blanched, "Me, get drunk?" The Dunmer asked in surprise. It was a rare occasion when Veyar Nydelvu found himself drinking the binge. "I don't think so. Not after all that's happened this evening and what will probably come on the morrow." Veyar had thought he had heard people talking about departing the next morning on some kind of assignment. He planned to accompany them, but going into a potentially hazardous situation with a hangover was not on Veyar's 'To Do' list.

Vivian visibly cringed as she spoke, his mental cringe too powerful and slipping onto his face immediately. He shut his eyes, looking down at this plate and sighing into the oncoming silence. Her image was indeed fresh in his mind, but Vivian bit his lip and fought it away, replacing it with her image now. But that image was fading in and out with the image she had eluded to. Vivian stabbed the meat on his plate and refused to raise his head to look her in the eye as he brought it to his lips and chewed.

"Whatever happens tonight, happens... it just depends on what occurs soon..." Mia nearly whispered, and this made Vivian finally raise his face to look at her, perplexed. Just what did she mean by that? Such a cryptic wording...

"Um... elaborate?" Vivian begged, unsure just what to make of what she had said.


Iris stood on the road looking out over to Bruma, her back to the smoldering corpse of the ex-spy, the snow melted around him. She watched the lights of the city flicker, one hand on her chin as she thought. And worked hard not to think of the man's suicide.

"Yes, they are definitely in Bruma. Would make sense, as it is the city closest to Cloud Ruler, and we are currently sitting between Bruma and the Temple. The question is where... and how we find it." Iris replied to Viuven's remark, before turning to see Paulus with the spy.

"But first, we need to get this one into containment at Cloud Ruler Temple. Viuven, if you can help Paulus at all, please do. Adeth, collect whatever rope we have left, and when we get to Cloud Ruler prepare yourself for a bit of thieving. Paulus, take him to the entrance hall and hold him there. We need to discuss this with Martin and Jauffre." Iris told them, turning away from Bruma and beginning the walk back up to Cloud Ruler, her mind on the possibilities of the spies locales.

Francois Dilborn
Near the Runestone

In the distance, Francois saw what he perceived to be some sort of combat, or at least what appeared to be a sudden flash of light that his long training as a Battlemage had taught him to be a sure fire sign of a spell of some sort. He silently dismounted his Donkey and approached with as much stealth as he was able, casting a low level Chameleon spell on himself (though Illusion was hardly his forte').

He approached silently for some time, getting closer and closer. He thought he heard voices. One of them might have been an Argonian or perhaps a Khajiit. He wasn't sure. He'd spent lots of time in the Legions around beastfolk but could not perfectly distinguish their accents. He saw the charred remains of what appeared to be a man on the ground. He broke his concentration momentarily at this and accidentally stepped on a twig, causing it to break loudly. The Chameleon spell also wore out, his concentration on the sound instead of maintaining the magicka flow. He stood exposed on the outer rim of the stone circle. He cleared his throat and assumed what he hoped was a neutral stance, ready to fight if need be but more than willing to introduce himself more cordially. "Oh dear. I apologize. I do seem to have interrupted something. I was told to report to Cloud Ruler Temple . . . I hope I'm headed in the right direction?"

He shifted his eyes to the charred remains of the spy on the ground, smelling of burnt flesh, and felt a bit sick.

Mia turned her head on her side as she head Vivian say those next words. "Well.. whatever you decide to do will decide what will happen Vivian. I'm not forcing your hand to go either way. But, we don't need to be back till morning, and whatever happens will happen." As she finished her meal, she rested her hand briefly on his. "This is your night to decide what will become of this" With that she removed her hand and, looked back out the window again, feeling the same presence she felt earlier. "But this also depends on what.. he.. wants"

--

The presence was indeed a he, as Lucifer gazed into the window at the woman he had changed due to a mission of intelligence. the Seducer was perplexed by how one of his own would be on a 'date' with a mortal man, when she could have easily bedded him a long time ago. The level of success was far greater than anticipated, even with the seal removed, the woman called by many as 'Mia' seemed to act more like an innocent girl instead of a seductress as Seducers were.

He had to meet her again, and to find a way to continue the mission. And so the Seducer continued to watch as the woman awaited the Dunmer's reply.

Gregory frowned at Teegus's response. He had been expecting some confession of some great action against the Daedra. After all, it takes a lot to earn their attention. Though then again, it could simply be Dagon trying to cause more chaos. He doesn't really need a greater reason than that. But still, to target an individual, and one who doesn't even know why he was attacked... There must be something important about this Argonian. Perhaps I should try looking into this. I know there are a few books on Daedra lying around the Mage's Guild. Probably nothing that would help, but still, it can't hurt to check.

He watched the Argonian grab the dead Mythic Dawn member's sword off of the top of the dresser and studied his reaction. Gregory couldn't imagine what it would be like to stare at a weapon that had just been used to stab you. Once Melanarde left the room, Gregory decided it was time to take his leave as well. "Well, I think I'll go as well. I paid for this room already, so feel free to stay the night here. I'm going to go do some research on this, maybe ask Volanaro and Selena a few things and see if they can tell me anything. I'll be back later. And don't you dare leave. I suspect they'll attack you again the first opportunity they get, but as long as you're in the city walls, I'm sure you'll be safe. Besides, Daedra worshippers are simply fascinating to listen to, and I would very much like another opportunity to study one."

He then left the room and went back down to the first floor. He gave a polite nod to Olav, then walked out of the building and into the street.

It was the noise at the rune stones that attracted Tsinga's attention. All day she had been travelling in her falcon form, her wings were achy and sore from how far she had flown. She gratefully landed in a nearby pine tree and ruffled her feathers. There was an angry murmur of voices, and someone burst into flames. Tsinga almost fell out of the tree, watching someone spontaneously combust was not something she saw regularly.
When the flames had died down, an old man walked to wards the group,

"Oh dear. I apologise. I do seem to have interrupted something. I was told to report to Cloud Ruler Temple . . . I hope I'm headed in the right direction?"

Tsinga tilted her head, her vision as a falcon was a lot better than her vision as an elf. The old man was heading for cloud ruler temple as well was he?
A soft growl below her told Tsinga that Rain was sitting at the bottom of the tree.
"We're close." Tsinga commented almost as though she was bored.
"There is strange activity all over these mountains, I have seen many men behaving in strange ways. As I was hunting another of those gates opened and wondrous creatures came out of it. Wondrous, but dangerous creatures. The earth burnt black around where the gate was."
Tsinga hooted angrily. The destruction of nature was something she took to heart every time it happened.
"The sooner we can put a stop to this the better. I'm not sure exactly what's going on but these people do. I shall make myself known to them soon."

Tsinga looked to the skies and fluttered to a tree that was nearer so she could get a better look at what was going on.

Adeth was midway of collecting the rest of the rope when a man appeared on a donkey. He gave the man a suspicious look and then fully turned. 'Who are you?' He asked the man demandingly. He stood up straight with the rope in his hands ready to be used again if need be. He trusted Iris could make out better if the man was a threat.

Awaiting for an answer Adeth looked around, hearing something nearby but couldn't make out what it was. He wasn't too far from Tsinga's position but still too far to distinguish the sounds. He turned to others with a questioning look and then back at the elderly man.

(svcky post... School is stressful)

Paulus had been close to striking their captive, his constant threats, insults and swearing had begun to do more than irritate him, and when the sound of a branch being stepped on occured, it gave him the perfect chance. He dropped their captive carelessly on the ground, and he yelped in pain. Paulus quickly turned back towards where the sond had occured, drawing his sword in one fluid motion, expecting another mythic dawn spy to leap out and lunge at him.

Instead it was a old man who looked like he was nearing the end of his life, give or take several years, who was unarmed and unarmoured. yet Paulus doubted that, he could easily summon armour just the way the two mythic Dawn agents had, and this man could easily be another one.

"Oh dear. I apologize. I do seem to have interrupted something. I was told to report to Cloud Ruler Temple . . . I hope I'm headed in the right direction?"

"Very well, who ordered you then?"

He responded back in the darkness, hearing the hoot of a nearby bird in the trees. Other than the one bird, the night was silent.

Francois showed both his empty hands, defensively.

"Whoa, sir. I apologize for interrupting. I'm Francois Dilborn. I was ordered to report to Cloud Ruler Temple. See? Here are my papers."

He reached into his brown robe, noticing Adeth's eyes following his hand carefully. All he produced was a simple scroll of paper with instructions and a map. "See? I was contacted by a Blade agent in Vvardendell and told to report here. I assume that's the Temple up the road there?"

Francois was looking at Adeth, but in the back of his mind he was aware of another male presence lurking nearby. The low level Detect Life spell he always devoted a fraction of his brainpower to maintaining was picking up a human-like presence. While his eyes and smile were focused on Adeth, he was trying to locate the source of the disturbance...



He turned to answer the previous question from Paulus. "I believe he was an Orc. A Nightblade or perhaps a skilled Acrobat. I didn't see his face, nor would he give me his name. He mentioned a man named Jauffre? Sounds like a Breton name, I suppose. He told me my skills were needed here. I'm a retired Battlemage. More of a craftsman nowadays though...specialize in Smithing."

OOC: I don't suppose the Orc guy is anyone important. He's not anyone's character or any person mentioned previously. Just one of Caius' men in Morrowind.

Viuven-Ru
Runestones near Bruma

Viuven nodded at Iris, although he thought that Adeth and Paulus could handle their captive without his help. Viuven doubted Iris knew his physical strength, and the other two men were by far more imposing than Viuven's own lean, twig-like figure implied. "If help needed then of giving freely will help be." Viuven replied.

The Argonian's nostrils flared as he picked up a scent on the wind. No... two scents. The first was obviously that of a donkey in the distance. Viuven couldn't hear it, but he could smell it. The second was much harder to pick out, but it was definitely that of a human softskin. Viuven shifted from sight as fast as he could blink, fading into the darkness of invisibility. Barefoot, he crept around the stones, following his nose.

Within a moment, however, Viuven spied the old man at the same time as Adeth and Paulus did. The softskin had a creased and lined face, and his stance and walk had the slightest touch of weariness to it, and lacked the youthful spring that Viuven had seen many other men possess. Yes, this man is older.
As Adeth and Paulus conversed with the man who introduced himself as Francois Dilborn -a plainly Breton name- Viuven crept around behind the man. A few yards behind him, Viuven released the cloak of invisibility that shrouded him and spoke at the same moment. "Of use why would to Cloud Ruler send from Morrowind a smith, from Blade Operative?" Viuven asked, "Have already Smithing man of skill." Although Viuven didn't doubt the elderly man's story, he thought it wasn't entirely coincidental that the old man had appeared right after the Mythic Dawn spies were subdued.

It never occurred to Viuven that the runestones they were gathered around were positioned practically at the side of the only road heading into Bruma.



OOC: Been a few days since I posted; I've been busy with work and all that

ooc: Will edit post and write in-character after work in the morning.

Francois turned his head slightly, nodding as a greeting. "Hi there. I thought I sensed another humanoid around here. Why would I be of use to Cloud Ruler? I hadn't intended to brag on myself, sir, but it just so happens that my many years of experience have gifted me with the opportunities to learn Smithing techniques unknown to the average person, or even most masters. There are secrets that were nearly lost with the Battlespire, you see, but a few men yet live who trained there. One of them stands before you. I was blessed, or lucky, to be absent from that place when Dagon seized it some years back. My weapons, armor and potions are of a potent quality, and I can enchant any weapons or armor you already have. And I do it for free, because it's my art and I love it. An old man needs a hobby, doesn't he? I suppose the Blades operative figured I had some special amount of skill that was needed here. Crusaders from Morrowind swear by my stuff. Even the Ordinators and Bouyant Armigers who helped the Nerevarine assault the Ash Citadels used some of my equipment. That, my friend, was my proudest moment. Now may I assume you gentlemen and lady are Blades?"

He sat wearily on a rock and crossed rested his elbows on his knees, feeling his age. He looked from each new young face to the other, trying to read something of their personalities. "Are these people the fabled Blades?" he thought to himself. "They seem so young, so inexperienced and arrogant." He glanced over at the charred remains of the Mythic Dawn operative and scowled. "I do hope you didn't do that to this young man. What a cruel way to die!"

Viuven-Ru
Runestones near Bruma

Viuven didn't understand half of what the old man said about Morrowind. Having never been to the province and only been in Cyrodiil a few years, Viuven did not know anything about the Ordinators or the Neraverine aside from passing rumours, and as for Battlespire... well, Viuven had never heard of such a place. The Argonian nodded and tried to look thoughtful as if he did know what Francois was meaning with his words.

"Then grateful assistance thanked." Viuven replied. He ignored the subject of the Mythic Dawn agent's suicide and motioned for Francois to stand. "Of Blades are. Leaving place of this in time through now, however. Cloud Ruler looking down on us from the tops of mountain yonder." Viuven's crimson finger pointed out the distant peak of the closest mountain beyond Bruma, where the small fortress of Cloud Ruler Temple lay.

Name: Timothy Delia
Gender: Male
Race: Imperial
Age: 17

Height: 5'10"
Eye Color: Blue
Hair Style: Black
Skin Color: Tanned, quite dirty.

Class: Street orphan (?)
Class Focus: Agility, stealth and cunning.

Major Skills: Athletics, Acrobatics, Hand-to-Hand and pickpocketing.

General Appearance: Lean and dirty, Timothy hasn't had a real meal ever, his hair is untidy but kept short, he's definitely unclean and walks with no real grace. His eyes often show fierce determination and a sort of cunning that can only be taught on the streets of a harsh neighbourhood. He has no real muscle tone.
Tattoos/Scars: A fair number of scars dot his body from knife wounds or from other fights.
Apparel Worn Most Often: A tattered and ripped shirt which is very dirty aswell as a pair of black cloth trousers in a similar condition.
Apparel worn least often: n/a
Weapons: A rusty butter knife which he sharpened to have an edge, it's still too blunt to pose any threat.

Spells:n/a

Mental Description: As a street orphan he grew up knowing how to survive in the harshest environments, he has a a huge amount of determination which keeps him going onto another day, Timothy isn't very bright, he's never read a book and has only seen a classroom in his dreams. Although he appears arrogant and confident, he is actually quite desperate for a better life, he fears his current one as he is threatened by death daily whether from another gang or from hunger. A violent boy, he takes to insults and threats to solve an issue often resulting in bigger problems.


ooc: Umm chakaka!

ic:

Tim had a mixture of dreams that night. But there was one, in particular; which will stay in his dreams for quite some time:

His feet touched the cobbled road, it's touch was warm and jagged. His eyes tried to adjust to the light, and it took what seemed like an hour to finally begin to feel something other then a burning sensation in his arm. He reached out and began to see images, swirling shadow's danced against the floor. Tim finally saw where he was, it was a fairly largish room, it resembled a cellar and everywhere he looked flames engulfed the scene. His breathing began to increase and he looked to the floor. He noticed he was wearing new clothes, but they were tattered and torn, broken in several places and dirty with ash.

He felt the grip of fear tighten around him when he saw them, people, dead, lying on the floor in a pile. Amongst them was the body of Meline. Her face was still and pale. He ran towards her and went to pull her out when he noticed his left hand was missing. He slipped and fell to the floor, his screams of pain was only muffled by a strange; twisted laughter that came behind him.

He stood up and turned around and saw nothing but shadow, the world around him had been changed to one of darkness, a dim red glow showed signs of an archaic building, but Tim knew not what it was. The laughing continued, it surrounded him now, engulfing the boy in a world of suffering as he began to see images of torture and desire. Suddenly, the shadow took form, the red glow became horrid armour and the black became charred and broken skin. The monster in front of him stood tall and proud, the armour glistened with blood and the great weapon in it's claw was heavy with bits of flesh. By now, Tim had been immobilized by fear, he no longer had the urge to move or the urge to fight, his whole mind had stopped thinking, it sounded almost peaceful, had it not been for the circumstance.

The began to move, it's eyes began to erupt in flames and the sword started to raise. The great weapon continued to head up but the face began to fall away, flowing hair now stood where the twisted skin once lay and quickly the face became that of Meline's, her mouth was warped in anger and hate as she began to heave the sword back down..

It was here, in the final moment of what seemed an endless dream that Tim woke up. His head shot forward and his body tensed in the sudden movement, he felt for his hand, then his chest where he noticed he was breathing heavily. He gulped and felt a sharp pain as he realised his throat was parched. He looked around him now, only noticing a few things, the wall, the door and the bathroom, he looked back down into his lap and tried to control his breathing, it was then; that he noticed Meline sitting by him, his entire body moved to face her, his face a mixture of fear and concern.

He looked up at her, noticing her features, the strange elvish skin, the clean hair and the pretty face, time seemed to stop in Tim's mind as he stared at her, his eyes betraying him as they were filled with a sense of relief...

Only a dream..

OOC: Old char is old.

Full name: William Stone
Name for other RPers to call your character: Bill, Will, whatevah.
Race: Breton
Gender: Male
Age: 25
Focus: Stealth
Skills: Marksman, Blade, Wilderness survival.

General appearance: Dark, half long hair is just barely reaching in front of William's eyes, not hindering his sight. He has a body unlike most bretons, as he is rather fit, but no really strong man.
His line of work demands a bit of strength and agility. He wears his leather armour as if he never done otherwise and has quick eyes, often scanning the terrain and people around him. His longsword looks as thought it is meant to be by his side, and his bow shows the time and energy this man has spent making it. He is truly bound to his weapons, and they have never failed him when he needed them. Over his leather armour, William wears straps of leather, to easily mount certain tools and other equipment there for easy access. He wears one of his daggers there, and his other one on his right waist.
Hair: Dark. Almost black.
Eye colour: Grey.
Height: 6ft
Mental description: Usually normal, but tend to be annoyed over some rather trivial matters, like the stupidity of other people. Modest, and has the mindset of an intelligent man. Likes to keep his thoughts and motives for himself. Also tends to get worked up over stuff, mostly stuff Adeth does.

http://fc08.deviantart.com/fs22/f/2007/316/3/d/Ranger_by_E_l_g_e_n.jpg

:nod:

Weapon: Steel longsword and wooden bow. Also carries a few daggers.

Clothing/armour worn most often: Leather armour, green cloak, leather boots and otherwise black clothes.

Clothing/armour worn less often: His spare brown set of clothes.

Inventory: Quiver with 20 arrows, dagger, waterskin, some septims, meat. All of this placed neatly in a backpack.

Quick Bio: William grew up in the western borders of Cyrodiil, and has never seen the home country of his parents. He grew up in the woods, and was always preparing to join the imperial rangers. He did this after getting 21 years old and has now served there for four years. He is not very successful, and the most serious crime he's ever stopped was when someone was stealing sheep from a farmer. Is a bit bitter due to this. William had been hunting 'round Kvatch (how convenient...) when a burning gate opened and he watched with awe from the distance as the city fell. William was with the group for quite some time, guiding them towards their goals, whatever they were at the time. He'd also got into a relationship with Selene, a dark elf and the group's leader. When his brother Richard came around, requesting his help, William had to go, but promised to return as soon as he could. William did so, but found the group quite changed. Selene had been married away with some random noble, before dying. When William returned to this, he was devastated, and before long drifted away from the group. He spent some time hunting down his brother, wanting to blame him for it all.

William trailed on through the woods, to what might seem as nothing more than random steps. Maybe even as if he was drunk, and had a hard time placing his feet. But being drunk would achieve exactly the opposite of what he was doing right now. As current matters were, you would need a very skilled tracker to see his tracks, and they wouldn't have been able to read much out of them. It had been hard when he was young, but now it came quite natural.

As he walked, his eyes scanned the ground for tracks of other beings, animal or man. He found few, but here and there were tracks. Mostly deer walking from place to place, eating. Nothing of interest, in other words. He scratched his week old beard, wondering if he was completely off track, which would be quite strange; William had been at this place many a times before. He cleared yet another few paces, before finding the old path he'd used before. The woodsman path to Bruma, the Nord capital of Cyrodiil. If something like that existed.

He entered through the main gates, nodding politely to the guards, as if he was just a hunter returning from the woods. As if he was now going back to his lovely wife. Which was somehow related. In the way genocide has something to do with dying. He was going to get [censored] drunk due to the late Selene.