OOC: Yeah, I know the feeling IB. I hate it when that happens. Also guys, I'll make a Swims post soon.

Stanet Terentius, Rihad

Stanet surveyed the room as the negotiation began, looking for signs that Sentinel's delegation was rising to his bait. While their king seemed to remain calm and cool, one of the other Redguards in the room, who looked like some sort of nomad leader, kept his mask on as his hand gravitated towards his falcata. Good. I'm getting to them, thought Stanet as he grinned. Unfortunately, the Elden Yokeda Haroun had removed his mask, depriving Stanet of the opportunity to ask him to remove it. Damn. That was a good chance for abrasion that just went to waste. Soon, Rihad's diplomat, Nasser of the Falls, an unkempt and scraggly man in a simple brown robe, entered the room and addressed Haroun.

"So, I suppose I'm here to talk with you trying to solve this mess. What is it that I can do for you, Lord of the Western lands?" said the odd old man with a grin. Stanet felt a mix of chagrin and hope as Haroun delivered a long reply in Yoku as he stood; on one hand, Stanet was annoyed that he couldn't understand anything the Elden Yokeda had just said, but on the other, he realized that he had annoyed the Redguard king enough for him to speak in a language Stanet wouldn't understand.

Suddenly, Stanet could hear the door creak open slowly and quietly as Lysandra slipped into the room and bowed to the members of the meeting. "I apologize for being late on such an important occasion. High King; King; Knight Commander." she said a little softly. Stanet flashed a smile at the battlemage; she had given him an excuse to say something.

"Don't worry about it." said Stanet. "You really haven't missed much. We just started, and in any case, the only thing His Majesty" he continued, gesturing towards Haroun and deliberately using the wrong title "has said so far was in Yoku." Sir Terentius paused for a moment before adding onto his statement as he turned away from Lysandra and towards the rest of the room.

"Speaking of which, would you kind fellows mind speaking in a language we all understand? While your language does indeed sound quite pretty, I think we would be able to conduct this meeting much more efficiently if we didn't have to rely on a translator."

Amaru, Rihad

"You come to our land, Hammerfell, yet you do not take the mere time in preparation to learn the language of our people."

Amaru took a few more steps toward where the group was sitting, now removing his mask to face tNasser. He began to speak in Cyrodillic, actually knowing both the languages himself.

"And that is injustice, Nasser, for you to be ruled by a foreign dog who has not the slightest respect for your people to even learn their own dialect? It should not be tolerated, seeing if these foreigners cared for your well being they would take the time to imprint your tongue on their memories. They seek nothing but greed and power; nothing but to take the power that is yours."

Amaru gave a glare over to the knight, his eyes boiling with an intense fire. Perhaps he could beat this knight at his own game.


Ruhk Ahkbar, Sentinel

Ruhk smiled as he embraced the Empresses' hug. Similarly to the way he looked at Haroun as an older brother, Roxanna had always been a sister to him. She appeared to be doing quite well, minus the one moment her delightful smile had left her face. It was no secret to Ruhk that his cousin's wife missed the open wilderness as a nomad. Though as much as she missed it, the young Redguard knew too well that she also enjoyed her new life within the High King's royal palace. He gave the lady a sign of reverence as he took her hand and kissed it. Though Roxanna was like his family member, he took a lot into giving respect to his superiors.

"I have been well, Roxanna. It is good to see you. My eyes have not been laid upon this wonderful place in ages. The sea is peaceful upon this day. The spirit of the great Thassad himself guides our paths."

Ruhk's face began to move away from its joyous mood and into a more serious setting as he took the Empresses' hand and began to talk on a less audible note, whispering into her ear.

"I've some important matters to discuss concerning the Altmer and the Sword of Prince A'tor. Sister, it would be best to take the conversation to a private place. Perhaps anyone else of importance that has arrived here could hear of the Altmer. Anything said about the sword should be kept between us."

Rihad Delegation, the Meeting Room

Cixus had remained silent through most of the trip, he often found it pointless and tiring to waste his breath on trivial matters of small talk and in many cases the political bickering that native Ra'Gada loved to fill their idle talk with. It was always the same arguments, Crown versus Forebearer, Totumba versus Ra'gada, a simple matter of class warfare really that had seen so many good men and women, both warrior and civilian sent to an early grave. In the Empire, debates were far more varied and opinions could be solved with angry words more often that the edge of the sword, but then again Imperial politics were rather boring in that aspect. He often found himself wondering what it would have been like had the Elder Council or Emperors in their day had jumped from their seats in the great chamber to skew their opponent, putting an end to their opposition both in body and mind. Once they had arrived at the Rihad Keep and settled into the meeting room the negotiations began with a hostile undertone thrown in the delegations face, by none other than a very familiar name to Crixus, Knight Commander Stanet Terentius.

The arogant prodding of Ra'gada pride by Terentius finally drew fruit when the Ansei Amaru finally broke his silence, discarding his mask and speaking to the representative. "You come to our land, Hammerfell, yet you do not take the mere time in preparation to learn the language of our people." his words stung the ear's as they sprung from his lips, the hatred and frustration surely felt by everyone carried in his words.

"And that is injustice, Nasser, for you to be ruled by a foreign dog who has not the slightest respect for your people to even learn their own dialect? It should not be tolerated, seeing if these foreigners cared for your well being they would take the time to imprint your tongue on their memories. They seek nothing but greed and power; nothing but to take the power that is yours."

"Gentelman, there's no need for such hostilities here, I'm certain we can work things out in a civil matter." Crixus finally spoke, raising from his chair. Sixty years of life in this world had taken it's toll, most notably in his slow sage like movements and his short, well kept but snow white beard that illuminated his darkened and wrinkled face. He spoke slowly and in a mellow tone, but more likely peculiar to the knights, in perfect Cyrodillic in the Nibyian dielectric.

Crixus eye's fell on the two knights who now stood at the head of the room, both of which he had known about, he had after all lived through the rebirth of the order and was tasked to keep tabs on their growing power in the Empire, that was, before it collapsed. The Knights of the Nine were now little more than marauding bandits with a blessing from an old hack in Anvil, abet, skilled and well armed bandits.

"Sir Terentius? of Bravil?, I believe I knew your father." Crixus began. "Not personally, but in passing, I had met the man a few times, even wrote an article about him and your family. A shame truly about your family; to loose such honor and prestige to be eclipsed by other minor noble families of the city must have what pushed him over the edge, I don't blame you for joining the knights and coming to Rihad. A fresh start to wash away the sin's and stain of dishonor of the fathers, aye?"

A wide smirk came across his face, scrunching his darkened age lines around his face. "International diplomacy would dictate the most prestigious nation the honor of spoken language, and since you are in Rihad, on Hammerfellian soil, and the Empire is no longer of consequence, I believe Yoku would be the appropriate language. Less you wish to speak to a more neutral tongue, the Altmer perhaps?" both suggestions were meant to put the knight in his proper place, to suggest that the Raga and even the Altmer were above them would surely ruffle his high feathered head.

Somewhere between Skaven and Taneth

"Cowards!" Hasturbal growled, of course, they wouldn't be able to understand him, their ears knew not his language nor would they likely care to learn it. It wouldn't matter before too long, he would see them all put to the sword or in the chains of slavery before the coming war was over, then the only word they would need know was master. All around him the tide had turned against them, there was little to do now but pull back, trend their wound's, and complete their mission. Slowly he drew back, calling out for a general retreat as his men made the move to disengage, several coming directly to Hasturbal to protect their wounded leader. There was little left to do but run, and allow these knights to return to Taneth with word of the locals treachery against their sovereignty.

Xerxes, Sentinel

As he stepped out of the bath Xerxes felt more refreshed and relaxed then he had in a long time. He had just returned the evening before from a two and a half week long expedition to put down a group of bandits and cutt throats that had been preying on the merchants plying their trade between Sentinel and Hegathe and he was still pretty tired. Still, a good nights sleep and a warm bath had done wonders. Among the men of the Barca it was somewhat common for men to go well over a month without a good wash, and Xerxes knew that some of them found their young prince's empishis on his personnal hygenie rather amusing.

"Still, better to be considered slightly vain then to good around smelling like a guar nesting in its own crap."

The words echoed throughout the entire bath chamber, reflecting off of the walls and dissapearing into the steamy mist that was already dissapating now that the machine under the Palace of Skatal (a twin of the one under the Imperial Palace) had been turned off. Xerxes jumped slightly, startled by the sound of his own voice; he had not ment to speak aloud. He laughed at his own bemusemant, relieved that no one else was around. I guess thats just gow it goes after spending nearly the last three weeks on alert Xerxes thought wryly, well aware he was trying to justify himself to well, himself.

The thought caused him to chuckle to himself as he walked to his apartments on the other side of the Palace of Skatal. The palace was vast indeed and it was an almost eight minute walk to get to his qurters, dodging cooks, orderlys, guards, and once a handsome serving girl who he caught staring at him as he passed by wearing nothing but a towl around his waist. "Like what you see, m'dear?" he asked with a half a smirk. The girl laughed said she did, very much so in fact.

Xerxes laughed at the reply and told her to get about her duties with a wink as he entered into his old (and admittedly quite spacious) apartments. They were massive, roughly the size of four or even five whole houses of one of the city's poorer families. When Xerxes was growing up all seven rooms that composed this suite had been filled with clutter he had picked up as a spoiled lad whose father was to busy to do much but buy him whatever his heart desired.

Bomilkar had changed all of that, ordering anything not of need to be burned in front of Xerxes at the start of his Echani training. Thus the first four rooms were devoid of anything save the woodcuts in the wall, all scenes from (Forebearer) Ra Gada history. Two of the other rooms held Xerxes private library; he was very well read, having had little else to do during his confidment during the seige. The final room held some odds and ends he had picked up in the last year, as well as the bulk of his wardrobe. Normally he walked about the city in the dress of a commoner, if a well off one. Today he intended to vist the place though, and the clothes of a worksman simply would not do.

Humming a bady tune to himself he sorted though the fifty or so odd outfits until he found http://www.mistythicket.com/ebay/renaissance_merchant_doublet_07.jpg, which he swiftly donned, foregoing the foppish hat. After he was done he looked himself over in the mirror. "You know," he said to nobody, "I used to really enjoy keeping up with the latest fashions. I was such an idiot."

With those words he walked out of the room and ordered the first servent he saw to head to the stables and saddle a horse, and could he please inform Khalid (Xeres chief lieutenient in the Barca) that the Khanzadeh (Son of the Khan) was going to be at the Imperial Palace all afternoon so he was to be in charge until Xerxes return. The servent bowed in the reply and sped off to do his tasks. Xerxes took a more circular route to the stables, stopping by the kithchen to grab a few pastries and then by the armory to fetch his blade. He didn't anticipate trouble and if something attacked the palace then his blade probably wouldn't make alll that much differance.

It was a plain steel shortsword and as he drew it from its leather sheath he was glad to see that one of the armorer's assistants had cleaned the bloodstains off the sheath. The sheath was much more elaborate then the plain blade it held, covered in a design of Skatal consuming itself, which Xerxes had taken as his own symbol since the death of his Carlo. His blade recovered Xerxes proceded through to the stables, saddled up one of the more docile mares and rode out into the city, eschewing any escort. Arriving at the palace without incident he orderd a guardsmen to run ahead and inform Roxanne of his arrival.

After this he saw to that his horse was taken care of and set of into the palace to find his aunt (whom he really saw as more of an older sister.)

Roxanna and Rhuk

Roxanna gave him a sheepish look as they left the embrace and he kissed her hand. "Always one for business rather than pleasant conversation." she grinned, taking his arm and pulling him close to her side as they began to climb the massive set of stairs that led up to the massive Palace's hulking gates. "You shame me, you did not even inquire about my daughters health or well being, or even how your dear cousin was, shame on you Ruhk Ahkbar, you'd dishonor us all for your High Elves and swords." her tone was light and jokingly, of course, she made sure no offense was to be taken by her husbands cousin and quickly returned back to the topic at hand before he found her teasing annoying.

"What of the sword, and your Altmer brother?" she asked, stopping about half way up the stair before she broke arms with Ruhk and turned to face him.

"Do you know where the sword is?" her interest was peaked. The Sword of Prince A'tor was legendary, even amongst the tribal aspect of Hammerfell. Legend had it that the very soul of the great Prince inhabited the weapon, and it's power was great, though what power it had remained a mystery, it disappeared along with it's wielder long before her time. None the less, just talk about it was enough to lend her dear brother just a few moments of her oh so precious time wandering the endless halls of her Palace homestead.

Almost forgetting about Ruhk's other question she was interrupted by a young guardsman, who graciously apologized. "My apologies m'lady, Prince Xerxes sent me ahead to announce his arrival."

No sooner than the man appeared and delivered the messeage her young nephew appeared at the bottom of the grand stairs, bringing another smile to her face as she proceeded back down to Ruhk, taking his arm again and leading him towards Xerxes. "Nephew! how unexpected! I thought you were still in Old Helgathe! What a splendorous day this is for me, come! good Ruhk and I were discussing some rather exciting things!"

Her and Ruhk were now at the bottom of the steps face to face with Xerxes. "We speak of Altmer and the Sword of Prince Ato'r, my nephew is quite the warrior now Ruhk, perhapse he can help us with whatever plot you have boiling in your devious little mind."

Streets of Rihad

The twins walked side-by-side through the crowded streets of Rihad, only several minutes behind the Sentinel King but far back to not seem threatening. They were somewhat armed after all, and though they had left their hot armor with Nedhelas and Kerrich in the hills with the horses, they still wore fine weapons on their belts. Their their three companions walked behind them, Praxedes and Dalvus beside each other with Vhosek at the back due to the tight nature of the streets. All carried weapons and all three tried to remain friendly looking to the citizens.

"Prax reminded me that you were right by the way brother." muttered Belisarius, pushing past a few men who wore only dirty rags across their privates. A quick stare at them let them know that picking their pockets for the small amount of gold he had was not a good idea. This was emphasized with his hand resting on the pommel of his blade and the poor men backed away, babbling in their foreign language.

"You catch that Vhosek?" asked Justin as the group continued on, looking back at his friend.

"It was nothing." came the response. "Perhaps you should learnt the basic language!" he shouted above the noise of the excited crowd.

The twins didn't respond but they felt if they were going to be in Hammerfell, they should at least learn basic words. Vhosek knew the language decently enough but he wouldn't always be there to translate.

The streets slowly died down in excitement as they finally found themselves outside of a rich looking home that the group assumed the King had stopped at. They stayed back down the block and moved out of the street where people were turning back, talking in excited voices but looking downtrodden that the King had exited the public eye.

"Alright then," started Justin as the others huddled around him, "shall we get going then?"

They waited for a while outside of the manor house, chatting idly to remain inconspicuous but when the King re-emerged, they stood quickly.

"See you guys in a bit." said Justin with a nod, as Belisarius, Vhosek and Dalvus marched off behind the King. Justin and Praxedes remained behind but walked closer to the manor house.

"How do you look like a mercenary?" asked Praxedes with a confused look as she eyed a few guards outside of the manor.

"I don't know to be honest. Just act casual. I don't expect anything to happen until the King comes back anyways, but... I don't know, look tough." he explained, as they stopped a respectable distance from the gates. "But not too tough." he laughed, as Prax put on a scowl to the men in the manor. "Lets not have any royal guard coming after us ok?"

--------

The palace of Rihad was impressive but the three mercenaries kept focused as they waited outside the gates the King had entered. They kept to the shade as they waited.

"Wish we could go in their. How are we to get hired by this city if they don't even know we are here?" asked Dalvus.

"Oh shut up and sit down." ordered Belisarius, giving his friend a forceful push downwards. "Hopefully we look enough like mercenaries that when those Knights come out in a fury because that stubborn Redguard ass--no offense," he said with a glance to Vhosek, "--and this city don't come to terms, then they'll be throwing money at mercenaries to get this war started.

"Why exactly do we want to fight each other anyways? Because that's whats going to happen if your brother gets hired you know." said Dalvus, who had not been fully briefed on the long term plan.

"Just don't you worry. If it makes you feel any better, only Prax knows what me and my brother have figured out so don't feel too left out." replied Belisarius absently as he watched the keep doors. The three men sat outside, waiting for whenever the talks ended, which he hoped would be soon. They had gold for an inn, but Justin had been sure these talks would be done within the day and the outcome was predictable. War would be declared before the five mercenaries went to bed.

Ruhk Ahkbar; Royal Palace, Sentinel

Ruhk nodded to his Empress, turning to her nephew. He had heard a lot about Xerxes, though he was one of the few he had never met in person. A mix of things overshadowed the man's reputation. He had heard he was the wealthiest man in the Empire besides the High King himself. While that may have certainly been stretched, he was no doubt one of the most wealthy. Xerxes had also tried to betray Haroun several years ago, due to the fact he believed his father's death to be the crown's responsibility.

"Pleasure to meet you, Xerxes."

Ruhk gave his fellow Redguard an investigative glare, studying the man's well-being. He reached out and shook Xerxes' hand.

"I am Ruhk Ahkbar. First cousin to the High King and governor of Stros M'kai."

Ruhk looked back to the Empress, who was still holding his arm. He turned his head back to Xerxes, giving him a nod, and then back again to face his cousin's bride.

"I'd prefer the three of us to speak in private, Roxanna. If you could, lead on."

----------------------------



Kurush, North of Taneth

"Father!"

The lone voice of a Yoku native tongue rang through the night in a language unrecognizable to the foreigners. The trample of 80 hooves clattered upon the dirt beneath them. A large horn sounded, as twenty mounted men emerged from the shadows. Most of them held slings, minus the young one who rode in front, gripping his bow. Still a distance away, a volley of stones was thrown straight toward the knight's backs. While it wouldn't kill most of them, it would certainly bash in their armor, causing pain and infliction.

The warriors continued to ride towards the knight's lines, as now they were close enough to be seen in the dense night. The knights would not know how many mounted warriors came. Some could have the impression of over fifty mounted warriors, as five more horns sounded off. Kurush hoped the knights would turn to face him as his own look of mere fierceness and blood made its way through the night.

"Run father! Run!"

The nomad gripped his spear as the warriors rode by the knight's left flank, which would have been the nomad's right. He watched as many of the knights turned at him hearing the close, deadly sound of hooves. He raised his spear, thrusting into a knight's face as he passed by. The force of the blow had dislodged the head from the neck Each warrior followed behind Kurush, attempting to take the same stabs at the knights beneath them. As he passed around the flank, his spear was put back over his back. He drew his bow, beginning to fire arrows into the mass of enemies before him. While it would be impossible for their archers to hit a lone moving horse on a black night, it would not be one in the same to hit a cluster of heavy, slow moving targets.

"Father! Live!""

Xerxes, Imperial Palace, Sentinel

Xerxes laughed as he bowed deeply to his aunt, then kissed her on the cheek. "I was 'till late last evening. But you do me to much honor m'lday, m'lord Bomilkar excedes me in every way when it comes to the martial arts and I think I know a certain Empress who could give me a run for my money!"

After addressing Roxanne the prince turned to Ruhk. He didn't know alot about Hauron's cousin and had never met him before, although Bomilkar had pointed him out a couple of times before at official functions. Apparently he was quite the loyal Crown, something which already took him down a couple of mark's in Xerxes books, not that Ruhk would be able to know that.

With a pleasent smile Xerxes accepted Ruhk's extended hand. "The pleasure is mine sir, good to meet finally meet you. Quite an interesting subjects you choose to discuss, though I agree that it may be better to continue talk of such matters elsewhere."

Road north of Taneth

The foe shouted at Tarsius, but withdrew. I'm glad they're retreating, but I fear they'll continue this so long as they live.

Just then, he noticed the sound of horses growing steadily louder. That doesn't sound good. As a knight helped him to his feet, he beheld several more raiders, this time on horseback, attacking the left flank. Strange, I don't recall that many troops in our left flank. The knights had little time to react, and weren't properly equipped to take on mounted foes. There weren't enough to turn the tide, but they were able to create an opening for the nomads to escape.

The mounted nomads fired arrows into the knights' ranks. Again the armor of the knights protected most of them, but no armor was completely effective.

"Watch out troops, they've brought cavalry!"

---

Kalasan saw something coming, something too far from the lights to see. Then he saw it; nomad cavalry, charging into the left flank without warning, before firing arrows at the knights What is going on, where did they come from? And what are they doing? He then noticed the enemy began to break.

Are they covering the nomads' retreat? At this point, I hope that's the case.

Name: Ulric Callenburg
Age: 32
Height: 5'10
Weight: 182
Race: Breton
Eye color: Bright Blue
Hair Style: Cropped/shaved
Hair Color: Light Brown
Facial Hair: Days growth with a neat, trimmed goatee.
Physical Build: Has a well toned body, easily definable as being athletic. It is more a body of somebody used to the tensions of acrobatics then brute force on the battlefield.

Weapons: Silver Bow, Silver Dagger, Lockpicks, wine, substantial amounts of coin, Silver Arrows, small reserve of minor potions (Minor representing there strength and to the fact that they are small and easily concealable).

Clothes/Armor: A deep purple coat with gold trim along matching boots and leggings. Alternative is the addition of a brown trench coat and a purple mask (think ballroom not full face).

Magic: An Expert in Illusion talents. Particularly in Invisibility and Charm skills.

Class: Agent/ Thief

Personal History:
Born to the Callenburg family in Northern High Rock, young Ulric was destined for great and unfortunate things. Belonging to a minor noble family he displayed the wiry strength and quick wit of his father, coupled with the rare gifts of his mother. He was trained for a life of diplomacy fit for one of his position as well as the skills needed to survive in the wilds of his northern homeland. When it became apparent that he also possessed skill in the magical arts he was approached by a man bearing the seal of an organization known as "The Kings Eye." It was a group of handpicked individuals trained from youth to serve the needs of the royalty of High Rock. They were experts in subterfuge and formed a special secret police of sorts keeping tabs on any outside political threats. Ulric's parents, both knowing there son needed to develop his talents agreed and until his 22nd winter he seemed to be the most promising prospect The Kings Eye had ever seen. Indeed if it wasn't for the tragical events that proceeded him would he have been. On the eve of his indoctrination, a courier came bearing dire news for the young Ulric. His parents estate had been raided in the night, his father and there retainers slain, his mother was brutally [censored] and hung from a tree to be set upon by the wilderness creatures. Ulric vowed vengeance but his superiors demanded otherwise, the orders of the king came first. Ulric hastily agreed but instead of pursuing his mission he went on the lamb to pursue the men who had taken everything from him. Using the skills he learned he crafted an alternate persona, one to increase his wealth and retain his families name and legacy while remaining out of the sight of the organization that now hunted him. Indeed every city Ulric has visited is also plagued by a thief of increasing concern, "The Grand Illusionist." Meanwhile with guards chasing a nefarious thief Ulric is free to pursue local favors from the lords around him thanks to his silver tongue and incredible wit. While often he finds himself on the wrong end of the law he has also found his way out, whether through his words or simply disappearing in the dead of night. He still hunts the bandits responsible for his parents death but in the meantime he is simply trying to find his own place in the world, as long as it suites his tastes of course!

Sentinel

"Who's that man in the corner?"
"How should I know, he just showed up."
"He doesn't belong here, look at him! He's practically falling over the fetcher!"
"These minor nobles, little better then well dressed guars! He looks like he's been staying in a stall for a month"
"I cant take it anymore! I wont stand for this!"

Url Vah and his accomplice Rosarion, both some of the more arrogant and profitable merchants in the area stared in disgust at the slump that was sprawled, quite drunkenly in one of the finest noble establishments of Sentinel. Pushing their chairs back they walked, chests puffed out, towards the unwanted stranger.

"You dog!" Yelled Url Vah. "What in Oblivion do you think your doing in our Tavern! Go back to the trash you came from." Nothing answered from the stranger but a slurred mumble.
"He's drunk!" Rosarion chimed in giving the man a stout kick to the leg. Yet still nothing came from the guest but a jumble of slurred words. "This is inexcusable" Rosarion hissed as the metallic sheen of an ebony dagger escaped its sheath. "Ill teach this dog to understand his betters!"

As the blade came downwards two bright blue orbs awoke from the dirt covering the mans face and in a flurry of motion he sprang to life, twisting his adversaries wrist and pressing his own blade into the aggressors spine.

"Im sorry" whispered the man in a voice that rang out with confidence "But it appears that my betters have been terribly mistaken as to whom they should bully so carelessly."
"You fetcher! Ill have you lashed to the bone for laying a hand on me" spat Rosarion. A quick push of the blade ceased any further commentary from the agitated Redguard.
"Tell you what" continued the stranger. "Ill just take this lovely little dagger as a keepsake and in exchange ill be sure to........"
THWACK!!!!
Url Vah stood over the man, a silver vase in hand, breathing heavily equally from rage and the exertion his overweight frame was never used to. The stranger laid sprawled on the floor, apparently unconcious.
"Bastard should learn to watch his back" said Url Vah as he breathed deep and spat on the poor mans frame.
"Took you long enough" retorted Rosarion as he collected his dagger. "You thought you had the better of me! Nobody gets the better of Rosarion Galeshi!" He ended his curse with a crippling kick to the mans sternum. "Lets get out of here, I need to wash his stench off of me."

As the two men exited the establishment and out of sight a smile spread across the mans face. With a heave and a sigh Ulric pushed himself up onto his haunches and slowly rubbed where the fat mans blow had landed.
"Always such a treat coming to a new place, getting used to local customs" said Ulric as he heaved himself to his feet. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out the key he had slipped from Rosarions pocket. "Though meeting your neighbors is such an important part of fitting in" he chuckled to himself as he walked head held high and whistling a tune out the door as the rest of the tavern still gawking at the scene that had just unfolded simply watched......

The next morning the streets were alive with the gossip of the night before. Rosarion Galeshi, one of the most prominent merchants in Sentinel was found, his valuables robbed, and his personal treasury depleted was found still bound and tied to his seat. When finally able to comment all he could recollect was sitting before his fire when a man appeared before him from the shadows. He introduced himself as The Grand Illusionist and with a curt gesture paralyzed the man. He was enraged as he recounted how he was forced to watch the man with contemptuous ease find every secret hiding spot and before disappearing into the night he looked back and smiled. Ulric simply walked through the streets, whistling a tune, bedecked in brand new clothes and equipment made his way towards the palace. If he was to leave his mark here he was going to start from the very top. Sentinel would prove to be a promising prospect and who would guess the Lords new agent as the same infamous thief plaguing the local aristocracy.

OOC: Hope this opening post suits everybody, I just wanted to see if I didnt break any rules before continuing. Hope to contribute to a great story so far!

Roxanna, Ruhk and Xerxes

"You are too good at flattery nephew, no doubt you drive all the young women in the Palace crazy with your "antics"" she laughed, her face showing a warmth and glow that had not seen the light of day in a long time, save for when with her husband and daughter, the latter being far less than she would like. Quickly her expression turned again, the hint of her smile still lingering on her mouth. "Ruhk is right however, we should retire to another venue, less there be a spy about." she joked, taking both men by their arms, one on each side as she led them up the step and into the magnificant Palace that dominated the entire Sentillian skyline.

"I don't see why the need for such secrecy, with you two here no lady could feel safer." she continued to muse as they turned down one of the great outer halls that surrounded the base of the Palace. A uniquely crafted glass imported from Summerset covered the hall, letting all get a gimps into the outer halls and see the splendor of the the High King's home. The hall's were filled with delicate plants from all over Hammerfell, the halls acting as a sort of green house that allowed for what appeared to be a jungle of vibrant plant life to thrive around the Palace. This had been a recent addition to the grand home of the Empire's royalty, a gift to Roxanna by Haroun given her love of such things.

About a ten minute walk ensued before they reached a door that led into a large lounge room that doubled as a sauna. The steam could be felt from adjacent room's through small cracks in the wall as she led the men to set down in one of the lavish chairs. "Now, tell me Ruhk, what do we need to speak of that requires such cloak and dagger?"

Somewhere between Skaven and Taneth

The sound of thundering hooves and cries of pain echoed out as Hasturbal let out a low sigh of relief, Hoonding had favored them and made-way for their escape. "Cover the retreat and drive these infidels back, send them screaming to the Far Shores, we meet at the bleeding rock!" he shouted out to the young and brash warrior who rode past him. A warrior he was proud to call his son. The remains of his force would fight wildly as they pushed their way through their enemies, dropping more evidence in the form of weapons and shields to further incriminate the local tribes of the attack. Not long after Hasturbal would find himself and what appeared to be a mere half his force remaining from the battle as they diapered into the night, leaving the bloody mess of a trap behind them.

The group would find itself recovering an hour later at a place they called the Bleeding Rock, an ancient sacrificial rock supposedly used by Rihad the Martyr herself in the time of the first warrior wave. Fashi and Hasturbal lay on the ground under the massive rock, stained red with the blood of thousands of sacrifices from over the long years. "Too close." Fashi said, leaning up as one of the other men tended to his wounds. Hasturbal could do nothing but nod, it was indeed too close.

"Where's my son?" he demanded as another of his warriors came up to him, placing a heaping patch of maggots on his grievous arm wound.

Road north of Taneth

As quickly as the enemy had approached, they disappeared into the night. Tarsius could now turn his attention to command matters again. Their first matter was saving the wounded.

"Captain Teria, how many did we lose?"

"Right now, we have thirty six wounded and twenty dead."

"Strange, I thought there would be more wounded."

"There were, commander. But the rest have been healed." Tarsius removed his helmet. It was fortunate that so many knights knew how to heal others and themselves; magic was something that the natives did not often utilize beyond those spirit swords. And even then it was mercifully rare. Still, it was never pleasant to know that not everyone who set out would come back alive.

"Get the wounded patched up, anybody who can heal others, I want to see healing. And don't worry about fully healing everyone, just stabilize as many as you can. We can heal them on the way to Taneth. The rest can load our dead, and a few of the enemy dead, into the wagons. And be sure to get their weapons too. And after you do that, find me as many knights that know night-eye as possible."

Tarsius turned to help heal the wounded. Their ability to get the wounded back to fighting shape would be crucial; they weren't out of this yet.

OOC: And yes, it's perfectly reasonable for a few knights to know night-eye; Illusion was a major skill in the Knight class in TES IV.

OOC: Adub, please check your PM inbox.

Swims-in-Shadows, Rihad

Swims-in-Shadows couldn't help but be confused at the odd decorations of the house of Cyric's friend. While the house was unmistakably large and lavish, although the decor looked as though it had been designed by a madman. Tapestries portraying odd subjects, an odd golden egg, and nonsensically-placed furniture dominated the entry chamber, and the two doors that led further into the house were actually labeled based on what lay behind them. Then again, based on the utter insanity of the rest of the room, Swims would not have been surprised to find that whoever owned this house had deliberately lied on the banners. The Argonian bandit nervously stepped inside the house, his hand hovering over his dagger in case anything happened.

As Swims entered the bizarre house, he noticed the mysterious Breton in the Colovian finery using some sort of crystal device to hold a conversation with someone who wasn't present with the group. Odd. I've never seen anything like it. Fascinated, the Argonian stood and watched the Breton speak with someone who sounded like a Redguard about some nautical subject. Swims was not nearly as interested by the conversation itself, which seemed to be mostly about matters unrelated to him, as he was by the crystal used to conduct it. After the Breton had pocketed the crystal and entered, gawking at the odd decorations, Swims paused for a moment and spoke.

"What is that device you were using?" he asked, genuinely curious about the crystal sphere.

Justaine Dalomax - "The Wraith of the Abacean and the Crystal Ball" - Rihad, A Safehouse


"What is that device you were using?", the Argonian had asked... obviously curious about the crystalline orb.


Justaine patted his pocket affectionately, then plucked the sphere out between his fingertips and offered it to the reptilian/amphibious man with a coy grin. It would appear, at a glance, to be nothing more than a rather small crystal ball. In fact, that was precisely what it was... save for that this one had been removed from its stand prior to its owner disembarking from his ship.

However, with a bit of magic flowed through it, it became far more useful.

Justaine chuckled pleasantly and shook his head.

"That, my finely scaled friend... is a Crystal Ball. Nothing special, really, save for that this one has been enchanted. When one channels a bit of magicka through the crystal surface of the orb, the Sound spell infused within begins to resonate at an extremely high frequency inaudible to the ear. Dependent upon the strength of the enchantment, and the amount of magicka channeled, the crystal ball will resonate on this frequency for greater and greater distances. On the other end, there is another crystal ball enchanted with the same spell. This one, too, will resonate... connecting them. So long as the crystal resonates, anything spoken directly into it can be heard on the other end. I use these to communicate with my crewmen when we are separated."

He paused, then chuckled and shook his head. It didn't really matter, now, if his secret was out.

"It was a rather ingenious system, really... a Brother Piner of the Order of Talos invented the technique. He is a very clever man, no?"

To be honest, Justaine was a bit nervous around the Argonian.

He'd never really gotten to know many in his travels... save for a few who had lived in Evermor during his period of drunken stupor... and none of them had been particularly pleasant. Or responsible. He'd learned enough about their species to know they could hide emotion very well, however... and that many carried around a certain amount of resentment for their treatment at the hands of the Empire.

Most of it was well-founded... if often misdirected.

Justaine shook his head again, returning himself to the present, and projected: "Keep it! Should you ever find an enchanter who can make you another, it may well help save your life one day. Just be careful. They are quite fragile. I once forgot I had one tucked away in my robe pocket, and sat on it. That was a highly unpleasant visit to the healer's shop."

ooc: Nothing wrong with a knight knowing Night eye Crimson, but if you can throw in an extra dose of bad ass I'd appreciate it. In SoS we tried to expand and preserve the mystique of magic by making it rarer and expanding its effects instead of sparkly lights leaving everyones hands and your simple commoner being able to throw a fireball. If so please expand on the knight's use of the magic. I can definitely see the legendary knights of the nine having a few spell slingers though. And Immortal, has Nasser paid attention to anything Haroun said? Or is he high off of qat.

IC:

Rihad Palace, the Meeting Room

Amaru's outburst was expected, the man after all was a warrior first and foremost. However the whine of the Imperial served only to aggravate. Haroun's green orbs scoured the men of Rihad's council, seeing the fear Nasser had alluded to in there eyes. His words had fallen on deaf ears then. Haroun turned to his brother in law Bomlikar, then to his Godfather. His hands folded neatly behind his back, a quite crept into the room after Crixus' own barb. The Elden Yokeda would intervene before diplomacy was abandoned all together and the men in the room raised the ante.

In fierce Yoku, "Amaru! Stand down. Now is not the time for disputes between warriors. Steel yourself." the famous Ra Gada temper was hard to keep in check. These talks were too important to be squandered simply for the bickering between men who would like nothing more than to kill each other. The High King continued to ignore Stanet and help keep him from becoming more of a nuisance by continuing his talks with Nasser. Not missing a beat, the High King responded swiftly.

"Elder, you need not bow down to Crowns nor would I ask you to allow yourselves to be left forgotten, I would ask only that you assist in ending bloodshed for your people...our people, by allowing ourselves to unite under the banner of all Ra Gada. You ask me, what is justice? I answer this, justice is the perseverance over infidels through mortal combat. Defending the honor and lives of those who would slaughter our people as if cattle...such was the case in Chasetown and Porthago."

Haroun stared at Nasser intently, the man was old and wise. But would he allow for the stubborn ways of his people to bring war, this was the possibility to unite a nation. The room was quiet except for a few whispers here and there, and the ever loudening crackle of the fireplace.

Then a rumbling voice popped up, once again in Yoku. "If you question whether or not a Crown dynasty leads the Yokudan Empire, you need not search for an answer, I shall gladly tell you that the High King's wife is Roxanna of the Barca, a Princess of the foremost Forebear tribe of the Alik'r and sister to the current regent of the Warrior wave, Bomlikar Barca." his hand was gestured out, as if inviting Bomlikar to join the talks. Frandar stroked his beard hoping that a powerful Forebear presence would allow the Rihad Forebears to listen more carefully. It was not simply Crowns they spoke with, they spoke with men from all affiliations in Hammerfell.

Haroun smirked seeing his brother in law. Sorry brother, you'd have to get involved some time.

The High King turned once again to Nasser, "The road is not easy, yet the ever winding path to peace is always a worthy one, how ever many turns it may take."

Rihad Council
Lysandra

Listening intently to the barbed - if sometimes rather blunt - banter thrown about the room, Lysandra quietly made her way to the designated translator. A middle-aged Raga man dressed in clearly Forebear apparel - simple-looking, to highlight his heritage, but made from fine materials to reflect the fact his family had gone far from their lower-class origins - he seemed to be a noble of some sort or another, clearly not here merely to translate, but also because of whatever importance he had - or used to have - in Rihad's hierarchy. When the battlemage helped herself to the empty seat next to him, the Forebear cast an inspectory and maybe slightly offended glance at her, before catching sight of the dragon tattooed on her face, a mark that made Lysandra quite easy to describe outside of the Nibenay, where few true Cyrodiil-born Nibenese could be found. Faced with this undeniable evidence, the noble merely nodded his head in greeting.

The heathen must find this rather painful, having to treat me like his equal. Lysandra answered with a smile, one produced with completely different thoughts than politeness. Of course, he should be glad no one reminds him we're not actually equals; as things are now, I'm his superior.

"What does the High King speak?" The battlemage whispered, deciding that being able to understand what the stubborn heathen delegation - particularly their High King, who seemed bent on not speaking any civilized tongue - was worth cooperating with the Forebear. Though he obviously didn't enjoy this new company, the noble quickly went over the gist of what had been said prior to Lysandra entrance in both Cyrodiilic and Yoku, and what was being said now between Haroun and Nasser in a similarly hushed voice. Satisfied with this short briefing and possessing the knowledge of what she had heard herself, the Nibenese stood up from the seat which she had just taken.

"Crixus Abu Nakute, if I am not mistaken?" Lysandra nodded to the aged Ra Gada who had just spoken, prodding Terentius in what was most likely an attempt to make the Knight Commander lose his temper. "I had heard the famous author was part of the Imperial delegation, it is truly an honour. Your mastery of the quill never ceases to impress, if I may allow such pleasantries to get in the way of getting to the gist of the matter."

"While I would not dare question your expertise on international diplomacy, seeing as you undeniably have the most experience with such matters in this council - without meaning to insult any of those present - I would question the value of bringing up the Knight Commander's family. The count of Bravil does not impact this meeting in any way, shape or form, neither does the fact the Knight Commander is his son, nor do his motivations for joining the Fellow-Soldiers of the Eight-and-One. What does matter is that the Knight Commander is undeniably here and his presence was requested by the Forebears of Rihad, same as with myself, same as with the Imperial Delegation."

"I remind you of the reason of our presence here not merely to steer the talks towards a more useful direction, but also to solve the question of the language spoken. These are the halls of Rihad; let Nasser of Rihad decide what language will be spoken."

Lysandra stopped for a bit, glancing at Nasser. If the figurehead of Rihad knew what was good for him, he'd instruct them all to speak Nibenese; if not, she could work with that, but shutting the Yokudan delegation up on the language question would be most useful. If they questioned the decision, they would be dishonouring Nasser and the Forebears of Rihad in their own halls, something the battlemage would be eager to point out and something that would most likely merely further reinforce the notion of Crown arrogance most Forebears present here carried instead of serving any viable purpose.

"And, High King, if I may be so bold to interject... Your Imperial Majesty's policies, from what I understand about them, in some ways sound remarkably similar to those of the legitimate High King of Sentinel before Your Imperial Majesty's father, Lhotun." She made sure to put a slight emphasis on the word 'legitimate'. "I believe the regrettable assassination of Your Imperial Majesty's Crown father, Thassad III, is about to be commemorated on Sentinel. I find it peculiar that I have never heard of a similar occasion to mark the Crowns' deposing of Lhotun... Purely misinformation on my part, I am sure." There was nothing in Lysandra's voice or her facial expression that expressed an intent to insult, merely simple curiosity. But if they wanted to, the Forebears in the room - already quite unnerved by the Ansei's inappropriate outburst - would read into this as the Nibenese thought they would. Crown agression against Sentinel's legitimate rulers wasn't just ancient history - fresh facts were there for all to see.

Truth be told, Lysandra herself didn't care much about what the Forebears thought - they would be forced to fall in line anyway. But it was obvious the Yokudans came here to fight a battle over the hearts and minds of the Forebear nobility, and the battlemage was more than happy to alter her initial plan in order to keep them from getting what they wanted.

Hvitir Frost Marrow - "The Decision" - Somewhere North of Rihad



It had all happened so quickly, and yet... she was so very slow to recover.


Even as Hvitir stood on deck, watching her sailors at work, she couldn't shake the sense of terror she had felt at the cold shill of a knife against her throat. She had thought herself safe aboard her ship, once... but now that was a distant memory, an illusion shattered like so many childish dreams. He had been in her cabin, her sanctum, while she had let her guard down thinking about the Captain.

He had heard her longing after him aloud! Like some lusty young lovestruck maiden!

The humiliation of it all only made it worse, but she was recovering. Slowly.


Her navigator, a young Bosmer woman by the name of Cywendir, slowly climbed the stairs to join her. She was quite attractive, for a Wood Elf, and served not only the purpose of navigating, but also of keeping the crewmen distracted enough from their work to ensure they stayed complacent. Cywendir had been the Assistant-Navigator aboard the "Insurmountable"... and so she was a friendly, familiar face in a time where Hvitir needed one most. Furthermore, she was a confidante.

In the hour following the arrival of that dreadful message, she had gone to Cywendir for counsel and comfort.


"You seem, distant... standing up here all alone." she spoke softly, slipping an arm around her Captain's back with a smile. "Are you thinking about him again? Or are you thinking about the messenger?"

Hvitir shuddered a bit at the touch, some of that chill in her replaced by warmth. After a brief silence, she laughed softly and shook her head.

"Can't I think of them both? I... have a decision to make. I would like to think I'm making the decision he would make. He has always been my guide when it came to matters of conscience like this. Would he do it, if it meant there was a chance to save the Empire from unraveling at the seams? Would he do it if it meant that the bloodshed about to erupt in this land would be over sooner? What would he do... if he received a message like this? What would he say when that dire messenger came back, with his cold knife, and threatened his life."

Cywendir was far better at the art of seduction than she was at the art of navigation, and she was a damned fine navigator. Her lips eased up beside Hvitir's ear, issuing forth words in a tone which made them provocative, despite there being no real provocation in them.

"He would do it... if it meant keeping you safe from whatever monster dreamed up this madness. And then he would hunt him down, and kill him. And everyone who worked with him. That's the kind of man the Captain is. And that's why we love him."

Hvitir laughed again, though obviously flustered, and bobbed her head.

"You're probably right. I think he would do it. He would do it for the Empire... and to keep me safe... and because he's terrifically stupid like that. And then the blood would really start spilling, when he worked out who was responsible. And then we could all watch as the Wraith of the Abacean truly lived up to his name, once more."

Cywendir gave her Captain a squeeze, then kissed her cheek affectionately and drew away.

"Well, then! I think I shall retire from my duties early, this afternoon, and draw a bath. I fear that I am beginning to smell almost as foul as the rest of your crew. Do you think that you should like to join me, once you've made up your mind about this message? I can keep the water warm for you, if so."

Hvitir bit her lip quietly and glanced down at the scroll, still clutched tightly in her hand.

She unraveled it, and read it over once more.


'It has been determined by the powers that be, that war must be declared.
Blood must be spilled early, that less might be spilled over all.
You have been chosen to instigate this war.
Prepare your ballistas, and open fire on the Port of Rihad in broad daylight.
Delivered to your ship... is a flag bearing the standard of Sentinel.
You will fly it, and launch the attack, five days from now.
Fail to comply, and your blood shall be spilled first.
You have four days to decide.

-Vigilant'


Cywendir watched curiously as Hvitir made her resolution. Her body language shifted almost instantly. Where she had been terrified and lost, before... now she had direction. The hunter in her... the animal... it was far more comfortable with this new sensation. It loaned her the strength needed to steel herself for the task at hand. There would be time for revenge, later.

Hvitir almost laughed as she stepped back from he helm and let one of the other helmsmen take over.

As she and Cywendir descended into the lower level of the ship's cabin, Hvitir gave the Bosmer woman a sideways glance and grinned.

"Let's start a war... we're long overdue for a bloodbath."

[font="Trebuchet MS"]Rihad Council
Lysandra

"Crixus Abu Nakute, if I am not mistaken?" Lysandra nodded to the aged Ra Gada who had just spoken, prodding Terentius in what was most likely an attempt to make the Knight Commander lose his temper. "I had heard the famous author was part of the Imperial delegation, it is truly an honour. Your mastery of the quill never ceases to impress, if I may allow such pleasantries to get in the way of getting to the gist of the matter."

"While I would not dare question your expertise on international diplomacy, seeing as you undeniably have the most experience with such matters in this council - without meaning to insult any of those present - I would question the value of bringing up the Knight Commander's family. The count of Bravil does not impact this meeting in any way, shape or form, neither does the fact the Knight Commander is his son, nor do his motivations for joining the Fellow-Soldiers of the Eight-and-One. What does matter is that the Knight Commander is undeniably here and his presence was requested by the Forebears of Rihad, same as with myself, same as with the Imperial Delegation."

"I remind you of the reason of our presence here not merely to steer the talks towards a more useful direction, but also to solve the question of the language spoken. These are the halls of Rihad; let Nasser of Rihad decide what language will be spoken."

The Delegation, The Meeting Room

Crixus nodded with a soft smile poking out from behind his white beard before letting out a soft sigh of relief. It took a great burden off his shoulders to know there was at least one Knight amongst the Nine who had some decency for proper respect and procession of things, even if it was likely all an act, the gesture was appreciated and could be worked with, unlike the so called Knight Commander who's head was large enough to boot everyone of them from the room. "My apologies, please forgive me if I was out of line, I sometimes forget myself." he spoke humbly before resuming his offensive.

"I merely sought to make it clear to the council the Knight Commander's attitude was not a fault of his own, but due to the absence of proper upbringing in civilized etiquette. I'm certain the Knight Commander does not mean to prod at the High King's delegation by showing such disrespect and cultural insensitivity to a man who's station is far beyond that of a simple military commander. If you and your kind are here in an advisory position, like you claim, than the language of such should not matter to you, as this is a matter between the Empire of Yokuda and the Forbearer coalition in which good Nesser represents." his tone was firm yet passive, the Knight he recognized as Lysandra was a far shrewder politician than her military status would suggest and it made him wonder just how Terentius had made it to the rank of Knight Commander before her.

"That being said, Yoku is the traditional language of the Ra'gada, both Crown and Forebearer. I don't see any reason for debate on the matter, it's a language both parties are comfortable with and is culturally the correct choice. While I do agree with the Knight Commander, speaking without translators would make this meeting go smoother, it's not to our fault he and his ilk did not take the time or study to learn the local language when he arrived in Rihad."

Rithe, Rihad

Rithe watched suspiciously as the Breton conversed with what sounded like a Redguard through a crystalline ball. I wonder what that could be about he thought as he entered the house. His eyes were greeted with a myriad of odd objects and furnishings, it would have seemed as if they had walked into the abode of Sheogorath himself. Rithe walked into the main room, eying every corner and crevice looking for things that could indicate a trap. Hmm nothing seems out of place...however in a place like this out of place could mean a lot of things...

For the first time since meeting the group Rithe removed his jet black hood, his hair now shorter than it used to be was tied back in a partial wind-knot. His face was now unveiled to the rest of the group, he brushed a loose piece of hair from his face as he made his way towards Arethan.

"I know you do not trust me, but it is necessary that we talk. There are many things that must be discussed if we plan on finding him withing this era."


Athanden, Rihad

Smoke curled through the air as Athanden took a puff from his pipe, he had already placed the half empty bottle of matze in a sack and now sat at the counter wondering about how the meeting with the High King was going. He looked over at his men who seemed to be enjoying themselves, a reprieve from the scorching hot weather was a gladly excepted invitation by his men. Athanden took another puff from the pipe, the aroma now pervaded the room.

Athanden was quite an interesting mer, he was just as ruthless and cold-hearted as he was kind and charming. He could host a rather nice evening dinner with nobles and pretty young girls as well as remove the head of someone who crossed him and laugh while doing it. It all depended on what side of the line you fell on, most of his friends and mercenaries fell on his good side while business associates and others of that ilk tended to see his more abrasive side, which is somewhere you really would not want to be. To be blunt Athanden was your typical businessman.

Athanden took one last puff from his pipe then emptied the ashes into a small bowl on the counter as he began to think about how he was going to convince the Knight Commander to hire him.

Rihad

Nasser grinned enjoying the little exchange between the members there as if it was all their soup pot to cook in. Waiting for the others to finish he continued to answer Hauron. "I don't think it much matters who's mother is the queen of wherever else. Wherever that is, that is not here. And we can not change that. The crowns are no less foreign than the imperials to us. At least in the past they have treated us better. Why else should we join? Because this is all 'our land' collectively? Considering the past, the Dwemer, the Orismer, the Imperials, we have been by far the worst patrons of these lands. We killed and massacred everything that moved. Now you want to stir the pot again? Why don't we all just sit and relax. We could visit, bring some tea, yeah, some tea, smoke a little, eat a little, sleep some. And then in a few generations when our priorities are all straight, perhaps your children's grand children will over look the peaceful unification between it all. Until then, why force it? You're just going to make a mess."

Aryon's Stepping Tower


"Morrowind? Are you getting home sick, Elegant?" Crane quickly puffed the shisha smoke and then slowly released it through his nostrils giving him a dragonic appearance.

"I can't say I have anywhere to return to."

"Well, Helseth's rule has become even more centralized. There seems to be a bit of an influence fight going on between supporters of Elysana and supporters of Helseth in the Imperial City. Perhaps the Nords would have their own candidate if they weren't busy killing each other." Crane carelessly drank the last bit of tea from his cup only to have Aryon re-fill it. "Aside from that not much has changed. Typical inter house squabbling, Argonians in the south rattling around. I'm not sure I care, and i'm not sure you do either."

"You're right, rather I ask to confirm my sentiments of apathy."

"Ah my appointment is here." Aryon remarked as he stood up walking across the room to one of the doors. Beside it was a disc embedded in the wall with sub sections of varying size circling one another. Each portion also had symbols Andrethi could not read but recognized to be Dwemer. Aryon turned these portions and then opened the door. As he did the sound of street life and the cast of light unlike that found in the mountains was seen. In the door way stood a lovely elven lady, her skin a soft gold, her lips adorned with a vertical line of black right down the middle. From the corner of her eyes, down her cheeks ran two paralleled black lines as well. Her clasped hands were adorned with varied rings, the most ominous one being on her right middle finger which had a two inch protruding spike.

"Ah miss Direnni, please come and sit with my guests."

"Please, Serjo, Ai is just fine." She smiled as she entered the room, the door closing behind her.

"Then please, Aryon will do just as well. These are my friends, Andrethi and Crane." The Telvanni mage made his way out of the room in order to make preparations.

Her eyes wandered over them both. Crane was dressed rather well and sat in a relaxed manner leaning against his elbow. His head was tipped back as if enjoying her lovely appearance in a rather cavalier manner. She could obviously tell "Crane" was an epithet and not his actual name, but she could see why that was his name. Even though Andrethi was just as, if not more so slender and lithe, Crane had that haughtyness that the actual bird seemed to express as it flew above others. Andrethi on the other hand seemed wilder. The manner in which he was dressed seemed like that of a mountain dweller. He also sat in a much more refrained manner and had refused almost all but the most initial eye contact instead minding his own business completely. Was he offended by her in some manner she wondered? Slipping her feet out of her sandals she stepped on one of the pillows before lowering herself down to sit. Andrethi was to her immediate left and Crane on the other side of him.

"How do you do? Please smoke, here allow me to pour you some tea." Even when offering service, there was something cocky about Crane, subtle enough to notice yet at the same time in that same subtlety, not enough to get out right offended and be justified.

"Just the tea." She took the cup resting it on her thigh while her hands nestled the sides of the dish. Dark thin material in the form of a robe clung to her skin. Intricate and beautifully designed red roses on the robe seemed to always rest on the right places. "So what is it that you have done that earned you your name?"

"It is an artistic name given to me by my mentor. He said that I and the bird had similar attributes. I also loved to illuminate in the old style relying on black ink alone and my favorite subject was cranes." Noticing Andrethi's quiet demeanor, typically aloof and shy he decided to inject him into the conversation. "Andrethi was likewise given an epithet, that of Elegant, for his mannerism and exquisite calligraphy. He also illuminates the most elegant of Deshaan horses and has worked on books for the likes of Sultan Seljuk."

Andrethi looked up at Crane in surprise in part that he felt betrayed having been thrown into a conversation he was happy to not be part of and also because of his surprise at Crane's knowledge of his recent past.


OOC: More tonight inshallah.

The Delegation, Meeting Room

"Noble Nesser, if I may interject.." Bomilkar finally spoke, taking off his fearsome mask as he put his hand on his hand on his brother-in-law and King's shoulder. Bomilkar's eye's met Haroun's for a moment, conveying the message they all knew in their hearts, this was hopeless, and it was time to put an end to these pointless talks. "You not only dishonor this whole delegation by your actions and careless words, but you insult me and my family..." his voice changed gradually from it's once cool, soft tone to one that was now full of anger and spite.

Nesser was a pawn, but a pawn to be made example of, afterall, the Forbearer way knew nothing but violence. Drawing his falcata in a swift concise movement he placed the edge of the blade at Nesser's throat, shaving off a few of the old man's white hair's from his beard as Bomilkar continued. "You stand here, before your Lord and dare insult my honor? the honor of all Forbears? Do you forget our ancestral duty, noble Nesser? To protect the Ra'Gada people? we ARE the Warrior Wave! We came to this land seeking a new home for the fledgling remains of our race, the blood of those who were here before gave fruit to a superior race of man and preserved our way of life, your way of life, until your ancestors invited these pale skinned devils here because they failed to withstand Prince A'tor." his hand and blade shook, drawing ever closer to the old mans neck.

"You forget Parthago and Chasetown? YOUR people Nesser, Forbearers, murdered by the Empire, home of these rabid [censored]'s who only stay to svckle off the tit of your prosttuted nation! Do you wish a further history lesson, dear Nesser? The blood you so put upon the High King and his ilk is undeserved, or do you deny that upon A'tor's father's death that the rabid Forebear's of your ancestry sacked Sentinel and washed it's street's in Crown blood?"

"You are nothing, Nesser, your not worth my words and not worthy of life, or do you forsake all that is sacred in our culture, brother? Surely you know the consequences of your transgression, afterall you do claim to be a Forbear." his Yoku came fast and bitter, the questions needing no answers as they spewed from his lips like arrows from an archers bow. "Allow me to answer for you; It's death, so how do you plea?" again he gave no time for answer before spitting out words again.

"How do you plea!?

Stanet Terentius, Rihad Meeting Room

Stanet watched in silent irritation as the old Redguard author, Crixus Abu Nakute, questioned his honor, his civility, and his family, but refused to say anything in response; he couldn't let his facade of arrogance and aloofness fall away. Thankfully, Lysandra came to his defense, trying to divert the subject away from the Terentius family while also solving the language offer. I see why high command wanted her at this meeting. That's some true skill at diplomacy she has. However, Crixus responded with an even more blatant jab at his family as Stanet watched with false calm.

"I merely sought to make it clear to the council the Knight Commander's attitude was not a fault of his own, but due to the absence of proper upbringing in civilized etiquette. I'm certain the Knight Commander does not mean to prod at the High King's delegation by showing such disrespect and cultural insensitivity to a man who's station is far beyond that of a simple military commander. If you and your kind are here in an advisory position, like you claim, than the language of such should not matter to you, as this is a matter between the Empire of Yokuda and the Forbearer coalition in which good Nesser represents." said the old Redguard. Stanet shook a little in rage at the insult to his family, about to stand and deliver a scathing barb of his own at Crixus, but Nasser managed to speak before he could. Probably for the best, thought the Knight Commander, doing his best to hide his fury.

Nasser's response seemed to ignore the heated discussion that had just transpired, which allowed Stanet to calm a little as he listened to the elderly diplomat speak of peace. Thankfully, these bullheaded fools will never take his advice. We didn't come all the way up here to occupy three cities; there will be war. The response from Sentinel's delegation shocked even Stanet, who was still fuming over the insults directed at him.

One of the desert khans spoke for a moment in calm Yoku, although his tone became harsh with incredible speed as he drew his falcata and pressed it to Nasser's throat, screaming furiously in the desert language. Stanet couldn't understand a single word of the tirade, but it was impossible to miss the khan's hostile intentions.

"Enough!" Stanet shouted as he practically jumped from his chair and onto his feet, still burning with rage from Crixus' prior insults. "If you harm that man in any way, I can assure you that you will not leave this city alive!" The Knight Commander paused as he looked around the room, feeling trepidation at the circumstances. He had left his weapons outside to avoid seeming hostile, but it had become clear that he might need it. Still, he would have to press on with his message.

"This was supposed to be a diplomatic meeting, not a brawl. You came into this city, insulted my honor and that of my family, grossly violated the decorum of a diplomatic meeting, and now you threaten the representative of Rihad with death for seeking a peaceful solution? Clearly, you are a threat to the peace and safety of the great city of Rihad, and your presence will no longer be tolerated here!" he continued with a slightly more calm tone, although his voice still shook with righteous fury and a tinge of fear for his own life.

"On behalf of Rihad and the Knights of the Nine, I demand that you leave this city immediately or face the highest consequences!"

The Delegation, The Meeting Room

"Still your tounge knight!" Bomilkar demanded now speaking in Cyrodiilic, shooting a menacing glare at the man who now interrupted. "You are not the King of Rihad, nor are you a Ra'gada, leave Ra'gada affair to those they pertain to! You have no power here Knight, I am Lord Regent of the Forbearer States by right of Wardship over the heir to Carlo, Xerxes, and this man and this whole affair is a rebellion, one best sealed in blood and submission to their master." Bomilkar's hand was now trembling so much with anger that the vibrations could easily make an incision into Nesser's neck, a welcome thought to Bomilkar who had now forced the Knights to show their true colors to the delegation.

"Your honor and demands are not of consequence here, you represent an order of raiders with a "holy" cause, not a nation, you are not a Forbear and how dare you assume to speak for one! and how dare you speak to me like a common dog! You and your kind are here not on the behest of anyone or anything other than your own greed and bloodlust, this man's life is well within my power and right to control, do not attempt to impede me like you would one of your subordinates!" Bomilkar's gaze now turned back to Nesser before him.

"Nesser knows our custom's, even if you do not. So what will it be Nesser, shall we seal this like Ra'Gada? or would you prefer to die a dog under their steely toed boot?"

The room was silent for the most part, all watching in awe as the tension came closer and closer to climix. Bomilkar could only think of one thing; bathing in their blood.

Stanet Terentius; Meeting Room, Rihad

Stanet glared at the desert khan furiously, his heart pounding with rage and indignation.

"Well, that's certainly worth a laugh, Lord Regent!" shouted the knight sardonically. "Here you are, with a blade to the throat of an unarmed and elderly man, and you call me a raider? I certainly understand why the people of Rihad invited us here to protect themselves from the likes of bloodthirsty thugs like you." Stanet glanced over at Lysandra; he would certainly need help if this affair degenerated into violence, which was a distressingly likely possibility.

"The Knights of the Nine are here in Rihad on legitimate business. Its citizens and leaders requested our presence for their safety; we did not invade this fine city, we were invited. To be honest, I don't blame them for wanting us here if you this is how you people conduct yourselves. You call the Knights of the Nine invaders and imperialists, yet you are the one making the threats, not us. You say that we will kill Nasser like a dog, but you are the only one threatening him." continued the Knight Commander.

As soon as Stanet finished his sentence, two Knights of the Nine burst into the room at the sound of the commotion. Per the orders Stanet had left for them prior to the meeting in the event of something like this, one of them carried the Knight Commander's fine glass longsword. Seeing the sword pressed to Nasser's throat and hearing the loud and heated threats and arguments, the two approached Sir Terentius quickly, handing him his blade as they surveyed the room. Taking his sword from the guard, Stanet spoke once again.

"You will not be allowed to come into this city and threaten its people with violence, no matter what titles you may have back in your empire. Leave the city now or die."

The Delegation, the Meeting Room

"You are an imbecile and arrogant whelp to assume to speak here. I am not Lord Regent in the Yokudan Empire alone, I am Lord Regent in the eyes of Forbearers everywhere, you pig headed fool!" his eyes returned Terentius. "Your order arrived here at the helm of the Imperial Legion during the War of the Wolves, or perhaps you weren't yet aware of your own orders operations. If you seem so keen on interjecting in business that is not your own, then please, let us settle this personally and spare the rest of your people here death at the hands our warriors. This isn't Cyrodill, this is Hammerfell, and you adhere to our custom's, not yours." he briefly pulled the sword away from Nesser's neck, watching as two guards burst into the room and handed the Knight Commander a sword. A brief smile flashed across Bomilkar's face, the man had gumption, a welcome relief for Bomilkar who was beginning to think these Knight's were all talk and no brass.

"A lilttle lesson, Knight." he started again, his sword pointed at Terentius. "You are interfering in the affair of the Forbearers, I am putting down a rebellion in MY kingdom, interfear again, and you will have all of Hammerfell up in arms against you, not just the Yokudan Empire. If you so strongly believe yourself their protector, then please, feel free to cross swords with me and settle this here and now, if not, then cease your threat's and leave this business to us. We will not leave Rihad on your whim, if these talks are over we will retire to Montblac's estate and leave in the morning, but don't dare threaten me, or this delegation."