Rihad, Docks

Vorandaril examined a pebble floating above his hand. Let's see how this one does. He then used his powers to propel it forward towards the water. The pebble skipped once before sinking. Not my worst toss. But surely I can do better.

Things had changed a lot since Vorandaril had underwent the rites that turned him into a lich. The Dragon Break, the Oblivion Crisis, the various wars that tore Tamriel apart, everything had changed. The once great Septim Empire had fragmented. It was amazing how he had lost track of time, amazing how he hadn't ventured into the outside world in over a century. At night he'd sometimes come outside to watch the moon and stars, but he never ventured far from Nayamdar, the Ayleid ruin that he called home. And here he was, in Rihad. He stuck out like a sore thumb, but it didn't matter; as long as they thought he was living, he was fine. The biggest problem was the language barrier; the locals spoke a different language. Fortunately, many people spoke Cyrodiilic, thanks to the influence of the Knights of the Nine.

Still, you didn't need to speak the local language to enjoy the atmosphere. Perhaps it was the result of his long time away from civilization, but sitting on a bench and watching the ships come in and out of the harbor and skipping rocks was quite amusing. It was amazing how pleasing such simple things could be. At least as long as none of those stupid sailors pestered him. It was a shame the City Guard didn't look too kindly on throwing people off the docks.

He looked down at his right hand, looking at it as he flexed the fingers and wrist. This was the reason he became a lich; no amount of telekinesis could make up for losing one's hand. Perhaps he had done it too early, perhaps he should have waited until he knew more. It didn't matter anymore though; even with his limited knowledge, he still had increased greatly in power. Power to keep what he had, power to punish those who tried to take it away. Perhaps it was his limited knowledge of the various magics that made him so powerful with what he did know. And what made him so creative with what he knew.

It was sad this tranquility wouldn't last; the city was on the brink of war, between knights that hate the undead, and a people that hate all magic. He didn't like siding with those that would likely try to kill him if they found out what he really was. But at least with the Knights he could pass himself off as a living mer. And if the Yokudans won they'd likely ban magic. Sooner or later, he feared they'd attack his home simply because of the ancient Ayleid magic still existing there. And if he had to fight in a war, few causes could be more important to him than protecting the freedom to use magic.

Delegation, Meeting Room

Haroun allowed the situation to unfold, inevitable. Both Forebear and Crown, stubborn to the end. Once Bomlikar drew his falcata, the Elden Yokeda's eyes narrowed. His heart began pumping extremely fast and palms grew sweaty. Such was the feeling before any physical confrontation. His brother in law was very quick to anger, having slain important men before, namely Elysana's bastard Corwin. A death that had affected so many lives and situations in Sentinel's life on the Iliac.

Back to the moment at hand, Knights burst into the delegation, the Commander was armed, and the Ansei's quick eye took note of the peculiar glow in Lysandra's eye.

Devilish.

In accented Cyrodiil, the Elden Yokeda spoke whilst placing his arm on Bomlikar's own shoulder.

"Knight Commander Terentius, this is a matter of Ra Gada honor. Threats of death will do nothing to solve the matter, and the challenged does indeed have choice." his eyes remained fixed on Nasser, once again continuing in Cyrodiil, "Nasser of the falls, you have ignored the fact that I have repeatedly stated the Crowns are not the power within the Yokudan Empire...the individual is the power. He paves his own path. Your careless discussion and disregard for any besmirch on the honor and good works of Forebear and Crown who had died with your freedom in their hopes leaves me...infuriated." he spoke calmly, the old temper of the High King still existed, but mastered.

"To the woman, Thassad III died a king of his people, Lhotun was deposed by his people."

Perhaps these talks really would go nowhere. He expected as much. Though not expecting RIhad to be so stubborn and intent on resisting unification. Perhaps it did not make sense to them, Rihad would only see any Ra Gada institution in charge, as being led by the Crown party. SImple minded? Not quite, but lost in tradition and old way of thought...yes. Lhotun and Haroun had a similar goal. The late King of Sentinel wished to appease both parties by incorporating a mix of tradition and culture, while Haroun sought to abolish both as institutions, leaving all Yokudan tradition up each man to practice on his own. Birth affiliation and maintaining the power of both factions would never cease bloodshed.

Returning to Yoku, "Peace has not been attained in centuries, I will not sit by carelessly as our people die, or are conquered under the boot of an Elf or pale skin. I will end our ongoing civil war, this I promise Elder. I only ask that you forgive me for what I must do to attain it."

Mongati HoonDing tiavo; li-mansao einei diang

"

Rihad


"...Peace has not been attained in centuries, I will not sit by carelessly as our people die, or are conquered under the boot of an Elf or pale skin. I will end our ongoing civil war, this I promise Elder. I only ask that you forgive me for what I must do to attain it."

"As our people die? Right now someone is killing them somewhere? Or is that what you are about to plunge Hammerfell into? Know when you come back it will be as a conqueror, not as a liberator and the more you try to squeeze more lands into your grasp the more is going to slip between your fingers." With that the meeting seemed over. What else could really be said? Nasser's grey eyes half closed as he rested his clasped hands on his belly. "And so it will be..." He said to himself.


OOC: Sorry for the crappiness of this. My professor thought it was cool to give us a 350 page book to read and write a report on during break. So gtfo and let the blood start flowing. I'm kind of having trouble RPing all these characters but once the focus gets more military that can take a back burner. Still wouldn't mind an official "leader" of the 'Forebear' side. Ok off to reading...

Rihad Council
Lysandra

When the khan - who her translator had explained to be Bomilkar, the supposed Lord Regent of all Forebears and khan of the Barca tribe - drew his falcata, Lysandra didn't shout or actually let out any sort of sound, unlike Terentius, who practically clashed swords with the Raga (or he would've had he been in possession of his at the time). No, she simply stood up silently but rather abruptly, but she had long since learned she didn't need to yell anything or do whatever; the Nibenese was a battlemage, after all, direct physical action wasn't required as far as she was concerned. The Forebear sitting next to her shifted uncomfortably, disturbed by a strange aura of sorts that could vaguely be felt comming from her, like a faint smell or a very light breeze, yet not.

The High King stepping in seemed to defuse the situation to some extent, however the battlemage didn't sit down; none of the knights would stand down now, given how explosive the council had suddenly become. Peace talks were well and truly over now, the war both sides realized to be inevitable seemed right around the corner. For a moment, it seemed like bloodshed would start this very day in the keep of Rihad.

"If such is the definition of diplomacy in the Yokudan Empire..." Lysandra's voice was void of the softness previously present; not openly agressive, but it allowed the delegation to understand she hadn't stood up out of surprise or with the intention of fleeing. "I suppose I understand, then, why the Forebears of Rihad request our presence in this meeting. They don't need a diplomat to advise them; they need a battlemage to protect them."

Haroun's response to her query about Lhotun seemed a bit too short and blunt to sway the Forebears in the room; that more than anything showed Lysandra that the diplomacy was well and truly over. She didn't even bother exploring the question further or finding a new angle for attack, whether against Crixus' insistance about using the Yoku language or the High King's attempts to sway the influentials of Rihad to the Yokudans' side. "I'm sure he was, Your Imperial Highness." That was the full extent of her reply.

When she spoke again, her voice remained the same as when she stood up, but seemed more persuasive, gently compelling the listeners to cooperate. "I suppose, then, nothing else remains to be said; where swords are drawn, the spring of reason and diplomacy runs dry. It would probably be best if this meeting was discontinued, lest actual blood is drawn."

She hadn't used her Illusion in such a mundane way for a long time; Lysandra prefered to do the talking herself, steering clear of the use of magick. In this case, it was neccessary to keep it very weak and gentle - she knew the heathens' outlook on the use of magick, another weakness of theirs. However, the situation was such that she deemed it better to use a bit of brute magick and muscle a way out, so to speak - while the use of magick was barely noticeable if at all to an individual not trained in the arcane, to a diplomat it was almost the same as putting your sword to the opponent's neck and demanding favourable terms.

The Delegation, Meeting Room

Bomilkar turned to look at Haroun, who's hand now rested on Bomilkar's shoulder. The look he gave his King was an unsettling look, he knew he was out of line, and that he'd likely forced war sooner than it should have been, but it was inevitable all the same. Bomilkar's eye's now turned to Nesser as he slowly withdrew his falcata and sheathed in in his red sash wrapped around his waste. The look he gave the old man was a cold one, like the eye's of death themselves settling upon his sage like figure. Bomilkar spoke lowly to Nesser in his tongue of Desert Yoku, the words hot with temper that now started cooling like magma falling into the ocean waters. "Your life will be mine by the time this is over old man" he glared before speaking one final line. "May Tuwacca guide you safely to the Far Shore's, be sure to not keep him waiting."

Turning back to Haroun Bomilkar gave a short bow motioning to Amaru and the rest of the delegation who began making their out of the meeting room. Bomilkar stayed behind, placing his mask back upon his face and turning to the Imperial side of the room. "Yes, I believe your right." he spoke to Lysandra, the witch's power could be barely detected in the room, like a cool breeze from an open window, though there were none. He had felt it before, in Elsewyre, though it was in a far large capacity than the feeling he felt now, and far more unnerving.

Turning to Terentius a smirk came across his face. "I look forward to our next encounter, Knight Commander." he spoke in Cyrodillic, his voice carrying a subtle hint of malice and anticipation before following up with a more formal bow. "I assume you'd honor our fleeting good term's until we leave the city at first light tomorrow mourning?" he reached out his hand, offering a hand shake to seal the deal.

Road north of Taneth

"Sir, the dead and wounded have been loaded up, and we're ready to depart, awaiting your orders."

"What's the status on our wounded, Captain?"

"We lost five more to their wounds before the healers could get to them. The rest are stabilized, although it may be a while before they're ready to fight again."

"It'll be less time than the Nomads will take to heal, but we need to move out. Prepare all wagons to move out. And make sure all light sources are extinguished."

Tarsius climbed aboard the lead wagon. They had to get back to Taneth before the Nomads could reorganize for another attack. At least there were three knights in the party that knew Night-Eye. But even with such an asset, it'd be suidical to stick around and wait for the Nomads to return. That they had light cavalry made it even more urgent to get moving. He turned to the wagon driver.

"You feeling better?"

"I think. My head's still hurting from getting knocked back."

"Just consider yourself lucky that hitting your head was the worst of your injuries. But enough talk, let's get moving."

The wagon started up, the horses trudging forward. One by one, the wagons began moving, until the entire procession was moving. If they kept moving, they should get to Taneth by dawn. Hopefully the Nomads' light cavalry wouldn't follow them far into the knights' territory.

OOC: I'm going to character control a bit and get Swims and Alaudis into this room.



Kurush, Road North of Taneth

The nomads approached from a distance, consulting their sights to the distinctive caravan ahead of them.

"Their lights are out. There. Take out the wheels with your spears. Break them. Throw torches to the wagons."

The tribesmen approached the group of wagons at a dazzling speed, every other nomad of the twenty holding a lit torch in his hand. This was set up to not give the appearance of a select amount of horseman. To some men, it would appear there were far more than the actual score of warriors. The torches' heads were curved in such a manner at their lit ends that the actual fire was within this crescent curve, shielded from the wind in front of it. It even guarded some of the light from passing through to the knights. Though there had been a few knights with night-eye and they could alert the group, Kurush thought it nearly impossible that the entire caravan could be alerted in time.

In the dry plains, torches and oil would work well. The other 10 warriors who were not carrying torches rode along with animal bladders filled to the brim with oil. Ten warriors took one side of the caravan, while the rest jolted to the other side. Kurush took the front of the caravan's right, echoing his commands in desert Yoku.

"Throw!"

The warriors began to take their turns, bladders of oil being thrown onto the wagons and splattering. Each warrior thereafter targeted the first ten wagons with his torch, doing his best to hurl the pocket-torch into the wagons, hopefully setting them aflame. After the weapons had been thrown, Kurush let out a mad cry and a blow of his horn. At the signal, the nomad warriors would begin to approach the other wagons, stabbing at the wheels and hinges in an effort to collapse them. While they intended to leave some knights alive to tell the tale, as it was required for the plan to work, they did not intend on letting the knights leave completely unharmed. He would finish his father's business.


Arethan, Servyn, Rihad



"Servyn, get Swims and Alaudis. The door."

Servyn made his way over to the door which had led to the room they had just entered. At first, he invited Swims and Alaudis to walk in. Hoping Lifting his hand over the knob, the door locked with a click. He did not want the others interfering on this conversation. If Swims or Alaudis made an objection, or even one of the others, Arethan may reconsider his decision. For now, this would be between himself, his companions, and their new acquaintance, who sought the same goal.

"Well, assassin, what are the first of these things?"

Arethan handed Rithe a smirk with his message. Servyn stood guard at the door, hoping the others wouldn't try to break in. Both Dunmer looked over at the acquaintance before them, waiting for a response.


Ruhk, Sentinel



"No matter how these peace talks will waiver in Rihad, they will lead to the same river: A river of blood. The scouts have already reported hired mercenaries along the borders of the Empire. It appears most of the same men who fought with the foreigners in the War of the Wolves will fight with them again, or leave themselves out of this altogether. No one is quick to side with us. Though the Cyrodillic's former Empire no longer holds together, strings are still attached. Our only allies here may be the other enemies of the former Cyrodillic Empire, even though they may be our own. I'd hate to do such a thing on private terms, therefore it must be taken to the High King and Empress themselves."

Ruhk paused, giving a quick stare over at Xerxes, making sure he knew he was just as much as part of the conversation as Roxanna was. He knew very well he would need his wealth for such an operation, one that would require money.

"While we may war with the Altmer later, in current time, they are the Imperial's enemies. The enemy of our enemy should be considered our friend for the time being. I feel that they could combat the Empire's magical blasphemy with their own. While we may be forced to fight the elves later, they should be used against the Cyrodils while they are available. A particular Altmeri captain- the same one who fought in the war of the wolves, has approached me on the subject of this war. I believe they will aid us once more, should you allow it, Empress."

With that, Ruhk nodded at the Empress and shot a glance over at Xerxes. He would now wait for either of them to respond to his proposal.

Road north of Taneth

"Sir, the nomad horseman are returning!"

Tarsius took a moment to think. They weren't equipped to face cavalry at night.

"Ready yourselves for my signal. Until then, we're going to keep moving." The Knight Commander put his helm on and drew his sword.

The horseman rode alongside the wagons, throwing oil and torches into the wagons. The knights scrambled to get themselves and their wounded out of the burning wagons. The caravan came to a stop. Some of the wounded had been healed , but others would have to sit this out. A few of the wounded could not be saved, consumed by the fire.

One of the horseman reached the final wagon, riding by to attack one of the front wheels. Tarsius shot a weak lightning bolt at the man, who was too far to be reached by sword, but too close to avoid a magic attack. It would also serve as another purpose, a signal for the men to attack. It would be a difficult fight, but they had no other choice.

HMLAS Mara's Hand, entering the port of Sentinel
Raphael Perevier, Wilfred du Lombard

The Mara's Hand was the pride of Anticlere's growing navy, the fruit of the city-state's alliance with the Yokudan Empire. Based somewhat on the galleys that the Anticlerians had used in the calm waters of the Iliac for centuries, the ship was in fact a very distinct design, boasting a taller broadside that made the ship much harder to board, a general increase in size and, most importantly, a gunpowder armament. While the broadsides sported only lighter-weight guns of a similar calibre to that of a handgun, useful mostly only against enemy crews in closer quarters, the rear and front of the ship boasted an armament that could make even a Cyrodiilic warship think twice before engaging. Four cannons were in the back, two on each side, with six more in the front - two forward-facing ones and two more on each side.

Coupled with the galleass' three masts, forty oars (with four rowers to an oar) and the two battlemages aboard - an undeniable advantage the Anticlerians had over their Raga peers in terms of naval warfare - the Mara's Hand was truly a formidable warship, quite possibly the most dangerous Bretic ship in the Iliac. Its purpose here in Sentinel, a melting pot of cultures, was as much to showcase Anticlere's newfound might and innovation as it was to deliver the two Anticlerian officials who were to attend the commemoration of Thassad III's death in Manfred's stead.

"The great captal is ever busy, hopefully the High King will understand." Raphael Perevier, the finely dressed nephew of Anticlere's archbishop of Mara and a constant in Anticlerian delegations everywhere around the Iliac, leaned on the rail of the broadside. His evidently bored eyes slipped from the iron jaws of the Mara's Hand to the imposing walls of Sentinel that towered straight ahead. Travel eventually got boring when you experienced it as often as Raphael did; thankfully, they would soon drop anchor.

Wilfred du Lombard yawned, apparently also rather weary of the journey. While he didn't have the luxury of as much free time as Raphael, between his responsibilities and recently-formed family, the young Anticlerian was generally not as fascinated by it as many of his countrymen were - especially when it involved ships. I much preffer to feel the ground firmy under me, thank you very much.

"I'm sure he will." The response to Raphael's half-worried remark eventually came. "The High King and our great captal are good friends and the Yokudan Emperor of all people should understand the difficulties of running a country. While Anticlere's borders might not stretch as far as the Yokudans'..."

"Our influence spreads further and further every day, yes. I'm well aware of this, grand marshall, it comes with being at the front of this expansion of ours."

Wilfred glared at the diplomat. Sometimes his attitude could truly get on his nerves, thankfully Raphael knew full well when not to let it show - he wouldn't have been Manfred's personal messenger of sorts otherwise, after all. The practice of heralds being messengers, rather popular in High Rock, had been abbandoned in Anticlere, replaced by more professional handpicked diplomats along the Nibenese way of thinking. While the Empire might have been waning - or dying, more accurately - that didn't mean there weren't lessons to learn from it, and while Anticlere had never been of much interest to the Imperial bureaucracy during the Imperial era of High Rock, officials passed through sometimes and the proximity of Daggerfall meant they were never too far, so Manfred was not without examples. That became apparent after the introduction of the Statute of Anticlere - formulated along Imperial lines, but chiefly Anticlerian in content.

"Yes, quite." The grand marshall yawned again. He felt quite eager to step off this ship and into the already quite familiar city of Sentinel, which he had visited on multiple occasions, with Manfred or on his own. "Tell me, is it true that negotiations have been opened with the King and the Moot of Solitude regarding establishment of an office of the Anticlerian Olive Oil Company in the city and the purchase of land for Anticlerian merchants and workers to settle along the coast of Skyrim? You more than anyone should know."

"Your information is quite correct, grand marshall. Though I haven't been to Solitude yet myself and the negotiations are anything but at their final stages, from what I've heard the signs are good. Our great captal is very interested in establishing the first Anticlerian colony outside of High Rock and the AOOC is of course more than eager to expand their operations." Raphael pulled at the sleeve of his white shirt slightly. "I'm no merchant, but mostly this seems to be a bid to secure a more neutral source of timber than the woods of Valenwood for our shipwrights and, of course, to profit by supplying it to our allies in Sentinel as well. A great opportunity for profit, any Anticlerian can see that." While the nobility of most other countries - especially those of High Rock - would've been appalled or disgusted by this discussion of commerce between two noble-born, this was nothing out of the ordinary and in fact encouraged in Anticlere.

"I figured as much." Wlfred nodded, his eyes wandering to the Imperial palace that dominated Sentinel's skyline. "Truly, the day when we establish our first colony will go down in the city's history."

"Indeed, grand marshall. Indeed."

Roxanna, Ruhk and Xerxes

"Ahhh I see.." Roxanna said, the excitement of the moment has vanished when the reality of their conversation hit. She preferred to not think of war's and battle's and especially elves and the Empire, she had seen enough of all three to last her a life time. A sudden fear came over her as Ruhk spoke, a river of blood was indeed coming, she could only pray that her husband would not be among those floating down the river, caught in it's flow. She hid her fear well behind a strong face and pretty smile, turning back to Ruhk with a stern face she began to speak.

"I'm not sure I have the authority to authorize the expenditure of Imperial fund's, especially on such a matter of military personal and dealing with the Aldmeri Dominion." she mulled the though over in her head. She had a few dealings with elves during her good will trip's to High Rock, specifically Anticlare but the presence of the Aldmeri Dominion in Daggerfall had a heavy effect on the region, an effect that many had regretted and feared and one that easily rubbed off the Empress. However, she realized that they did stand at a severe disadvantage with their taboos on Eastern magicka. However perverse and wrong it was, there was no doubt their enemies would use that to their advantage. It took her several moments before she spoke again, her eye's focusing on her beloved nephew Xerxes for a moment before it hit her.

"However..." her eye's lite up with idea. "My good nephew Xerxes has more than enough capital to make such an investment, and it would save our Empire the trouble of having to go through political negotiations with the Dominion, who's far too devious to just lend us the men and investment without wanting something more than just money." she moved carefully over to Xerxes and took him by the arm, the heat from the bath's starting to make the room swell with heat and steam.

The Bleeding Rock

Hasturbal faded in and out of consciousness briefly as the loss of blood took it's toll. The wound was now stitched and bandaged up roughly by a surgeon that had accompanied the group disguised as a warrior. The moments he was awake he was driven nearly insane by the feeling of the maggots squirming around in the wound, eating away any infection that could be brewing in the slice. When he finally came to there was a man standing over him, the figure was an all to familiar one and one he had hoped not to see right now. "Salaum Alaykum " the voice called out, cold and harsh like the Alki'r wind at night. "Don't just lay there, get up!" it called again, this time far harsher than the last.

"Salaum Alaykum" Hasturbal returned the greeting, forcing himself up from the ground to face the man who spoke to him. Standing about 5'8 was Hanno Al-Turuff, a man who's face was battered by both the desert and the throng of many battles. Not only was he a fearsome warrior of legend to the Barca, but he was also the Il-Khan, chief warlord of the Barca, and one he hoped he was done with after the War of the Wolves.

"You've managed to nearly throw this whole operation away in one foolish night Hasturbal. You'd be dead and this would have all been for nothing." he was sharp and blunt, though Hanno never was one to beat around the bush when he had criticism's to give. Compared to Hanno, Hasturbal's swath across this land looked like child's play, which is exactly why Bomilkar bestowed upon him the esteemed title and position of Il-Khan and not Hasturbal, something he regretted Bomilkar for, but there was little he could do until he proved himself a better warlord. Something that didn't seem too likely.

"Your son show's potential.." his tone was far lighter now as he peered off into the night. "...He was right to follow you, though so many warrior's this far into enemy territory will make it hard to continue this."

"I can handle, great Il-Khan, the plan is in motion and my son is further fueling the fire of distrust between the local tribes..."

"And what of the tribes? do they mistrust Taneth?" Hanno interupted, turning his cold, ivory eye's towards Hasturbal. "It doesn't matter, we have much to discuss."

Stanet Terentius; Meeting Room, Rihad Keep

Stanet watched in relief as Haroun the Elden Yokeda and Lysandra calmed the situation in the meeting room before blood had to be spilled. While he had been ready to fight the desert khan, he certainly had not relished the prospect of crossing blades with the formidable Redguard. While Stanet could not have been described as afraid of Bomilkar, for very little can frighten a man who has seen Mehrunes Dagon walk the surface of Tamriel, there were no favorable ways such a battle could end. And so, Stanet felt a surge of relief wash over him as Haroun laid his hand on Bomilkar's shoulder and brought an end to the prospect of the duel. However, a small amount of fury towards the Lord Regent still simmered in the Knight Commander, ready to flare up again in the event of another confrontation.

Sir Terentius agreed with Lysandra's assertion that the diplomatic meeting had ended; Bomilkar's threat to Nasser had effectively destroyed what little civility was previously present in the meeting. Stanet was much more in the mindset for fighting than diplomacy at this point, and there was no way he would be able to re-center himself for peaceful conversation once more. Then again, he suspected that most members of each side's delegation felt the same way; diplomacy would be impossible as a result. Terentius was pleased to see the Yokudan Empire's delegation filing out of the room. At least we don't have to maintain that ridiculous charade anymore.

However, on the way out, Bomilkar stopped in front of the Knight Commander to address him. Immediately Stanet's heart rate increased a bit as his fury threatened to surface, but he managed to keep himself under control, his natural-born Imperial diplomatic skills allowing him to hide his anger remarkably well.

"I look forward to our next encounter, Knight Commander. I assume you'd honor our fleeting good term's until we leave the city at first light tomorrow mourning?" said the khan with a bow, offering a handshake towards the end. Terentius took a breath before responding in order to better hold his temper.

"Not to be rude, but it would be best if you people didn't stay the night here at all. Our terms assumed that you wouldn't hold a sword to the throat of Rihad's representative and that you would at least maintain some semblance of civility and appropriate conduct. Unless there is some sort of pressing concern you all have here, you should head straight for the city's gates and go home right now. If you'd like, my men can send a message to Montblanc's estate to inform your men about the change of plans." said Terentius with a slight tone of arrogant bitterness, refusing to shake Bomilkar's hand.

The Delegation, The Meeting Room

Bomilkar retracted his hand, obviously the man would have nothing to do with him and was bothered by his mere presence. Perhaps something good did come of this he thought to himself with a smirk. There was little they could do, they hadn't the means to leave that night, having just arrived after a long trip, the men and horses weren't properly equipped or supplied for such a hasteful departure, yet at the same time with the sudden deterioration of negotiations it wasn't certain that Haroun would be safe here in the city. It wasn't a far stretch to think that if they stayed Terentius would attempt to have them all murdered in their sleep, a coward's way out an honorable fight, but it was a chance they had to take.

"I'm sorry, Knight Commander, but that's just not a possibility." Bomilkar's tone was far different than just a few moments ago, it was now smooth and calm while his mind tinkered out a way to avoid another confrontation. "Montblac and his staff are citizen's of the Yokudan Empire, we will not be able to leave until all Imperial staff and delegate's can be gathered and assembled at the estate and are prepared to be evacuated. This is not up to negotiation, we would prefer to avoid further issue, but we will protect our citizen's and lead them to safety. That will at least take until morning, if you believe you can force us out, then I suggest you make preparations, but I can assure you it will be costly."

With that Bomilkar gave another short bow before leaving the room with Haroun. As they breached the outer door's Bomilkar turned to Haroun, his eye's meeting those of his brother-in-law and lord "We must get you out of the city.." he spoke in Desert Yoku, continuing down the hall of the Keep before coming upon the main gates. "I'll oversee the evacuation of our citizen's and Montblac, but we've got to get you out of here tonight, less they attempt to kill you."

Rihad, Docks

Vorandaril continued to think about the upcoming conflict; he knew little of the enemy, other than that they did not use magic. Or rather, they did not use Tamrielic magic. Someone told him that some could create some sort of magic sword that could cut through anything. It was a frightening concept, even to a lich, and someone with such a weapon would be impossible to defeat in close combat. It would be imperative to kill such a foe before he or she got close. But he felt his powers were up to the challenge. But it would ultimately be up to his "allies" as to what he would be facing.

Then it suddenly dawned upon him; he had nearly forgotten about the mercenary meeting. Two centuries of isolation had dulled his sense of time; for all he knew he could have missed it. But if he wanted to fight alongside the knights against the Yokudans, he had to show up at Rihad Keep, discuss his terms of service and payment. Rising off the bench, he looked around, gathering his bearings (also something dulled by two centuries of isolation). With no luck, he slowly floated upwards; he'd probably draw attention to himself, but he needed to know where to go. Rising just the rooftops, Vorandaril looked across the city. Spotting the keep (which was much, much easier than on the ground), the lich descended to just above the ground an began hovering down the path towards the keep.

Hopefully I won't be late; I can see this meeting being awkward enough as it stands.

Aryon's Stepping Tower

When Aryon returned he was not alone, but with a Redguard girl, an apprentice of sorts, holding some folded clothes in her arms. She seemed fairly young and with a gentle demeanor. "If we're going to visit my friend in Rihad, we should be dressed and prepared rather well no? Ai, you brought your attire? Crane, come with me, Sultana will escort you Andrethi."

"This way, please." Her tan skin and dark hair blended well with the soft violet robes she wore. And her scent, of herbs and field flowers. Soft steps lead Andreti through the arcane assembled Dwemer behemoth. From the outside it looked as if a Dwemer ruin had rolled down the hill and snowballed more and more pieces along the way. Yet on the inside everything was spacious and orderly. Through it all he had felt as if Aryon was not telling him something. Perhaps it was this unsureness, coupled with both the curiosity of things to come and the feminine sway of Sultana's walk in front of him. Perhaps it was darker ancestral desires. Whatever the case, Andrethi grasped Sultana by her shoulders spinning her around and pressing her to the wall. Seducing eyes in part by the arcane in part by not interrogated her for the information he wanted. In her complete trance she whispered to him words softly, the gaze in her eyes sleepy, her breath lazy, her body almost limp, relying on his firm grasp to stand up.



OOC: I doubt i'll post tomorrow, heads up. Is anybody uber keen and capable and willing to take more of a leadership role all Templar/Hospitaller/Teutonic for the Crusader faction?

Swims-in-Shadows; Safehouse, Rihad

Swims-in-Shadows listened in fascination to the Imperial explain how the odd crystal ball was capable of facilitating communication over such a great distance. He was especially curious about how the device also worked based on vibrations channeled through it. Like a much weaker version of the gauntlet. Hmm... I wonder if I could get an enchanter to add that communication function the gauntlet so I could use it with the crystal spheres...

"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." finished the man after an awkwardly long pause. Swims gladly accepted the small crystal ball from the Imperial and placed it in one of his belt pouches, intending to study it later, although it was certainly odd that the man had just given up what might have been his only way to communicate with his ship's crew.

"Thank you, sir." said Swims with genuine gratitude, the first he had felt in a while. This was a most interesting gift, and it might prove to be useful later on.

Soon, Servyn came over and invited Swims and Alaudis into another room with himself, Arethan, and the new Dunmer, Rithe.

"I'll speak to you later." said Swims to the Imperial. "For now, I have business with my companions." With that, the Argonian followed Servyn into the other room, carefully watching Rithe in case of any treachery on the assassin's part.

"Well, assassin, what are the first of these things?" asked Arethan to Rithe. Obviously, Swims had missed a portion of the conversation, but he didn't much care. The mission to hunt down Serosi meant little to Swims beyond the strictly monetary, and whatever other reasons people had for joining in on the quest were inconsequential to the Argonian bandit.

Rihad Council
Lysandra

The battlemage's face turned into a sort of a grimace as soon as the Yokudan delegation left the room, her expression almost painful. Finally the idiots leave. Took them long enough, I suppose only these heathens would look upon sword swinging and open threats as viable diplomatic actions. The hasty departure was pleasing not merely because she had grown a bit impatient with acting all nice and diplomatic in front of the Raga, but also because it was swift and clean, no blood spilled, no insults traded. It didn't seem like they had noticed the means she used to get rid of them faster. Likely thrown off by being complete savages when it comes to magick, even the slightest resonance from a battlemage must be enough to obscure from them the feeling of anything more subtle than a fire blast to the face.

Despite managing to avert bloodshed and keeping herself presentable through the whole meeting - unlike Stanet, who wasted no time in making an arch-enemy - Lysandra was dissatisfied with how she'd handled the meeting, as could be quite obviously seen from the irritation evident on her face after the initial strange look passed. A crude way to conclude this comedy, anywhere in the Niben it would've been a diplomatic disaster. The fact the heathens can barely tell illusion from alteration shouldn't make me forget. Her eyes dimmed slightly as she ran her thumb along the tail of the dragon.

Still chastising herself silently, the Nibenese approached Terentius. A very slight ripple could still be felt in the magick around her; she had always been very quick to disturb the energies from Aetherius around her and they never calmed quickly, the reason why Lysandra recieved battlemage training in the Legion - at an early age, with a looser control over her spellcasting than she had now, the resonances she caused while using the basic healing spells she'd learned growing up among the priests of Mara were always disproportionately large compared to the strength of the spell she used. When a more skilled mage noticed that, it was decided she was worth a try and it turned out to be a correct decision - by now the battlemage was very potent in the schools of alteration and illusion.

"Well, Knight Commander," Now that the diplomacy was done with, her voice was back to normal, including that slightest hint of mocking that always seemed to linger somewhere far back, never directed at anyone in particular - merely an expression of her disdain for the world in general. "That did not go well, unsurprisingly. I don't think it will be long now before a formal declaration of war."

Rithe, Rihad

Rithe watched as Arethan sent Servyn to go and gather the rest of his companions, then they walked into one of the elaborate yet fanatically decorated side rooms of the house. Servyn shut the door behind them, the polished brass handled clicked as Servyn slid the dead bolt into position. Arethan looked up at Rithe with a smirk,

"Well, assassin, what are the first of these things?"

Rithe replied in a relaxed and casual tone, "First I am curious as to what the source of that voice was....the one that came from your bag."


OOC: Sorry for the short post.

Stanet Terentius, Rihad

Terentius listened to Bomilkar as he explained the impossibility of leaving Rihad before the next morning, feeling no need to respond. He believed the desert khan, as the Redguard had no reason to lie about such a matter. Anyone pathetic enough to invent fake reasons to stay a night surely would not have made it to the hotheaded Redguard's station in life, and so Terentius believed the man despite his lingering resentment. Whatever. They can't manage to leave by the end of the day. It would be petty to try and harm them for that, not to mention the effect it would have on our relations with the independent cities. Stanet payed no more attention to the Lord Regent as he left the meeting room. With a sigh, he turned to face the few people still inside the room.

Stanet noticed Lysandra approaching him from across the room. He was only a journeyman of Restoration with no other magical training, but Terentius could definitely feel the battlemage's magical aura as she approached. In his previous distracted emotional state, he hadn't noticed whatever subtle magic she was using, but now that the situation had calmed, he felt the resonance of her magicka as it slowly calmed around her. Damn, she must be powerful. I'm glad the enemy doesn't have anyone like her.

"Well, Knight Commander, that did not go well, unsurprisingly. I don't think it will be long now before a formal declaration of war." said the battlemage in a vaguely mocking tone. Stanet wasn't sure what to make of her tone of voice, but he figured that whatever she was feeling was minor enough that he wouldn't need to ask about it.

"Actually," he replied "I don't think it could have gone much better." He dismissed the two knights he had called into the meeting room earlier, and, waiting until they were gone and he and Lysandra were alone, he continued. "The entire point was to provoke them. Why do you think I was acting like such an ass? But that fool Bomilkar played into our hands much better than I had hoped. I got to make a show of defending that old heathen Nasser, which will certainly endear the Forebear nobles to us, and hopefully the rest of the independent cities too. And now they look like the imperialist aggressors, not us." He sighed contentedly, and continued.

"Surely you don't believe we all came up here with thousands of knights so that we could occupy three minor cities in southern Hammefell? War has been our goal this whole time, and this meeting will hopefully start it without us having to stir up the hornet's nest here." At this point, Terentius began to head back towards his seat.

"There have been mercenaries waiting in the keep all morning for an appointment to be hired. I'll be seeing them momentarily. You're welcome to stay and help with the process, or you may leave if you other business to attend to, Lady Lysadra."

Xerxes, Sentinel

Xerxes laughed as his aunt grabbed his arm, giving her a half hug before jokingly brushing her off. It was a idea he had to admit, and Xerxes certainly didn't mind the idea of having a company of Altmeri mercenaries answering directly to him. One thing still confused him though and it was about that that the Prince spoke as he turned to Ruhk.

"Why it is no doubt advantageous to our cause to have allies and soldier - doubly so if they happen to be skilled mages and fighters with experience - it is not all that pressing of a matter. The Empire has been victorious so far in every encounter it has been in with little to no outside help, so why the now do you feel that it is so important to hire these particular mercenaries? And clearly you think it important if you're going to come straight to my aunt - whose only the second most powerful person in Hammerfall - about it.

Here Xerxes paused for a second to take a breath and wipe some small beads of sweat off of his while thinking over the rest of his little speech.

"I'm not saying I won't help, far from it. I just want to know why you think it is so important that we hire this particular company of mercenaries. And also, how does this relate to the Sword of A'tor, which I believe you said was the reason this talk required such secrecy in the first place?"

Rihad Council
Lysandra

"Oh yes, that was not what I intended to imply. I'm well aware that the order intends to go to war with these heathens one way or the other." Lysandra nodded, smiling slightly. "That is the very reason I am here, to find the more... undesired elements in the ranks of our knights to keep them reliable as the war progresses. Not to have a pleasant talk with the 'high king' or his delegation." Something about her implied Stanet didn't want to find out what happened to these 'elements' once she found them. Behind closed doors, the battlemage could get quite creative with her magick.

"To the Knight Commander, as a military man, this was of course a roaring success; doubtless, the Divine Crusader and the chaptermasters will see it that way too. But to me as a diplomat it was quite the failure, even if the intended goal was achieved..." The Nibenese lingered for a bit, glancing at the door, before continuing. "And I must admit being quite disappointed. I did not expect much from most of those heathens to begin with, but Abu Nakute? The famous author?" Her smile turned into a smirk. "If that is the finest diplomat in the Yokudan 'Empire' then it's a small wonder it has spent most of its short existence at war, particularly if the High King insists on bringing this Bomilkar along to every diplomatic meeting as well. I misjudged, when we met at the city gates I had thought the khan the most dangerous of this delegation bar the High King himself. Neither delivered."

Ignoring seems to be the order of the day in the heathen diplomatic circles. Whatever they don't like to hear, they refuse to hear; I suppose that'd account for the amount of bloodshed between them and for the reason they settled in Hammerfell. Given the amount of sticking their heads into the sand they do, living in the middle of an infertile hellhole of a desert comes in handy.

"But, of course, the Knight Commander is not interested in my comments on the finer points of this 'meeting', if it can be called such. I shall take my leave and allow you to attend to these mercenaries; the military is not my duty and I have more pressing matters to attend that impact directly the task given by the high command. Grace of Mara, Commander." With that, Lysandra made a small bow - more of a nod - and, sweeping back whatever hair that had fallen over her face, left the room in much the same manner that she entered, her cloak fluttering slightly as she walked out, silently shutting the door behind herself.

Now to find this new friend of mine, Aman Avidius... With luck, he'll prove as useful as I hope he is.

ooc; Quick post to get things moving for myself. Limited time.

IC:
Rihad

The few figures in travel worn cloaks calmly paced their horses out through the streets of Rihad, one particularly contemplative. The Knights had been quick to insult, quick to anger. It was no secret they had an agenda of war, a knightly order bound in religion would never compromise with the Yokudan Empire. It defeated their progress.

Even a man of colossal power can not prevent the inevitable. The Knights of the Nine are a serpent which has sunk its venemous fangs so far into the far eastern cities that only total and pure domination could erase it. Perhaps the beast within me wanted this...there will be no compromise. My enemy will be cut down swiftly and without mercy. If man stands in front of me he shall be cut down, if elf stands in front of me he shall be cut down. If the Gods themselves stand in my way, they shall be cut down. I am death, and all others shall make-way.

The King made his way to Riverview.

Montblac's Estate

The city seemed far quieter now that night began settling in over the busy port city of Rihad. The street's below Montblac's estate were lighted with the torch's of the night patrol's of guards as they wandered up and down the street's and back and forth between the ally ways between the buildings and stall's that sprung up from narrow city street's. Atop the roofs stood archers, ever watchful of the fortress that Montblac's estate had been turned into under Bomilkar's watch. Torch light across the roof of the estate made it a glowing beacon for all those looking for it. Word had been sent across the city that all those wishing to escape the clutch's of both the impending war and oppression of the Knight's could meet at the estate and join the remains of the procession to Sentinel. The estate would be host to at least a hundred men and women with their families looking to escape, most being Crown's of political nature as well as Montblac's servants and assistance. Bomilkar's green eye's peered down the street as the last of the drove of people entered the estate grounds and the door was bared and shut, everyone was on edge, especially Bomilkar who suspected they wouldn't leave so easily when the dawn came.

Haroun, however, had left the city over an hour ago, giving at least some peace of mind to the Khan who could rest easier knowing his sisters husband was on his way to safety. "That was a marvelous disaster, Great Khan." Crixus spoke, the man's old and sagelike figure appearing out of the darkness to the side of the Khan.

"Your temper did not disappoint, though I wish these negotiation's would have gone a little more...tactful." his voice cracked and rasped followed by a chuckle. Bomilkar remained silent, his mind dwelled only on the future now, the past was done and gone, and he had a war to look towards. "I admit, I too was provoked into petty insult and squabble by Terentius. His whole family is a disgrace to Cyrodill..."

"Do you have a point, Crixus Nakute of Cyrodill?" Bomilkar snapped, the distrust of the man vibrated in his voice. "I've no time to speak of the Knight Commander nor his provactions. I only care about sending him to the Far Shores."

Crixus stopped for a moment, the Khan's temper and distrust was legendary. He could not blame the man, Crixus as from Cyrodill, it was his birth place, his home, and it would be a lie to say that he didn't miss it. "I'm going to die in a land foreign to me, exiled from the place of my birth for reason's I can't control." he started, pain felt words spewed from his lips with a hint of dieing dignity. "The Knight Commander can't be allowed to stay, you must understand we're not all like those knights down there and in Rihad's keep. We used to be proud to consider ourselves members and citizen's of the Empire, and now, we Cyrodillian's are nothing now. Some reduced to bands of religious bandit's like the Nine, and..." he paused, catching his breath as he moved to the edge of the roof's guard rails. The cool wind of the coming night brushed against his aged face.

"Sometimes it take's a conqueror, to be a liberator...and I can't let my people go down in this era as marauders and heathens. The Elden Yokeda must cast them out, and I must do my part before my time come's to take the journey to the Far Shores."

"What is it you propose then?" Bomilkar asked, moving to face Crixus as he leaned against the rails. "They won't leave the city, and we can't hope to have a good siege of this city. Their navy is capable, their soldiers respectable warriors...to take Rihad will be necessary, but it will break us."

A soft smile graced Crixus's bearded face. "Leave tomorrow with your mind at ease Khan, I shall stay, and do my part."

Rihad, Montblanc's estate

"Bomlikar No-Shira, we'll have Shagun operating in the city by the end of the week. I have contacts all over. I hate having to abandon this estate, I have been a Rihad citizen for a year...but my work here is not done. What with all the refugees and paperwork being sent up to the Rihad keep I have my hands somewhat tied...but we already have intelligence concerning foreign sell swords throwing their lot in to the highest bidder. Word is they been waiting since negotiations. I'll be sending reports to Riverview." the calm voice of Andre Montblanc, muffled through his puffs of fine cigar echoed throughout his office. He looked at stacks of papers in his desk, release forms for local hands that have been hired and property he released into the custody of other Forebear families within the city.

He did not relish the thought of his future, it'd be filled with danger, and for being the famous hero that he was...he hated doing work. He enjoyed monitoring politics, and living into a relatively lavish estate. Now all that was gone, he'd return to being an active agent within the Empire's secret police. Never the less, his mission was of extreme importance.

-------------------------------------------------
Road to Riverview

The cheap nag was steered carefully by its rider, the beast was already lathered in sweat as the four riders rode passed Taneth, far on its outskirts. The desert night was a deep contrast from its daytime heat, almost freezing in its temperature. The moon betrayed the men as they traveled in silence, the sounds of the wilderness being their only companion.

The Elden Yokeda, like always was deep in retrospective thought.

His head rested onto the bare and toned stomach of a beautiful woman, his wife. Her body's secrets resting beneath a silken sheet. He stared at the ceiling, murals of his people's history accenting it beautifully. In a week he would travel to the most powerful alliance resisting integration into the Yokudan Empire. His wife's hands would run through his hair when he was deep in thought, her smile a reaction to his own. His emerald green eyes looked up towards his woman, "...They will resist." it was all he said, matter of a fact. He too lay bare of any clothing, his body heavily tattooed in the tradition of his people, sleeping soundly on his belly was his infant daughter, sharing the same hair as her father.

He loved his daughter, his wife more than anything. But in the words of his father.

Children were hostages to fate.

The King would break the silence, "Tomorrow is the anniversary of my father's death. At Riverview we'll trade horses and hopefully reach Sentinel within time for the festivities, I would ask you to display your skill, Amaru. I trust you have not forgotten how Walled-Consequence or the Bone-shaver, children love its performance on fruit. Andromeda would find it most interesting."

Anything to get his mind off of the horrors he would commit within weeks, the Elden Yokeda would commit whole heartedly to this war, and would show no quarter to the infidels who invaded his country.

OOC: not a very good post but just trying to get him set up for the meeting.

Athanden, Rihad

The stool creaked as Athanden stood and slid it back under the counter, he shrugged his shoulders to adjust the polished ebony pauldrons that were strapped to them.Time to get out of here before they end up getting drunk. Thought Athanden as he placed his fingers on his lips and then let out a sharp whistle that rang through the tavern. Each of his eight guards quickly payed for their drinks and began filing out of the tavern and into the street, Aryn walked over to Athanden,

"Where to now?"

"The meeting should be about over by now, we head for the keep." Replied Athanden as he and Aryn walked out into the cobblestone street, it was the late afternoon and the harsh sun now cast long shadows on the buildings. All of the armored guards once again took their positions around Athanden and Aryn as they began to walk down the street towards the keep.

A few minutes later they walked under a large archway and onto the long bridge that connected the keep with the city. After walking down the extremely long bridge they found themselves in the courtyard of the keep, there next to one of the entrances stood a few men that seemed as if they had been waiting there all day.

Ahh looks like I might have a bit of competition. Thought Athanden as he approached the small group of men.

"I presume that you are also waiting on an audience with the Knight Commander?" asked Athanden, his gravelly voice echoing off the stone walls of the courtyard.

Rihad, Keep

At last, Vorandaril arrived at the keep. Floating across the bridge up to the gates, he saw other individuals waiting. Good, it looks like I'm not late. He didn't pay too much attention to the others, probably representatives of larger groups. It didn't matter they were of no concern to him. He was no threat to their getting a mercenary contract, and they were no threat to what he wanted. And Vorandaril didn't mind waiting for everyone else to go first, as a few hours or even a few days were nothing to him. He said nothing, as there was nothing to be said.

Although he sought mercenary employment with the Knights, he didn't want any money; for one of his power and knowledge, that was easy to come by. What he wanted was something so much more; knowledge. He knew that even with his talents, it was only a matter of time before his home Nayamdar was raided again, for whatever reason. While he could form powerful magical barriers, they required concentration and would eventually dissipate. Vorandaril desired the knowledge to create a more permanent barrier, to keep people out of Nayamdar. If the Knights won but found out about his lichdom, they'd be too busy trying to rule a province to bother trying to break the seals to kill a lich that isn't even a threat to them. And if the Yokudans won, they'd still lack the means to destroy such a barrier.

It was imperative that if he wanted to live through this that he take into account every possibility and act on them accordingly. He didn't spend two centuries in a ruin just to die in a local war.