Arethan, Servyn; Rihad

Serosi...

Arethan took his look at the figure, staring at him with a deep intensiveness. He had been ready for the being to approach him; however, it now seemed that the figure meant no harm to the group. Perhaps this was a good decision, considering Arethan had been hunted by men and mer for the last twenty years, along with reality proving that none of them had been successful. One had not found him in quite some time, therefore he considered the possibility of this new hooded Dunmer being there to kill him a very high one. Servyn took his own glance at the figure, being one of investigation rather than Arethan's expression of intimidation. The younger Dunmer began to sort out his own thoughts.

No doubt he's Tong or Brotherhood...at least affiliated with them. Looks like a Brotherhood one to me.

It was now apparent that the figure had no intent of harming them, as he put his hands back down. One could now see a cold grin latched onto their new acquaintances face in the sunlight.

"Arethan..." Servyn let out in a seemingly curious tone.

"What, Servyn. What?"

"Why is it that everyone we meet always seems to be trying to kill us first?"

Arethan took a glance over at Swims, remembering the night of the Gottshaw Inn where they had fought Swims with the strange Nord, Almerion. They hadn't seen the man since. All Arethan remembered was the cold ebony arm, holding the stone which glittered in the moonlight.

Haven't seen the Nord in ages...strangest guy I ever laid eyes on, that is, excluding the lizard bastard in front of me. Who says our little robed doll here isn't as nuts as the other two?

Servyn glanced back at Alaudis, who he thought would be distraught over the events.

I guess Swims isn't that bad. Just a little psycho. He does his job. The Breton actually has some decent sense, though he's too innocent to know anything...yet.

Servyn's thoughts were immediately interrupted as Arethan spoke up in response to the assassin.

"You know of Serosi? The one who holds the blackened Azura's Star?"

Rithe flashed back to the days when he was still part of the Morag Tong. Serosi was a common name back then, he had met him on a few occasions. Serosi was one hell of an assassin. He slowly walked towards the group, feeling since the tension was slightly less he could safely approach them. Rithe paused a moment before he spoke, "I knew him once, when we were both brothers in the Tong. However I no longer serve them, or any mortal for that matter." his grin had disappeared. He looked around, the streets were beginning to fill with peasants. "I think it is best if we move our conversation away from the many ears that would steal the words we share."

Cyric and Morgana ; Rihad

Cyric led his twin deeper into the city, obviously following a specific route, though he consulted no map. It was an interesting experience, passing through the busy streets of Rihad. Stores lined the streets, their awnings providing a welcome respite from the relentless sun. The smells of a dozen, and more, spices assaulted their senses, the sweet aromas of sizzling dates, smoked meats and freshly baked sweetrolls, topped with a variety of colored creams, was mouthwatering. It took all Morgana's discipline not to sample at least one of the treats offered so invitingly to them! At last, the duo arrived at a wide open plaza, a brilliant fountain chirping merrily at the center. Cyric turned to Morgana then, and said

"Here we are, my man said he'd meet me near here. He's booked us rooms over at that Inn" But at that moment, almost as though it heard him, the inn shook mightily as a long thin crack ran along it's length, causing a hooded man to leap down from the inn's roof. When Cyric looked at Morgana, he noticed she had raised her eyebrows in disbelief and said,

"I'm so glad you take our safety into utmost concern, dear brother"

"Be nice" Cyric said defensively, "How was going to know that it'd start shaking the moment you looked at it funny." But Morgana wasn't listening, she had already disappeared into the crowd, presumably, Cyric thought, towards the inn. 'Oh bother...' Cyric thought with a sinking feeling, Morgana could be awful when she was mad and realizing the possible implications, he rushed towards the inn.

The scene that greeted Cyric at the inn's entrance was not what he expected. Five decidedly shady individuals were huddled together and just by looking at the group, he felt a shiver run down his spine. Whoever they were, they weren't good news. All thoughts of his Morgana forgotten, and against his better judgement, he decided to eavesdrop upon the group. Before that though, he whispered an unintelligible arcane phrase and made a odd gesture, the palm of his hand glowed faintly blue, a tingling sensation running all along his body. It was a Charm of Aversion, a potentially taxing spell that would subtly urge most onlookers to ignore Cyric's presence as long as no one broke his concentration or cut him off from his supply of magicka, but he was confident no one would do that. Feeling arguably safer, he edged closer towards the group and listened.

Week 1

Taneth

Ai Direnni

The Elven curved blade whispered through the air with each swirl and movement. Ai's mind was racing to that day, when the Bretic troops stormed her home forcing her to flee. Vengeance is a lot like love. It becomes a burning obsession, a pain you can not have enough of, something you must fulfill. Everything and anything and she'd have to wait and bide her time anxiously like a bride for her wedding night. For now the home she had been given was luxurious enough. The cold marble flooring under her feet for some reason reminded her of Harena and how she helped her escape through the desert from the mad Queen's killers. In the morning silence she could even hear the droplets of sweat hitting the floor even through her heavy breathing. She was playing the scenario in her head as every morning, she had just broken through the guards protecting Elysana and now she was ready to finish her off.

"You were always so arrogant, so sure and proud of yourself. But you were always nothing but second rate aspiring to be true nobility..." And with that a moment of silence past before the slice of the air where Elysana's throat would be. With that she wrapped herself in soft white linen which clung to her bare skin.

OOC: IB will post tomorrow.

Rihad

"Cyrodiilic knights."

"Mmm, the very same that fought in the War of the Last Wolves....these are the menace plaguing Rihad."

The two Vanguard of the King's escort steered their horses onward, toward Lysandra. The Senior of the two clicked his tongue twice and the other halted his steed, while he urged his own on. The woman ahead looked to be no knight, but the tattoo on her face and the demeanor in which she carried herself was wild enough. The masked Vanguard kept his composure, but was both perplexed and angered at the Nibenese woman's appearance. Did she claim to speak for the Redguard people of Rihad, Taneth, and Roseguard?

How have the elders of these cities allowed themselves to be insulted in such a manner.

Halting his horse a few meters from Lysendra, he mustered his best Cyrodiilic, he would not dishonor the King by disrespecting a potentially important dignitary during so sensitive a time.

"Cool winds to you Cyrodiil," he unrolled a scroll with fine writing and the stamp of both Rihad and the Yokudan Empire marking its center. " the Elden Yokeda has come requesting council with the Leadership of the region, as agreed a month prior to our current day. We ask that you stand aside so that we may commune with the city's delegation." he said so although he understood the gesture he believed the Knights of the Nine were attempting to make. He would not allow them to think the Ra Gada were comfortable with their presence in these lands.

Behind his porcelain mask were cold eyes, staring fiercely at the woman. Something about her stirred uneasiness within his stomach.

Justaine Dalomax & Hvitir Frost-Marrow - Offshore, Rihad Bay Docks



"Captain! Captain! I know you said not to disturb you, but this is important!"


Justaine chuckled quietly and shook his head, thumping his mug against the table harshly. He'd said his piece anyways. Now it would be up to Hvitir how to take the news. Rising up to his feet, he moved around the chair upon which his drinking companion sat... offering an affectionate pat on the shoulder as he went by.

"I have only told you my secret because I trust you... and because I have nothing left to lose. You are Captain over your own ship, now. You have experienced the burdens of authority and responsibility. You know the weight of another man's life resting in your hands. If you are my enemy... and I cannot trust you... then my mission is already doomed to failure. I accept what fate may come of this. However, you must make a decision."

As he disappeared behind her, Hvitir found herself silently listening to the echo of his boots against the wooden floor.

He was walking away from her again.


The difference, this time, was that she was a grown woman now... and with a command of her own, no less. Justaine had acknowledged her experience, and given her the choice of whether or not she wanted to be left behind again. For a moment, she thought back to the day she had arrived in Evermor... only to discover that Justaine and Deselle had mysteriously vanished under the cover of night. She remembered that empty pit in her stomach, how it felt to stand there alone, and physically trembled with despair.

And then, a flash of inspiration.


Rising up from her seat, Hvitir only needed five steps across the floor to bring her into line with Justaine.

"Fine, then... I'll help you find it. But there are going to be a few rules, first. Number one... from now on, we meet in my cabin. This place is disgusting! When is the last time you swept the floor in here? Or changed the bedding? Or wiped off the dust? You really are a complete slob! Secondly, if you ever grope me and try to slobber all over my face like that again in front of the crew... I'm going to take off my ring and maul you to death."

Justaine chuckled under his breath and shook his head, gesturing towards the door. "Right, then... what about if I grope you and do all my slobbering in private?"

Rolling her shoulder, Hvitir collected her things from the table and hefted Cloudcleaver over her shoulder with a single hand. "More acceptable. Or... less unacceptable... depending on how you care to look at it. So, then... shall we go see what is so urgent? I would hate to think the both of us and our respective ships and crews should perish because we were too busy with inane flirtations."

Justaine snorted and shook his head. "Inane? There's nothing inane about flirtation, my poor... dear girl. No wonder you've been reduced to vagabonds such as myself! We should, however, go and make an appearance. As for what has them so upset, I believe I already have the answer to that. You see... I was expecting a parcel to be delivered. No doubt, it has arrived early... much like myself. The parcel is labeled urgent... but there is no need for great concern. It is merely a book."

Hvitir blinked. "A book? What sort of a book?"

To this, Justaine grinned fiendishly. "It is a book of names. I have been told that a few of these names have been heard here, in Hammerfell, over the course of the last few weeks. If this is true... then I'm going to find them. They will be instrumental in the task ahead..."

Outskirts of Rihad
Lysandra

Two Raga warriors approached Lysandra, one of them stopping some ways back and the other riding up to her. The battlemage didn't much mind the fact she had to look up at this militant messenger, instead focusing on the fact he bore no weapon despite being clad in quality armour. She had heard tales of the fearsome Yokudan war magic and conjuring swords made of one's own soul; apparently it was an Ansei that stood before her. In a battlefield, that might've concerned her, yet here it meant little. Still, it would be better to tread a bit more carefully.

"Cool winds to you Cyrodiil, the Elden Yokeda has come requesting council with the Leadership of the region, as agreed a month prior to our current day. We ask that you stand aside so that we may commune with the city's delegation." The presumed Ansei spoke in a rather accented Cyrodiilic, presenting a document stamped by both Rihadese and Yokudan officials.

"May the River be graceful, Ra Gada." To start with a greeting related to the knights or the Nine Divines would have been a tactical mistake, therefore Lysandra chose to go for something more neutral; perhaps the Ansei would not like the Nibenese culture seen in that greeting, but it displayed that she wasn't trying to offend him. A show of goodwill sometimes helped. Acting along the same vein, the battlemage also spoke a bit slower and clearer than she usually did, since the man before her didn't seem to be completely fluent in Cyrodiilic. There was always the chance he'd mistake it as mocking him, but nothing about Lysandra seemed to suggest that intention at the moment.

He's not pleased to see me and the other knights. Unwelcome, but expected; perhaps it would've been better to bring a more ambiguous delegation, but that might've meant involving the Forebears, and our heathens would for sure botch this. Untactful barbarians to a man, this race, and too stubborn to admit their mistakes.

"I have, of course, been informed of the council between our leaders. The king of Rihad awaits the arrival of the High King, I will instruct these men to move aside at once so that your sovereign can proceed inside the city and would be honoured if I was allowed to escort your delegation personally to the court of Rihad." Lysandra stopped, turning to the knights standing behind her and motioning for them to move to the side of the road. So far, she had been wary of saying anything that would mark her clearly as one of the knights; her dress did not denote her as such, at least beyond the clasp of her cloak - which was easy to mistake for something else entirely - and the pendant she wore, which wasn't actually much of a sign of the knights, merely signifying her belonging to the Nibenese people and giving some significance to Mara. All that was left was for her to act the part and perhaps the hostility of this delegation towards her would decrease slightly.

"The streets of the city are winding and confusing for one unaccustomed to them and I'm sure the High King wishes to meet with the sovereign of Rihad as soon as possible. Delays rarely benefit the great rulers of this world."

Outskirts of Rihad

Bomilkar continued forward, shadowing the caravan as they passed through Chougand and finally approached the lumbering city wall's of Rihad. Not long before the city had came into sight a messenger came up to the group of thirty mounted http://i77.photobucket.com/albums/j76/Titus-lord/Immortal%20Blood%20Timeline/BullWarriors.jpg, all dressed in tribal garb, carrying spears upon their back, falcata at their hips and shields on their arms. The runner had been right on the dot, Rihad's suburbs began to rise as the hills began to fade into the plains and farmlands before the city; they were finally at their destination. Before the train of carriages Bomilkar could see several armored knights waiting for them, a welcoming party no doubt on the behalf of the local Knights of the Nine chapter.

"You see?" Bomilkar spoke to Amaru, "Foreigner's speaking for the city court, and not a single city noble in sight." the words curled with disgust as they crept from his lips and into the seaward wind. The group of warriors came to a halt a good ways away from the meeting, not wanting their presence to be felt directly upon the meeting. Slowly a sort of tension began to fill the air around them as whispers of what might happen circulated amongst the group as it became quite evident the rest of these warriors felt the same sentiments as their Khan. Better run them through now and save ourselves the trouble of doing it later he thought. His hand now rested on ornate elven falcata at his side, tracing the intricate designs of the weapon with his thumb before spurring his camel forward and ordering the group to hold.

"Come with me." he directed Amaru.

It wasn't long before he arrived next to the Ansei and what appeared to be a Battlemage as they exchanged greetings. He had seen these warriors before, Battlemages were often employed in Valenwood during the war with Summerset as basic mobile weapons of mass destruction. Imperial Battlemages trained for war were near unstoppable, able to lay waste to forests and destroy entire battalions of men by manipulating the energy that flowed through Magnus and the other holes in this world; a terrifying sight that had even unnerved the great Khan. Despite their power, they were but men and women and their power was, thank the God's, diminishable over time and could be felled by a carefully aimed arrow or sword blow just as any other mortal.

"You honor us with your hospitality." Bomilkar spoke, his Cyrodillic a bit rough but far better than most would expect from a 'heathen'. "Our men require water, food and rest. I assume the King will be glad to accommodate our needs and allow us time to properly prepare before our appointed meeting." Bomilkar struggled slightly to mesh the worlds together properly but achieved the task with merit. The Legion had drilled in their language for sake of command and instruction during his time in the auxiliary and finally found it worth something other than merely mocking his commanders.

Outside Talon's Port Inn, Rihad

After a brief exchange with Arethan, the strange Dunmer with the rune-covered Dark Brotherhood armor approached the group. Swims-in-Shadows immediately stepped back, as the new Dunmer's assurances of peace were unconvincing. This assassin was grossly overstepping his boundaries; Swims didn't trust him in the slightest, and he doubted the other members of the group did either. While his claim to be pursuing Serosi certainly was uncharacteristic of someone who might be hunting either Swims or Arethan, he was still extremely suspicious. You're not here to kill us, you say? That's exactly what most assassins would say if they were trapped in an alleyway with no room to maneuver while severely outnumbered. Still, if this man knew about Serosi, he was worth at least listening to, even if he didn't seem trustworthy.

"I knew him once, when we were both brothers in the Tong. However I no longer serve them, or any mortal for that matter. I think it is best if we move our conversation away from the many ears that would steal the words we share." said the Dunmer. Well, that certainly explains how he knows about Serosi. Although what does he mean he doesn't serve any mortal? Swims-in-Shadows' distrust was losing ground to his curiosity. As dangerous as the hooded man seemed, he might have valuable knowledge about their target, and, if he was telling the truth about hunting Serosi, he could likely provide excellent aid; his Daedric and Ebony equipment was a sight to behold, and his skill at illusion seemed to be formidable.

"Yes, let's take this conversation elsewhere." replied Swims-in-Shadows after a pause. "Mostly because I want to get out of here before anyone comes to investigate the tremor." He glanced over at the fresh crack in the inn's wall.

"I certainly don't want to pay for that, and I definitely don't want any of these Redguard fools to know how I did it. So let's go." The Argonian paused for a moment as he looked over the stranger and decided he still didn't trust him. "You lead. And don't make any sudden moves." As he said this, he scanned the crowd, noticing nothing suspicious. Swims was no expert at magic, and he did not suspect that one of the members of the mass of humanity was using magic to avoid detection.

Rithe, Rihad

Rithe watched as the Argonian backed away, cautiously eying him. Winning this ones trust will be a challenge. The rather jumpy and paranoid Argonian then replied to Rithe. "Yes, let's take this conversation elsewhere. Mostly because I want to get out of here before anyone comes to investigate the tremor. I certainly don't want to pay for that, and I definitely don't want any of these Redguard fools to know how I did it. So let's go." There was a short pause as the Argonian looked at Rithe suspiciously "You lead. And don't make any sudden moves."

Rithe grinned, "Gladly, I know of a safe place we may speak, follow me."

Week 1

Corten Mountains

They were many, http://attachments.conceptart.org/forums/attachment.php?attachmentid=501582&stc=1&d=1225001150, coming toward the village through the passes on horse and on foot. Andrethi couldn't let them near the village. His breath was soft and quiet as he waited behind the boulder, the cool of the stone passing through the nomad garb he wore. Just below were the bandits who had come the previous month demanding for supplies. That time he had not interfered having been only a new arriver from Skaven. Usually he'd just pass through but this time he decided to bide his time a little bit more. In case someone was following he would wait a little bit. But these raiders interfered too much. There were only 8 and each had ample arms. He had seen spears, javelins, blades and axes.

Andrethi held the handle of the hand axe close to the metal head, one side for chopping, the other end pointed for piercing. The wood had leather strapping around the handle in cross cross formation for better grip. Over his back he had a circular leather shield that had seen some use and over his shoulder he had a long pouch holding several javelins. Pressing against the wall in front of him he leaped onto the boulder he had had his back to. Having an even higher position now he was looking straight down at the eight men. Slowly he slipped out one of the javelins and with a strong decisive throw he impaled one of the men riding on his horse between his neck and shoulder sending him in a pained fit.

He had been scouting them for a few days now and noticed they were capable especially with their bows. He decided to wait until they were in the narrow passes and they could not use their archery to great effect. Instead from above he could pick each one off one by one. Normally he'd have used his crossbow but at this range a decent throw was faster and more reliable.

After listening to their screams and insults he waited for the quiet to take over again. The long pauses in between each strike would act to wear down the enemy's morale. They kept walking up the pass slowly each holding their weapon in hand clenching as if for life. Andrethi eased his breathing for a moment and casted a spell. Illusion was even more effective when the mind of the one you are trying to deceive is tense and rigid with fear. The arcane sound of stones tumbling off behind them made each one turn and at that moment Andrethi leaped from one side of the pass to the other over head while again dropping another bandit with a precise toss of a javelin.

The horses began kicking and jumping and all was chaos once again. Andrethi crawled down the edge of the elevated stones, this time on their level and waited them to continue to advance. Slowly he bided his time listening to the foot steps, each one as delicate and nervous as it was. Then at the right moment the handle of the hand axe slipped so that he was holding the end and with a swift motion he stepped in front of the first man taking a single swing at his temple with the thin yet crude weapon. There was no time to scream at first until the next opponent had been downed by Andrethi's elegantly curved short blade which he slipped from his back and with an up swing flung it into his target.

The remaining three bandits stood there ready with an almost barbaric elegance. Their heads in part shaved, their sweating foreheads glistening in the some what obscured light that managed to pass through the mist. Before them Andrethi's Dunmeri features could be seen, just the top half of his face, but that was enough for them to realize they weren't dealing with a local. Even so either out of stupidity or sheer shock they didn't seem afraid. The man at the front, a low brow sharp nosed looking individual thrusted the spear he had been holding in the ground and removed instead a curved sword. He pressed his palm against the concave of the blade where it was flat clearly intending to use it in the close range as was the way to use such a blade under these circumstances. The two man behind him stood at ready as if expecting the Dunmer to run in between them to get away.

Andrethi walked forward yet still at ten or so meters distance from the bald headed man. He kneeled down to retrieve his curved blade from the liver punctured man and used the material of the man to wipe his blade in two swift movements. Now with his curved blade in his left hand, holding the sharp side toward his enemy, handle pointing toward the thumb, and the hand axe against his right shoulder, his hand ready to swing he began slowly nearing as the raider did much the same. "Your head I will tie to the tail of my horse, devil." He stepped forward thrusting the saber downward letting the back of his arm guide it through. Andrethi stepped back slashing the blade away as he swung down with the hand axe which in turn was blocked. Quickly another slash was made across the torso of the bandit as he was occupied blocking the axe and the man staggered backward. He looked down at the blood on his hand after pressing it against his wound and then up at Andrethi. Another swing of the hand axe came and this time as the wounded bandit aimed to block it, Andrethi instead aimed for his wrist, and then another strike again this time at the head dropping the man dead.

The remaining two took a few steps backward and then went into a full sprint but not before one of them caught the axe to their back as Andrethi threw it. It wasn't enough to kill him, no it was a lot harder to kill a man than most imagined. In fact none of the men there had been killed although they were slowly sinking into the after life. He stepped over the bandit and ran his blade across his throat before retrieving his axe and turning to walk back toward the village. As he turned however he saw something through the heavy fog. The sound of metal clanging and mechanical wheels turning was heard. A large mechanical golden machine standing on spindly legs could be half seen through the fog. It looked like one of the many Dwemer ruins that dotted the land scape, both in Morrowind and here. It was some sort of walking tower, what a Dunmeri philosophical statement that sight made. And on the balcony of that tower stood a robed Dunmer with his hands clasped behind his back. It was none other than his old mentor, Telvanni Aryon.

Arethan, Servyn; Rihad

"I'm not going anywhere. Stay put where you are."

Servyn turned to look at his superior at the sound of his commanding tone. Arethan gave a grim look their new acquaintance. He readied his hand in front of him, as if he was ready to strike the assassin at any moment. He didn't bother to look around at very many of the pedestrians who walked the street. It was no coincidence that they would be noticed, especially with their well armed equipment. However, none of this seemed to matter that much at all to Arethan. Servyn, on the other hand, continued to stare at the crack in the inn's structure.

"Do anything stupid, and I'll kill you where you stand."

Arethan pointed to the alleyway behind the inn, which was littered with different crates and barrels. If they went into it, they could talk without drawing the attention of the public. However, it would be easy for someone to hide behind the crates, making them vulnerable to an eavesdropping.

"There. We'll talk there. Servyn. Go first. And you, Dunmer, you go behind him. Go."

Arethan looked back at Swims and Alaudis, motioning them to follow him.

"If he does anything stupid, kill him. I don't give a damn what it is."

After they were in the alley way, hopefully all assembled, Arethan took his gaze at the Dunmer. Servyn was the top side of the alley, blocking the exit. Arethan had placed himself in front of the figure, while hopefully Swims and Alaudis would guard the entrance.

"Now, what's your name, Dunmer. What is it you want with Serosi?"

Rithe, Rihad

As Rithe turned to start walking he was startled when Arethan refused and replied quite abrasively "I'm not going anywhere. Stay put where you are." Rithe turned on his heel with a perplexed look upon his face. "Do anything stupid, and I'll kill you where you stand." Rithe laughed in his mind I would be gone before you had a chance to even point your finger. Arethan pointed at the alley that Rithe had arrived in, "There. We'll talk there. Servyn. Go first. And you, Dunmer, you go behind him. Go."

Rithe began to walk towards the alley behind the Dunmer named Servyn, Arethan motioned for the other two the follow. "If he does anything stupid, kill him. I don't give a damn what it is." then fell in behind Rithe as the walked back into the dark alley. When they reached the back Arethan began to question Rithe with an obvious tone of distrust in his voice. "Now, what's your name, Dunmer. What is it you want with Serosi?"

Rithe gave a short bow to Arethan, "I go by the name of Rithe." He rose from his bow, now looking Arethan directly in his eyes. "As for Serosi I have been sent by my master to aid you and your companions in finding him."

Morgana ; Rihad

Morgana was weaving her way through the crowd, feeling out of place. She missed the questionable comforts of Sentinel, she especially missed the quiet calm of Talwin's Watch, Cyric had assured her that the trip to Rihad would be a very profitable one and that they'd soon be able to live like they used to. Morgana didn't exactly feel the same optimism as her brother. He had changed all so much lately, he just wasn't the same, not since the night that they fled Talwin's Watch. He had become resourceful, that much Morgana was grateful for, but some of the things he did, it felt like the distance between them was growing.

Lost in her thoughts, it was a surprise when she found that she had bumped into a tall Breton, the jingling of chainmail bringing her attention back to the present. But what she saw terrified her. Two powerful looking figures guarded the entrance to an alleyway, past them, she could see a few figures but saw nothing else, her attention quickly returning to the menacing duo.

"Oh, um, Hi" She said lamely, her voice coming out as barely a squeak. She felt the urge to run growing inside, but she didn't dare move a inch, lest it give the two guardians the wrong idea.

Cyric ; Rihad

Following the group easily, blending with the crowd and occasionally walking in plain sight, Cyric managed to tail the group to the alleyway. His keen eyes quickly assessing the situation, he spotted a inviting tangle of crates and barrels, a perfect hiding spot. Seizing the brief moment of indecision within the group as they entered the alley, Cyric eased himself between the crates and with with a twist of his wrist, he dispelled the Charm of Aversion. Glancing about for potential escape routes, he noted with a sinking feeling that there was only the way he came in, if he wanted to leave quietly. If anyone were to come closer and discover him, things could get messy indeed. Avoiding such thoughts, he shifted slightly so as to get into a position where he could listen in more closely.

"I go by the name of Rithe." Cyric heard someone say, presumably Rithe, the voice continued, "As for Serosi I have been sent by my master to aid you and your companions in finding him." This left Cyric feeling perplexed. Who was Serosi? Judging by what he said, had Cyric just bumbled into a group of Bounty Hunters? He had a sinking feeling that he had just chosen a rather bad group to eavesdrop on. Bounty Hunters could be really fickle when other people started to try and 'steal' their prey. Sighing softly, he decided that as soon as the group left, he'd forget that he ever heard about them by getting drunk. Immediately.

Alaudis Archen - Talon's Port Inn

---

At Arethan's beckoning, Alaudis follwed the three dunmer men into the alleyway. It was a thin backstreet, barely the width of a man and half. With Arethan and Serosi on either side of Rithe, he didn't have any clear route of escape, but Alaudis had seen that this man knew the magic of Illusion, and damned if he wasn't the slippery sort.

"I go by the name of Rithe. As for Serosi I have been sent by my master to aid you and your companions in finding him." The assassin told them.

Before Arethan could reply, Alaudis stepped closer behind his companion. "I wouldn't trust him, Arethan. Killers don't tend to be the most honest men."

He could see the cloaked dunmer from around Arethan's shoulder, and his angered gaze was set heavy as stone on the blood red eyes beneath the shadow of Rithe's cloak. Alaudis was already annoyed enough at having to travel with the immoral Swims-in-Shadows, but the thought of having an assassin for a companion was at least ten time worse. Bandits, thieves, and killers are not the kind of men that heroes associate with. The young Breton thought. Still, as much as he hated what he was hearing, he knew in the end it would bring him what he truly deserved. Even if his deeds would never be sung through the ages, as long as his mother was at peace, he would die a happy man. All he could do at this point is hope that Arethan's mistrust of Rithe would measure up to his own.

Rithe, Back Alley, Rihad

Rithe turned his attention to the Breton now, before he hadn't given him a second look, but now the Breton had finally spoken up. He shot a heavy stare a Rithe while talking to Arethan, "I wouldn't trust him, Arethan. Killers don't tend to be the most honest men."

Rithe smiled and replied to the Breton, "Ahh but do you not have the blood of another on your hands also Breton? That would make you a killer as well."

Rithe's tone was light and soft as he spoke to the Breton. "Killer, murderer, assassin, call me what you will but like it or not you and I are the same. We have both ended the lives of men mer and beast, so before you pass judgement on others I suggest you take a moment to think about the larger scheme of things."

Rithe's tone now began to sound slightly defensive as he continued his reply to the Dunmer "Another thing, the Morag Tong are not dishonorable killers and murderers. We are an important institution that plays a large part in Dunmeri and Morrowind politics. I suggest you research them before you label them as cutthroats and murderers."

Rithe calmed down, taking a deep breath. It angered him when people spoke of his former order with disgust. The Dark Brotherhood had slandered and diminished the once great reputation of true assassins, even though he bore their symbol on his face and a similar armor he held no love for them, he was forced to tolerate them by his master.

Rithe was waiting for the Breton to respond when what seemed to be a young girl ran out in front of Swims and bumped into Alaudis, instinctively Rithe raised his palm towards the new arrival poised and ready to incinerate the intruder should she prove to be harmful. The young girl spoke with a scared and surprised tone,

"Oh, um, Hi"

Rithe lowered his hand, Just a peasant in the wrong place at the wrong time..

Justaine Dalomax - "An Urgent Departure" - Rihad Bay



"Change of plans, gentlemen! We're pulling into port immediately."


Justaine's voice, though normally quiet and well composed, had taken on that distinctive air of authority he was so well known for. He could have commanded armies and navies with a voice like that... and had more than once been offered promotion to a higher office for his strong abilities to lead. But for him, it was about the ship... and the men he served with. He didn't want to spend his golden years sitting behind a desk in the Imperial City... reminiscing with gray-haired old friends about the glory days. He would be a Captain until his dying days. Wherever his ship and his sailors went, that was his home... and his family. And because of that sentiment, he was popular amongst the sailors who served aboard his ship... because he behaved just like one of them.

Sometimes, however, he had to become the Captain... like now. When that happened, his word became law... and there wasn't a member of his crew who wouldn't follow through with an order unquestioningly.

He couldn't help but feel quite honored, whenever he watched his sailors at work. It was humbling.

That made it all the harder for him to lie to them...


Behind him, Hvitir and her escorts were preparing to return to their own vessel.

This encounter would go un-reported, for the time being. Several members of the nobility in Anvil were keeping tabs on the situation here. Prominent names, supposedly interested in restoring stability and keeping the peace... all those nice little terms for 'protecting our own interests' and 'looking out for ourselves'. How long would it be before the local Lords and Ladies began open talks of getting involved?

It was painfully obvious that the Legion couldn't hope to stop the fighting. Political infighting had weakened the ranks badly enough as it was... not to mention the situation in Skyrim, Elsweyr, and Summerset Isle. It was all they could do to police crime in the Imperial City, much less relieve the growing tensions and open states of revolution which had now cropped up.

How long before Anvil made a move, directly? Would they sit back and see how their crusaders fared, first?


Before he could delve too much deeper into thoughts of war, however, Hvitir broke his concentration by dragging him into a firm embrace. "It was good to see you again, Captain... I wish I could have stayed, and helped in your search, but as so often is the case... we have duties which call us separate ways. Perhaps when you have completed your mission, here, you might look me up in Anvil."

Her voice was warm, and inviting... just like it had always been, years ago. He had to swallow down the lump in his throat before he could speak again... though he did manage a chuckle in the meanwhile.

"I may just have to take you up on that. However, I doubt my business will keep me here long. I will no doubt be expected to report my findings, one way or the other, once I have concluded the investigation. I might well find myself in Anvil even before you do. Still, the fates seem intent upon drawing us back together... so who knows, for certain, when next our paths may cross?"

Hvitir nodded sheepishly, then winced slightly and shook her head. "Oh! I almost forgot... there's one more thing I meant to tell. It's about Rihad, and those names you mentioned. The three you were looking for? Two of them were already dead before I was ordered here. It happened right around the same time as the Knights of the Nine were pressing into Hammerfell, and there was a lot of violence going on throughout the city here. We knew that they weren't rebels... but other than that, there was no explanation for what they were doing in the city. Despite the fact that they were discovered together, in a relatively unfazed section of the city, the best we could do was put them down as collateral damage. But now that the body we discovered last Middas has been identified as Hasphel Artellius, I... can't help but wonder. Do you think... perhaps... someone is hunting and killing Blades?"

Justaine frowned sharply and bit his lower lip, thinking.

After a moment, however, he glanced up and sighed. "One agent's death... is a tragedy. When two die, it is perhaps coincidental. Three obvious murders this closely timed together? I can only assume the worst. Thank you for telling me. With that final piece of information, the message I received today suddenly makes complete sense. It also means that I have precious little time to act. You, as well, should be on your way. If we are perchance witnessed together by whatever unknown party has perpetrated these killings... it is entirely possible that you will become a target as well. For now, though, you should go. Take care of yourself... and do not worry overly much about what I have told you. When the time comes, you will be informed. Until then, continue to behave normally and carry out your duties as expected."

Bowing politely, Hvitir took a step back and turned to face the plank between her ship and the "Insurmountable".

"Justaine... I just want you to know something. You being a "spy"... is almost as unbelievable as you being a pirate. You really need to start coming up with better excuses for why you never come visit me, anymore."


Several minutes later, as the "Lady Goldwinston" disappeared over the edge of the horizon and the "Insurmountable" prepared to drop anchor in the Rihad Bay Docks... Justaine Dalomax sat idly in his quarters.

In one hand, he held a book... propped open to a certain page. In the other, a quill.

With a solemn expression, he struck three names from the list within.

Profiles here below:



Shavaash Opress and Kraven Desselius, Rihad's Slave Market.

The sun burned down out of a cloudless blue sky, washing the vast desert wastes of the province in brilliant white light. The resultant glare rose off the flat, sandy surface in a wet shimmer of blistering heat to fill the gaps between the massive cliff faces and solitary outcroppings of the boulders that were Hammerfell’s sole distinguishing feature. Of course, that was outside. Inside one of Rihad’s many different establishments were a cornucopia of races and shady activities. Humans and nonhumans mingled about in the smoky air, sipping drinks of every color and puffing on exotic pipes full of exotic drugs. Many robes showed bulges reminiscent of weapons, and in looking around, anyone understood that everyone was a potential threat. Shavaash Opress stood in the darkest corner of the slave market underworld in Rihad. Much commotion was going; Plots transpiring, slaves being sold, fighting being gambled on. And to think this one was with the same lot as these slaves years ago, Shavaash thought. So much has changed.

Taking a long sip from his drink, Shavaash watched as the latest fight came to a bloody conclusion. It was more of a brawl rather than a fight. An Imperial brute fought against an esteemed redguard warrior. Being a former member of the Legion, the Imperial was a bit older, more refined in his fighting skills and much more intelligent. Yet, that wasn’t enough to have him be victor. It was enough, however, to get him killed quicker than everyone else had. Imperial presence in Hammerfell is frowned upon by some of its inhabitants, even more so since the Empire lost it’s hold over it. It gave some of these redguards a sense of pride and dominion over their lands that speaks confidence. Shavaash watched with intrigue as the Imperial lost his life at the end of a steel shortsword to the neck. At this point, Shavaash looked for a worthier opponent to place his bet on; Kraven Desselius. A friend much like a brother to him. He wouldn’t be hard to find. And sure enough, after scanning the crowd of cutthroats and barbarians, Shavaash located his friend.

Kraven has light-brown skin tone and would easily be the tallest Imperial in the area. He had long, shoulder-length black hair, which he wears behind him in a savage manner and allows it to fall on his shoulders. Like some individuals seen nearby, Kraven had no shirt on and very short brown pants. It wasn’t to impress anyone with his built physique, mostly everyone around here had that. It was due to the heat of Hammerfell amplified by the body heat of the crowded area that caused Kraven to wear so little.

Sweating profoundly, Kraven made his way through the multitude of cheering people and hasty individuals as he found Shavaash taking another gulp of the precious drink of all; Water. Reaching out, Kraven snatched the jug of water and greedily gulped down it’s contents from the tip, spilling a few droplets that could have been avoided. It seemed Kraven also wanted to refresh his body. After wiping his mouth and giving a satisfactory “ahhh”, Kraven took a seat across Shavaash.

“By the Prince,” Kraven started “I feel as if my body will melt into a puddle. It is very hot”

Shavaash did not laugh nor smile, he simply nodded “Vaba,”

Kraven ordered another jug of cold water to a redguard servant. She smiled and notified him that she would be on her way. Shavaash stroked his whiskers and shook his head simultaneously. “Many women smiles upon Kraven....watching him. This one thinks Kraven should find love.”

Kraven’s only response was a sly grin “I’m afraid not, my friend. I am in no position of turning my back on my bride.”

“Wife not here,” Shavaash cracked a smile.

“Such things you say,” Kraven looked around, reverting the subject “We can earn a bit of drakes here. Buy yourself a slave woman.”

“Shavaash thinks of it.”

Kraven and Shavaash arrived many days ago in Hammerfell from the jungles of Valenwood where he made his home. One environment traded for another for a temporary moment. While Morrowind had ceased it’s use of slavery, Hammerfell apparently had not. One of the reasons he came here was to purchase some slaves. He wasn't sure how he would feel about being a slaver owner, even if Kraven was a former slave himself. His previous Master had treated him better than most in Morrowind treated their slaves, and hadn't beaten him too often, but he still, was punished whenever he tried an escape. He wasn’t a total hypocrite, as Kraven would purchase slaves just to free them. It was a questionable act by normal standards. But he was a unique individual with a unique condition. He lived happily without the use of drakes or ships. The wilderness was his home. All he needed was to free these slaves, and he needed a few pieces of gold to purchase them.

Shavaash pointed at the corner where the slaves were being sold. “Slaves be sold there. One thousand drakes each.” Kraven scratched his chin slowly, thinking of the obvious “We do not hold that much drakes.”

Shavaash agreed. Even combined, it wasn’t enough to own such a number. But Kraven came prepared. There was a quick way of getting gold here and that was by making a bet. With his superior hearing, Kraven could hear the bets being made on the particular victor named Sirius Mentrell. This redguard pit dog proved himself over the past few months, killing more than his fair share of people. Bets were going well over a thousand drakes on his victory and most people did not even bother betting on the other participants, they knew well he was a man with a fearsome reputation and were unwilling to risk the gold. Kraven had a plan he utilized many times in his life; I’m going to bet on myself.

Kraven told Shavaash the same plan and as always, Shavaash Oppress agreed with a full heart to the plan. They had no gold to place a bet, nothing at all. It would be a risk to take, one that would be costly if Kraven lost. So they had some studying to do before he would agree to such thing. Kraven and Shavaash both lifted from their seats and explored the large crowed underground area. Slavers, cutthroats, barbarians, thieves and lowly [censored]s all filled the place. They saw slaves being sold to both the underworld types and the wealthy noble disguising as a commoner. He wasn’t sure where these slaves came from and he didn’t care. As long as their hold from bondage is loosed, he would be satisfied.

They reached the circular area where many people were surrounding. In the middle, were the two combatants. Sirius and an unamed Breton with yellow hair and light blue eyes. Like his opponent, the Breton had a weapon and knew how to use it, his choice of blade was the shortsword. Unlike Sirius, the Breton was not in fit physical shape to last long in many numerous movements without getting tired. Sirius had short, cropped hair while the Breton had curly blond hair. The gamble was set by the various dirty spectators, the likely sum betted on Sirius, the highest was two thousand drakes. An imaginable sum.

Sirius roared loudly as he grabbed his weapon of choice from above the bloodied table; a spiked gauntlet with serrated edges. The crowd roared in cheer as they were about to witness Sirius fight with gauntlets against a man with a shortsword. The announcer spoke and the crowd began to spread to watch the battle unfold. The rather ignorant and newcomers wanted to re-arrange their bets since they doubted Siriuse’s survival after choosing a gauntlet. The battle began, with Sirius making the first move. With a step forward and one to the side, Sirius avoided a single thrust from the shortsword and counter-attacked with an upper cut to the Breton’s chin. Then with a straight punch to the face with his lethal gauntlet.

Blood already began to tickle down the Breton’s face and he began to daze around like a drunken pirate. His next attacks were sloppier and amateurish, he aimed on direction and carried it out the opposite. Kraven saw as blood trickling from his forehead began dripping into his eyes, blurring his vision. It gave Sirius the advantage he required to finish his opponent with a fast and fatal blow. The Breton man screamed and swung his sword horizontally, attempting to slice open the redguard’s stomach, but instead of that, he was greeted with a deadly strike to the throat. The spiked gauntlet striking his neck, drawing much blood from his veins. Sirius smiled in sadistic satisfaction and forced the gauntlet deeper. With a graceful kick, Sirius pushed back the Breton off of the gauntlet and onto the bloody floor. The surrounding spectators erupted with shouts of praise and joy as they collected their earnings from the disappointed losers.

For three more matches, Kraven studied the redguard Sirius with much interest, all of his moves, his use of the blade and later, the axe, was remarkable for some of the lowly individuals, but for Kraven it was the basics for gladiatorial battle. The first match Sirius defeated a single foe, the next match he fought against two unarmed nords and won in the end. More people won their gold and fewer lost. The atmosphere of the gambling area became stale with Siriuse’s victories. No one wanted to bet against him now that he had proven himself for the day. And the monthly winnings didn’t help either. Kraven saw this as an opportunity.

“No one wishes to bet against Sirius? Undefeated fighter of Rihad?”

Shavaash glanced at Kraven, who nodded sincerely in response. Then, Shavaash grabbed hold of Kraven’s arm and lifted it high.

“Shavaash bet on this man!”

The multitude of sweaty people began mumbling amongst themselves in awe and mocking expressions. Kraven expected this from them, as no one defeated Sirius in the past months. And all who tried, perished miserably.

“How much would the Khajiit want to bet?” The redguard announcer asked, only partially amused.

“One thousand and five hundred” Shavaash glared at the announcer, than everyone around him.

The crowd was not as surprised as they were before, but nevertheless they were still confused as to why Shavaash would bet on Kraven. After a few speeches were exchanged, Shavaash made a bet with two people, who made a bet over than what Shavaash had made. Kraven stepped in the middle of the large fighting circle. He inhaled deeply and then forced an exhale. Kraven raised both of his arms high and screamed with vigor, only to be responded with scolding boos and thumbs down signals. Sirius laughed, raising a single arm to compete with Kraven. His shout, however, was replied with many shouts and screams of honor and glory.

It was time to battle.

Back Alley, Rihad

Swims-in-Shadows listened carefully to Rithe's responses to Alaudis, pondering the merits of the Dunmer's words. While part of him wanted to speak out and argue with the assassin, he was far more curious to see how Alaudis would respond, so he instead kept his mouth shut.

"Ahh but do you not have the blood of another on your hands also Breton? That would make you a killer as well. Killer, murderer, assassin, call me what you will but like it or not you and I are the same. We have both ended the lives of men mer and beast, so before you pass judgement on others I suggest you take a moment to think about the larger scheme of things." said Rithe. Actually, Alaudis has only ever killed in self-defense, and he's barely ever done that. He's so nauseatingly moral I can barely speak to him; not that he usually wants to speak anyway. A wave of annoyance at the assassin swept over Swims; his attempt to convince Alaudis to step away from his morality went over poorly with the Argonian bandit, thanks to its lack of subtlety. The more you do say dumb things like that, the worse my chances of actually corrupting him are. If you argue with him over his values, he'll just get more entrenched in them.

"Another thing, the Morag Tong are not dishonorable killers and murderers. We are an important institution that plays a large part in Dunmeri and Morrowind politics. I suggest you research them before you label them as cutthroats and murderers." continued Rithe, this time with a tone of touchiness that someone had insulted the Tong. Oh, you've got to be kidding me. Who are you trying to fool? You're obviously part of the Brotherhood, and last I heard, they're at war with the Morag Tong. In any case, the Tong doesn't do anything valuable for Morrowind; I don't remember seeing any of them in the trenches outside of Sentinel during the War of the Wolves.

Before he had the pleasure of hearing Alaudis' response, a young Breton woman, seemingly lost in thought, bumped into Alaudis.

"Oh, um, hi." she almost squeaked. Anyone could tell she was more than a little nervous about her current situation, and Swims couldn't blame her; the five of them looked quite suspicious and dangerous. Still, something felt odd about the whole thing.

"Alaudis, check your pockets. Street rats like this only bump into you for one reason." said Swims harshly, gesturing at the small Breton woman.

Cyric - Rihad

Listening to the conversation between the dark individuals, Cyric felt the all-too-familiar chill run down his spine. Morag Tong, he thought vaguely, it sounded familiar. Then it struck him, they weren't just bounty hunters, they were cold blooded, murderous, assassins! Suddenly feeling very small, and outmatched, Cyric felt that it would definitely be in his best interests to leave the premises as soon as he could, but the moment he shifted, almost right on que, he heard a muffled scuffle and a timid, familiar voice squeak,

"Oh, um, hi." It was Morgana, Cyric could feel a headache coming on now, could his day just get any worse? Unfortunately it seemed fate was conspiring against him, as one of the assassins spoke, his throaty drawl sounding Argonian,

"Alaudis, check your pockets. Street rats like this only bump into you for one reason." His mind racing, Cyric considered the possiblities. If he left now, quietly, he would easily be able to get away and act like nothing at all had happened. But if he did that, he would be abandoning his sibling, family. That was unimaginable. The other option, perhaps knocking the barrels towards the group and snatching his sister and making a quick escape seemed good, but remembering the conversation between the assassins, he wasn't sure Morgana and him could escape whole. The last option he was considering was simply leaving his cover and try to approach the assassins in as calmly and unsuspiciously as he could. Perhaps with a bit of diplomacy he could get him and his sister out unharmed and alive.

Deciding to take the diplomatic route, Cyric eased himself out of his hidden position. Seeing the intimidating lot face to face, Cyric suddenly felt a lot less confident in being able to fib his way out of this mess. Still, he was seen now and there was no going back. Holding his arms out to his side, palms spread to show he was unarmed, he approached the group and tried to smile. He managed to twitch his lips. Feeling exposed and not a little bit threatened, he looked at his sister once, then turned his attention to the Breton and said

"Ah, Kind sir! I see that my sister has... disturbed you. She can be most inattentive at times and it's often my job to catch her before she can get into trouble!" He tried to laugh, he coughed instead, withering under the intense glare of Morgana,. "Now, I'm sure you are all very busy so we'll just be leaving now..." It took Cyric a moment to realize just how absolutely absurd he sounded. First he leaves the cover of some crates, it wouldn't take a genius to guess that he was eavesdropping and now he made it sound like they'd just stolen something and were hoping to get away with it! Feeling foolish, Cyric fervently hoped that the assassins would be merciful.

Rithe, Back alley, Rihad

Suddenly as if it had been planned a young man stepped out from a barrel and confronted the group. Rithe now knew that the breathing had heard earlier had in fact been from someone not in their party. The young man seemed nervous and scared as he spoke to the group,

"Ah, Kind sir! I see that my sister has... disturbed you. She can be most inattentive at times and it's often my job to catch her before she can get into trouble! Now, I'm sure you are all very busy so we'll just be leaving now..."

Rithe looked at the young man, "I wouldn't move if I were you." He then turned to Arethan, his voice was sharp and suspicious "Something isn't right here, I find it hard to believe that this is just a coincidence."


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


Athanden, Rihad.

Athanden rose from his seat walking back towards the door of his quarters. The sun had risen to the middle of the sky and now shone brightly down upon the bay, the salty air blew across the deck. Athanden took a deep breath, he loved the sea, he found it very relaxing. He walked across the deck and climbed up the stairs to the helm, there manning the wheel was his first mate and trusted general Aryn Omaren.

"Aryn, sail up near the coast and then drop anchor. We will take one of the smaller boats into Rihad to meet with the Knights. Also ready the men that will accompany us into town, I want to get this business done before nightfall."

"Yes sir, I will start on it immediately." Aryn called off to another nearby crewman and passed on Athanden's orders. Athanden walked closer to Aryn,

"What do you think of all this?"

"Of aiding the Knights?" asked Aryn.

"Yes, do you think it is a wise decision?"

"I do not know, however gold is gold and the man with the most is the one that matters most." said Aryn with a chuckle.

Athanden laughed as he patted Aryn's back, "Yes that is true." As Athanden walked back to his cabin he thought of the things that had transpired over the past week and wondered how his soldiers would take it when the time came. Being a mercenary was a risky business, Athanden knew this all too well.

Arethan, Servyn; Rihad

Arethan still stood in his place, palms still ready in front of him. He watched as the others said their pieces, one by one. He listened closely as Rithe responded to the Breton, who had given advice not to trust the assassin before them.

"Ahh but do you not have the blood of another on your hands also Breton? That would make you a killer as well. Killer, murderer, assassin, call me what you will but like it or not you and I are the same. We have both ended the lives of men mer and beast, so before you pass judgement on others I suggest you take a moment to think about the larger scheme of things...Another thing, the Morag Tong are not dishonorable killers and murderers. We are an important institution that plays a large part in Dunmeri and Morrowind politics. I suggest you research them before you label them as cutthroats and murderers."

Arethan looked back at his new acquaintance, uttering a quick reply.

"Killing Serosi isn't required of me, not now."

But then his mind scanned backwards, thinking over the words the assassin had just said to the Breton.

"We are..."

The bastards here to kill me. A slip of the tongue and that was it. Damn, another one...I thought I had finally lost them. But looks like he's one of them.

"So you say that you're part of this institution, which plays its part in Dunmeri politics?"

Arethan grinned. He thought he had finally caught the assassin at a slip of his tongue. He looked over at Swims and Alaudis, now eying the young Breton who had just approached them. It appeared that another man had come up beside her, palms open. He slowly glanced back to the assassin in front of him.

"What's to say that wasn't just a slip of your tongue?"

Arethan took another stare at the Breton who had just approached from his hiding space. He glanced down at the crate which the man had hid in, apparently listening to their every word. Servyn took his own cold glance at the assassin, drawing his blade and readying his off hand for a spell.

"You're not going anywhere. Stay here or I'll blast your soul into Oblivion."


Amaru, outside Rihad

"You honor us with your hospitality." Bomilkar said after the group had approached the Imperial mage before them. This disgusted Amaru: the mere fact that the Raga opposing Sentinel would send, of all beings, an Imperial knight to meet the great High King outside their city gates. His face grew stern as ever, as he looked over at Bomilkar, and at the Imperial before them.

"Our brothers dishonor the High King. To send a foreigner who trespasses on the lands of the Raga to meet the Elden Yokeda himself. Disgraceful. It disgusts me."

Amaru gazed over the Imperial woman after hearing each and every one of her remarks. Unlike Haroun, Amaru was no racist. He had always been quite kind to foreigners and those who visited his homeland even in the days of the Empire. However, as he gazed upon this one particular, disgust filled his heart. He felt hatred for the woman and disgust and dishonor alike for his brothers.

"Your hospitality is polite, indeed. However, I see no need to say anything else to a foreigner as yourself..."

He paused, strengthening his voice with an authority only an Ansei of the Halls of Virtuous War could carry.

"You knights do not represent our brothers. Take us to the King."

The Northern Plain's, Road Between Skaven and Taneth

A cool wind blew over the grassy savanna, weaving it's way through the tall blood stained weeds and grass that once boasted a bright, wheaty brown color, now dinged with the crimson red of blood. Most caravan's that crossed this vast stretch were water, food and live stock caravans, carrying the necessities of life back and forth between the rich coastal cities and the hardy and barren settlements of the northern badlands. Skaven had often traded much needed resources taken from the sea for hardy livestock and coin with the city of Taneth, who always seemed in plentiful supply of grain and water and there was a much needed demand for the hardy livestock that managed to flourish in the hands of the skilled Altai of the Skaven Khanite. This one, however, was different; instead of grain, water and cattle, there were weapons. Sword's and shields, armor and other miscellaneous war materials filled the wagon's covered in thick tarps and tapestries used to conceal the contraband and disguise it as simple trade job, but the guards gave it away to something much bigger.

Hasturbal found himself sitting at the edge of a small oasis, dipping his hand's in the cool water and splashing it acrossed his blood stained face as the screams of the survivors echoed, carried by the winds until they fell silent and replaced by the sick slicing noise of sword and flesh. Twenty nine in all, including the caravan drivers, armed guard's and their pathfinders met a quick and brutal end as Hasturbal and his force of about one hundred warriors fell upon them and easily over came them, all except one, a pathfinder who managed to slip away in the chaos. The rest surrendered quickly, a shame Hasturbal thought, their fate was the same as if they had fought gallantly and with honor, instead, they died with same, their swords lay on the ground next to their lifeless bodies and left for the carrion bird's.

"The dishonored have been dealt with." came the familiar voice of Fashi al-Mualan, a short but fit man who's features were covered in the blood of the vanquished. "No sign of the escapee though, we believe he will make way to Taneth." he continued, knealing by the lake and partcaking in the cool drink of the Oasis.

"We should expect a search party then?" Hasturbal said, a smirk creeping upon his face. Fashi returned the smirk and nodded, a fire rasisng just above the tall of the grass followed by the crackle of flame. "Gather the men, we should make haste."

Justaine Dalomax - "Broken Blades, Shattered Steel" - A Back Alley, Rihad



Well, this certainly was awkward...


For the last several minutes, as Justain had been making his way through the crowded city streets, his eyes had been darting from one side of the road to the other in search of the Talon Inn... a small public house where he and his contacts within the region would often meet to discuss the affairs of the Empire. He had not been back since the region completely destabilized... but his brothers had remained. Two of them, Tannak Ahkellium and Rihon the Rogue, had been locals. This was their homeland... and there was hardly any need for them to retreat. Hasphel, however, was an Imperial through-and-through.... and his cover had been fairly weak to begin with.

There were enough suspicions going around, that even if he had stuck with his claim of being a bounty-hunter... he still would have been wise to flee the province along with the rest of the Imperials during the subsequent unrest and open state of rebellion. It was actually surprising it had taken so long for him to get himself targeted for attack. Mind, he was a well-trained agent and assassin... so to think that he had been caught unawares was almost as baffling as the amount of time it took for it to happen.


At any rate... he had been intending to use the back entrance of the Inn to avoid drawing too much attention to himself.

The Breton was almost as concerned about being seen in public wearing his ridiculous Colovian finery as he was about unwittingly bumping into some would-be assassin. However, what he found was a bit unsettling on both fronts.

There, directly before him in the alley he had chosen to cut down, was a collection of rather tense looking individuals blocking his path.

This certainly did not bode well. And so, doing what so naturally came to him, he simply raised his hand to his lips and whistled sharply.


"Oh! Good morn, gentlemen, m'lady! Please, could one of you please... please... tell me this is the right way to the Talon Inn? I have been wandering around this infernal city for nearly an hour now! I fear I am running dreadfully late!"

They certainly didn't look like the helpful sort... but he was content to play the role of the ignorant outlander for a while. It suited him well enough. He was naturally oblivious to his surroundings anyways... so it was only a matter of playing up his helplessness.

"Damn that Argonian! Talos have mercy on me for what I shall do to that disreputable beast if ever I find him! I'll tan his swindling hide and make shoes of it!"


It was a lie, of course. He was intentionally ruffling feathers. There was no swindling guide... nor confusion upon where he was. He merely had seen the Argonian present in the group. This was most certainly the alley immediately through which he would pass to find the Talon Inn. His only goal now, besides passing safely through to the Inn, was gleaning any information he could from these suspicious-looking individuals while he waited for them to clear a path.

"What a miserable, miserable city. I can hardly believe anyone lives here willingly..."

Morgana - Rihad; The Alley Behind the Talon Inn

Things weren't going too well for Mogana. It seemed like she had just bumped into what must be the most unfriendly bunch of people she had ever met. Their grim demeanours and the darkly tone in which they spoke was enough to send shivers down her spine, if she wasn't petrified in fear.

"Alaudis, check your pockets. Street rats like this only bump into you for one reason." said the Argonian harshly, then, right on cue, Cyric appeared out behind some crates and approached the group. He was trying to be diplomatic and placating, Morgana thought, on the other hand, he didn't seem to be doing a very good job of it. He sounded very wooden and false, she thought critically.

"Ah, Kind sir! I see that my sister has... disturbed you. She can be most inattentive at times and it's often my job to catch her before she can get into trouble!" Cyric said, at which point Morgana glared at him, he coughed and continued, looking sheepish. "Now, I'm sure you are all very busy so we'll just be leaving now..." But before either of them could take a single step, the harsh threats of the Dunmer whipped across the alley, freezing them in place.

"I wouldn't move if I were you." said one, turning to his companion "Something isn't right here, I find it hard to believe that this is just a coincidence."

"You're not going anywhere. Stay here or I'll blast your soul into Oblivion." said the other. Not wanting to irritate either the Argonian, or the Dunmer, or be blasted into Oblivion, Morgana wisely stood still. There was a moments pause and Morgana was about to speak when a sudden whistle pierced the air and a somewhat foppish looking man waved at the group and said,

"Oh! Good morn, gentlemen, m'lady! Please, could one of you please... please... tell me this is the right way to the Talon Inn? I have been wandering around this infernal city for nearly an hour now! I fear I am running dreadfully late!" Things were getting stranger and stranger, Morgana reflected, "Damn that Argonian! Talos have mercy on me for what I shall do to that disreputable beast if ever I find him! I'll tan his swindling hide and make shoes of it!"

"What a miserable, miserable city. I can hardly believe anyone lives here willingly..." The tension in the air was postively crackling, Morgana thought, with a tinge of pity for the man who had just interuppted the Assassins. Judging by what the Dunmer had said before, she hoped that the Dunmer wouldn't jump to the conclusion that the man was working with her and Cyric! Glancing at her brother, she could tell that he was thinking the same thoughts... And probably thinking of a way to get out of here with the best deal. Filled with apprehension, Morgana watched, and hoped for the best.