Sentinel Palace, War Room

Haroun considered all that his men had lay before him. A lot of news was to be digested, although he felt this was the wrong venue for all the information...now would be the time to put minds at rest. For a brief moment, as Bomlikar entered the room, he felt a weight lifted off his shoulders. His brother survived after all.

So things did not come to all out bloodshed.

"Baibars, your duty as Yokeda and Khan will always be to your people...and your unswerving dedication to them is admirable. If you can avoid rifts within the Ayuub tribe, or better yet work towards favor with your opponents in the vocal arena than Ayuub lack of involvement within this war will be worth it. Remember Baibars, the End Justifies the Means." It was what Haroun had told himself as an assassin killed the old High Priest of Sentinel, framing the Cyrodiils and rallying Forebears under the then Prince. And it was also a message he hoped Baibars would never dissect. He wished for his Yokeda to keep their minds at ease.

He was surprised to hear Bomlikar agree with Ruhk. Even under the High King's apprenticeship to Aryon, he kept his studies solely to alchemic properties and scientific theory as well as mechanical contraptions...never the perversion of Nirn itself. But Aryon's own magic was invaluable in war, as were the Aldmeri mercenaries hired before.

"See to it they are hired, keep them in the conflict." Dead mercenaries are much better than dead soldiers fighting in his name.

"The Shi no butaii-" his mind drifted back to Faux's comment on recreating Zama, "they will dismount at the eastern coast of the bay. If we get a harassing, sapping force behind enemy lines prior to the initial conflict...we'd have a great psychological tool as well as resource depleting capabilities at our disposal."

He used his pointer to point out the bay, "We'll outfit four ships with Thunder shot, as well as two guns worth with the main army. For the initial battle."

Thunder shot, quite possibly there most devastating weapon in war, yet so precious, expensive, and difficult to make.

"Lord Sabotai, Yokeda of the Southern Empire will command the vanguard, Bomlikar your men will control the left flank of the Army, Ruhk the right. General Faux will command all troops of EAST ARMY. It is our coordination and willingness to work together against their division, we must all put aside personal differences in order to leave this war victorious. If the Knight's Divine Crusader were to appear we would need every tool and weapon available...do not let our stubborn pride compromise that."

General Faux nodded in agreement, his white mustache being twirled by his curling fingers. "When do we deploy our forces Elden Yokeda?"

Haroun looked up, "Three weeks General."

The cackling laugh which only Haroun could hear echoed in his head.

The HoonDing was coming.

Sentinel War Room
Baibars Ayuub

Baibars shook his head, his face expression remaining stern, but his eyes betraying sadness. "No, they will not remember. Our tribal memory reaches back far, further back than the city-dwellers', than this schism between Forebear and Crown, but not far enough to remember a time before their own exile. 'Forebear' is a word that will ring hollow in their ears, that much I can say for sure." The khan sighed heavily, turning from the map. "This is not something I can plot from the comforts of Sentinel. The Elden Yokeda needed to know, but that is all, I shall go back to my tribe and confer with the elders and the fathers of the tribes. That is how I must solve this; not as a city-dweller Yokeda, but as the khan of the Ayuubs."

That was that; unless the Elden Yokeda wished to discuss it further, Baibars would've prefered to leave the matter be. While Bomilkar knew better than anyone here what it was like, dealing with prejudices ages old, particularly those held by a people as stubborn as nomads could be, he was khan of the Barca and the Barca were a different tribe from the Ayuubs. While their traditions were equally ancient, Baibars' tribe had for a very long time considered city-dwellers as much an enemy as Heartlanders or whoever came to their lands seeking to conquer.

Haroun's words seemed to sound rather ominous, but the Ayuub khan appreciated not being forced to act now and in a way that would only worsen the situation, which was what he'd feared the High King would demand of him; if that had happened, this whole meeting could've had a whole new set of consequences that would've been difficult indeed to predict. The desert khan, however, was forced to cut his considerations about this conflict short with the throwing out of a suggestion to hire Altmer magi. Immediately, the wrinkle on his forehead deepened.

"The war is long and takes a toll on our people, true, and the idea to let foreigners kill each other with their perversities might sound appealing. But, Elden Yokeda, know that I do not support this at all. The outlanders have little honour; it burdens our shoulders greatly. The greatest victories in the War of the Wolves were won without stooping to their lows and while the knights are a fearsome enemy, should we let fear compromise who we are? And the elves are already too eager to remind Sentinel of what feeble aid they spared during the struggle against the Heartlanders, we should not indebt ourselves to them further."

Perhaps the generals would think him too deeply stuck in the old ways, and in the end his oppinion mattered little after the High King had spoken, but Baibars, for all his open-mindedness, despised magick and those who practiced it. It had claimed many lives during the endless wars the Yokudan Empire found itself involved in and, more importantly... it had cost him his brother as well. For was it not that encounter with a Heartlander battlemage that strengthened Shirkuh's hatred of outsiders enough for him to oppose his khan and brother openly..?


Rihad Temple
Lysandra

The battlemage rose her eyebrows in surprise as Crixus explained with the help of the map. Old man just loves surprises, doesn't he. I guess he's more a Cyrodiil than Redguard; once one, always one. And no amount of propaganda leaflets or books you write for the heathen king will change that, now will it. A faint, satisfied smile briefly passed over her face, less about the information - it was just too satisfying for her to see the facade of a patriotic servant of the Yokudan Empire fall away completely when personal desires got in the way. She enjoyed such moments, even though it was not as satisfying as it would've if this was a man like the Barca khan sitting in front of her.

"Yes, Stanet is not the sharpest knife in the drawer. Not even in his family, and that says something." Lysandra began in an offhand manner. While she might've defended the Knight Commander against this very man during the diplomatic council, that was merely shielding her own flanks and plugging holes. It didn't change what she thought about him, though she couldn't deny a man with Terentius' background was a preferable superior to a pious, proper and self-righteous Knight Commander.

And it's not like he can use it against me in any way. We might both be implicated here, but I'm the one with the proof. He doesn't have my signature on a paper that I'd have no business signing.

"Now, is this exact, accurate information? You understand of course that the order is capable of speculating on its own, however if you are sure that your king intends to attack and not wait for us to come... And about the blockade as well... That would change things. And if you could also affirm the oppinion that Haroun won't attempt to negotiate with any of the neutral states to our east about the possibility of a risky but entirely unexpected flanking attack through the Corten Mont, then we would be square. And I, in turn, could ensure" She tapped lightly on the paper that Crixus had slid towards her. "That the people we have agreed on will arrive to the location entirely unharmed, in one piece and short of no one."

You've come this far, old man. There's no chance you can back out now, even if those silly superstitions your kind holds for gods descend from the heavens to be your advocates.

Sentinel War Room

Before Haroun could reply to Baibars, the heavily accented man wearing the maroon mask.

"Elden Yokeda...I must also share my concern over hiring the elves, agreeing with fellow Yokeda Baibars. They have paraded around throwing the Yokudan Empire's name as ally, and have been slow to release us from anything resembling debt. Whether or not these men are independent mercenaries, the Yokudan Empire need not lower ourselves to the lesser men by relying on their devilry." It was Madara of the Samedi, the Yokeda without a domain. Without an Army besides the few within the Samedi who agreed with him, he stood to lose nothing no matter the outcome of this war. But he also had the least to gain, the confederation and northern badlands would most likely fall under him upon war's end.

His mask was a maroon interpretation of a man in a manic smile, the teeth jagged pieces of Vvardenfell glass, the eyes jade. It represented his people, the Samedi...no other meaning could be found in its madness. He wore all black, in clothes unfitting of a man of his station, or even of those from the Samedi, the wild witch doctors of the Hammerfell badlands.

Haroun, looked to the men in the room, murmurs began to belt out some for and against hiring the Altmer, Sobotai as expected seemed completely for the move. So two Yokeda for, two against. Hm.

If only Ruhk had brought this up prior to the meeting, perhaps Haroun could have made a decision all parties favored..after all one hundred men were nothing, but to go back on the word he had made in front of his Generals, ministers, and Yokeda would appear to be weakness and doubt within his own word. Unacceptable and because it was so, the Aldmeri would be hired. Here a man wielding more power than any within his Empire, was a slave to its politics.

"Your words have been considered, the Elves will bring no more men, this is not there war...it is ours. Have the mercenaries travel to Gilane."

Entering the room shortly after was Frandar, his massive beard loud enough to be heard.

He said nothing, appraising the table, he looked to his Godson, a questioning look in his eye, followed by an apologetic expression for being late to the war council.

Alinor
Elusmyr

As Elusmyr stepped out of the den, his eyes were assaulted by a beautiful and stunning cornucopia of colours and differentiating shades of light. Even in this downtrodden, shady part of the city, all colours of the rainbow and more burst from street and corner in an overpowering flow. Gigantic Towers rose high, disappearing into the clouds, and ramparts and nearly infinite flights of stairs and bridges connected them in a scintillating transport network. Carriages and horse riders moved across these crystal glass connections and ways, flanked by pedestrian citizens in refined robes and tunics. Alinor was truly the greatest city of Tamriel in the eyes of Elusmyr. He had spent a recent portion of his life here, but whenever he entered the city, his amazement and childlike fascination was still as strong as the first time he had gazed upon it's noble, glassy towers and kaleidoscope of colours.

Collecting himself, Elusmyr signaled for a carriage. He stepped in and laid back in the smooth, comfortable seat. "Blue Compound, by the way of Azindam." The carriage took off, and Elusmyr peered out the window at the streets, which seemed to dance with constantly changing colours. Green, blue, gold. Eventually the carriage slowed, and with shouts, the driver pulled it to a stop. Elusmyr handed the driver his fare, and stood out, his feet clicking on the glass-like material of the street. He entered a great gate of metal and glass, and into a courtyard where men were dueling and practicing magery. This was the military compound where the mage company was lodging and training in preparation for it's mission. Several mages bowed to Elusmyr as he walked through the courtyard and into the building proper. He walked to the room of Tarvinas, one of the more high-ranking mages of the company. He was sitting at a simple, wooden desk next to his bed, writing something.

"Attention." Elusmyr spoke, and the elf stood up.

"You are to assemble the company in the courtyard for inspection and orders. Troops are to prepare for departure and be in full battle gear, and to have all of their equipment prepared."

Tarvinas nodded without a word, and left his room. Elusmyr walked over to Tarvinas's desk, and looked at what Tarvinas had been writing. It was merely a letter to his family of no interest. Elusmyr made a habit of keeping a knowledge of the actions of most of the mages in the company, and to monitor their views and situations. He looked through the other papers on the desk, and then left and went to his own quarters. Slightly larger and more furnished than Tarvinas's quarters, he had an armchair to recline in, as well as a larger desk. He had a chest at the foot of his bed and a large wardrobe on the opposite end of the room. A lone window provided a view of the city. A mirror stood next to his wardrobe.

Falling into his chair, Elusmyr let out a deep sigh. He sat with his eyes closed for a few minute, and then arose, and began changing into his battle robes. His emarald robes were fine but practical, and bore his family symbol on the left briast. He slipped on his belt, and tied to it his silver dagger in it's scabbard. He adjusted himself in front of the mirror, and packed a chest with clothes, books and silver. He got his satchel, and filled it with his spellbook and notebooks, and finally felt ready to leave.

Elusmyr entered the courtyard to find 88 mages and 10 knights standing ready in a variety of uniform and armaments. He stood and addressed the company.

"In four hours were are leaving Alinor by ship. Be completely prepared. Mage Commander Alkaran will be arriving very soon. You will all be in top shape for his return. So prepare yourselves now."

Ruhk, Amaru, Sentinel War Room

Ruhk took an observant look around the war room, each and every man bickering among themselves. He quickly turned to Amaru, confused. Amaru nodded towards his friend, then looked to the Elden Yokeda. The ansei spoke.

"Elden Yokeda, if I may speak."

Amaru waited before each and every man and woman in the room drew his attention to him, listening for him to say his wise words. Amaru's voice was driven by a powerful tone, as he continued.

"Haroun, by my own advice, do not send these elves to Gilane. They will not fight well with your soldiers. Ruhk had never intended such a thing, and now many of you bicker amongst yourselves against each other. This is not good."

Amaru turned to Baibars, clearly focusing on him for one particular moment. It was not made to be focused on speaking to him, but merely pointing out the situation at hand.

"Baibars' people are divided, much like ours have been for the past generations. This entire war is caused because of a divided people, which Haroun and Thassad have worked so well to unite. Every man in this room has fought the foreigners which twist the minds of our brothers and come upon our land in clear arrogance of their own pride. If our command is divided and does not trust another, we will lose this war. That, I can assure you."

Amaru walked over to Ruhk, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"This man does not give way or respect to the foreigners. He merely wants what is best for his people, and if it is not best to use Imperial coin to pay for these mercenaries, it will not be done. These Altmer will not be paid with the Empire's own treasury, nor will they interact with any of your men."

Amaru then turned to Haroun once more, eying the Yokeda.

"This will not be done, Haroun. Ruhk had no intention, even if they were to be hired by the Empire, that they would serve alongside the Raga. No. These foreigners will die at the hands of the infidels which invade our land."

The ansei then turned to Madara, letting out his own compromise.

"They will not serve by your men, Madara, but if Ruhk chooses to hire them by his own wealth, it his personal business, and whether you should know about it or not, the Altmeri devils will be no where near your men. With all due respect, Yokeda, these are not the things to worry about at this time. However, this topic should be dismissed now. For united we stand now, and if we are divided amongst ourselves, we shall fall."

Amaru closed, nodding over to Ruhk to say his words. The young Redguard spoke up amongst the Yokeda and generals around him, each and every one of them older than he was. Despite this, he was a veteran of war just the same, experiencing the same horrors of the last war as each and every one of them did. Amaru shook his head back at the Ansei, declining the offer to speak. Though he had more questions to be addressed among the council, it was best to let others issue their decrees and questions amongst each other first.

Sentinel War Room
Bomilkar Barca

Bomilkar's figure now stood composed like a granite statue, his arms folded and his eyes closed allowing darkness to envelope the room as the sounds of cloven muttering began to fill his ears. Already the men who would lead this nation they were building stood apart and ready to tear into each other even before swords were crossed with their new enemies. Responses of discontent were risen by simply the implementation of foreigners for the simple use of killing other foreigners, mutterings about the loss of honor when it wasn't even ra'gada dishonoring themselves by twisting the energy of Nirn for their own twisted uses. A heavy sigh now left his lips as Khan Baibars spoke up against the use of Altmer mercenaries and then strengthened by the support of Yokeda Madara who only furthered the divide between those who supported the notion of using infidels to kill infidels and those who saw it as dishonoring a nation that had barely existed long enough to call itself an Empire. Before he could speak the powerful voice of reason that was Amaru broke through the ripple of argument and commanded everyones attention. Opening his eyes Bomilkar focused on the sage like figure that was Amaru, a member of the ancient order of Loki and a man who both King and nomad could show nothing but respect for.

Seeing that Ruhk now declined the offer to speak after Amaru Bomilkar took the oppertunity, his voice booming with a tone that was harsh and firm. "We stand here bickering over something that is not even worth the breath it takes to curse our enemies." he began, focusing on the map before him and then the men around the room. "Look at yourselves, like children whining about who will be the first to be chosen for some game and the means by which to play it. Outside these walls lay a cunning and determined foe, one which will not hesitate to exploit and expose every weakness in an attempt to drive apart this union in which so many have spilt blood to build, and you would have it destroyed over weather or not to use the heathens own tactics against them.

The room was silent, but not for long as Bomilkar continued, his rage beginning to boil to the surface despite his best attempts to conceal it with the wisdom of elder he did not possess. "How many of you have ever seen a battlemage? ever felt the heat of a firestorm conjured from the very air we breath? ever watched entire groups of men wiped from existence with the wave of a hand or seen entire forests reduced to dust and sand before your very eyes?" these were questions he knew the answer to, most had probably never witnessed the shear destructive power an Imperial battlemage could conjure, and even fewer realized how wrong they were to assume that mere Ra'gada bravado could overcome something completely separate from the world they lived in.

His eyes now shot to Haroun, his message clear; it was time for Haroun to step forward and end this once and for all, no matter the decision, he was the Elden Yokeda, HoonDing manifested and without his absoloute and unyeilding command his Empire would die and fall around his ears before he could even claim the Ra'gada people as one. "I for one, am honored to serve you, my King, your word is law and as always, your will, my hands."

Rihad, Temple
Crixus and Lysandra

"What I give is not fact, but logic, one I hope you will take to heart." Crixus spoke carefully. "Haroun looks at this war as the pinocle turning point in the war for Hammerfell. The neutral states are weary of both Haroun's Empire and the threat the Knights of the Nine now posed to their new found freedom. To gain their support, he has to prove that he has been given the divine right to rule by the God's, and the means removing all perceived infidels from Hammerfell's borders. An move through the neutral states would be the most tactically sound, presenting a war on two fronts for the Confederation, but he wont due that as it will lessen his image in the eyes of those who but sit on the fence and await the dust to settle." Crixus cleared his voice as he straitened his posture and continued to look around the room. So close he thought to himself Theres no turning back now.

"Again, it is but logic to expect a blockaid of your ports. The Imperial Navy is led by a man by the name of Prothro'ra Donovan, a veteran of the War of the Wolves and in some circles, the reason Haroun was able to break the siege of Sentinel. If I know him, he will seek to cut you off from all avenues of escape and put a strangle hold on revenue and supplies arriving via the sea. One thing you can count on is a supreme show of force by the Yokudan Empire, a flexing of muscle to show the rest of country who is truly the ruler of Hammerfell. I can say with confidence that this will be the most likely avenue of attack...although you may benifit from a first strike, but it must be done quickly."

Crixus now traced a line towards the city of Gilane and its surrounding areas. "The Empire is not united in the sense that everyone falls behind the Elden Yokeda without question. The Empire is divided into feudal lords who raise their own armies in defense of the Empire, this makes mobilization relatively slow. The Barca Khan and Yokeda lies directly across from Taneth and these farmlands will be essential for maintaining of the war effort. If you strike now, you may be able to catch them off guard, but if you wait, you might as well stick to your walls and hope to wait out their siege.."

Crixus began shifting uncomfortably and walked towards the door before turning back to Lysandra. "I hope that this information will be sufficient?"

OOC: I hope you don't mind me character controlling Crixus a bit in this post and having him leave for the sake of a longer post, just say and I'll edit it out.

Rihad Temple
Lysandra

"Yes, that makes us even I believe." Lysandra nodded. "I will have your people sent to the specified location as soon as they arrive here, though don't be surprised if I'm not there in person. I can assure you that the knight I'll send is entirely reliable for this kind of matter. Goodbye, mister Nakute; it was a pleasure talking with you."

With the soft thunk of the doors as the aged author close them behind himself, the battlemage leaned back in her chair, looking at the map that had just been used to inform her of the most likely movements of the Yokudan military. Of course those weren't stone-hard facts, merely suppositions - the order's command could've made their own. However, she had a reason to believe Crixus more than whatever the knights could've come up with - he was a man from the upper tiers of the Yokudan Empire. He knew the High King and his closest and his suppositions were based on peoples' characters as well as some knowledge, instead of simple mass guessing about the enemy's goals and methods based on what they had used in the past.

Ah, Crixus Abu Nakute. Think the business between us done if you will and forget this ever happened, but you've just handed me a weapon. I wonder what your superiors would think were they to catch wind of this transaction of ours and lay eyes on your signature; would they be fascinated by one of their own turning people in to the Knights of the Nine? Or would their hot heads be more willing to listen after you explained that you simply sought vengeance and then elaborated on the price you had to pay for it..?

Sighing contendedly, she stood up, folding the map and placing it under her belt. This was quite important information here, though personally she wasn't at all interested in its contents, merely the implications of possessing it - she had only been in Hammerfell for a short while, and yet Paralictor Lysandra was already proving her worth that had become apparent in the Imperial City. Maybe I can get something good out of this. More trust and respect, more sway with the command... Perhaps a favourable stationing somewhere that would have a better opportunity to use my rank in the order to increase my personal resources than Rihad.

She'd need to see Stanet about it, that's what the Nibenese thought as she motioned over a Layman, intending to order him to inform Aman to deliver the people she requested to the specified meeting spot and send one of the local servants to Montblanc's estate immediately afterwards to inform Crixus that his prey was about to be handed to him (it would've been rather careless of her to send a member of the Knights to inform the author, as the order and the Yokudans residing at Montblanc's estate had very little reason to get in touch with one another with the current situation). Regardless of her personal feelings about the Knight Commander, he was the general here, after all, and was the one to go to with such information.

OOC: Squid, for convenience could you just have someone inform Stanet during his current mercenary meeting (which seems to be concluding anyway) that Lysandra wants to see him, that would save me from having to make a very crap post.

The Lusty Lady, Rihad Docks

The hulking Argonian named Bahleez stood on the docks, observing his crewmates loading several crates of supplies into the ship when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned around to find a brown-haired Imperial child hurrying up to him. He crossed his arms as the child said with contempt, "I'm here to deliver this letter of marque to your captain."

Bahleez stood quietly for a moment, observing the child. He was young, and the contempt he had allowed into his voice earlier showed that he probably came from a privileged background. No street rat judged pirates harshly, as they knew that they were no better. But the entitled people . . . they were the ones that dared to judge, even when they were worse than pirates were. In fact, the worst murderers Bahleez had ever heard of had been noblemen.

Bahleez replied gruffly, “Okay, kid. I’ll go get her.” Bahleez turned around and walked onto the ship, and into the Captain’s Quarters. He found Camille laying on her bed, reading a book with one hand and twirling a knife with the other. “Captain,” he said as she set her book down on the bed and sat up. “There’s a kid outside who says he’s got something to deliver to you.”

Camille smiled and replied, “Good. Tell the crew to pick up the pace and have the ship ready to head out within a couple hours, ‘kay?” Bahleez nodded and walked back outside. Immediately Camille heard him yelling at the crew, and she laughed. Good old Bahleez, she thought as she got up and replaced the knife she had been twirling in its sheath.

She walked outside and nodded at the crewmates that were scurrying around the deck, quickly preparing the ship to be back out at sea. She walked onto the docks and saw the kid that Bahleez had mentioned standing there. She smiled and walked over to him. “I believe you have something for me?” she asked. The child replied with a nod and handed her the letter of marque she had been promised. Smiling, she waved the boy off with the words, “Right. You can go now.”

Heading back up onto the ship, she headed to the mast. She held up the letter of marque, checking its authenticity. Satisfied by it, she pulled out one of her knives and stabbed it and the letter to the mast, right next to her ship’s articles of piracy and the sheet of parchment that bore the signatures of her crew, agreeing to said articles. Smiling, she walked back to her cabin and sat back down on her bed, waiting for the ship to be prepared to leave.

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

First Mate Jacob

Jacob had quickly given a tour of The Lusty Lady to Kraven and Shavaash, including showing them a room that wasn’t currently filled to capacity. He told them that they could stay there for however long they wished to travel on the ship. He then offered to continue the tour, and led them into a small hallway where he almost immediately ran into the Argonian from the other group of people.

“My bad, man,” he said, resting his hand on the ship’s walls. “Hey, I don’t think we were ever properly introduced. Name’s Jacob.” He held out his hand to the Argonian

Athanden, Rihad

The Knight Commander replied to Athanden's offer of 130 silvers,

"That price is much more reasonable. On behalf of the Knights of the Nine, I hereby hire the Crimson Blades to fight the Yokudan Empire. Return to your men and sail north to Taneth; it is there that we suspect the fighting will begin. We will send you the supplies you requested before you leave. When you reach Taneth, keep your men outside the city to the south, and send someone in to notify the Knight Commander there, Tarsius Vario, that I sent you. Accept whatever orders he gives you. Are these terms agreeable?"

Athanden smiled, even though the price was lower than what he wanted it didn't really matter in the long run.

"That seems agreeable, however there is one last thing. I would like to be payed upfront before we sail out. If this war were to take a abrupt turn and end before our contract reaches the four month mark I do not wish to go unpaid for my services. It is just a....matter of security, I hope you understand."

Draken Decumus Vladmirius, Sentinel.

Draken Decumus Vladmirius approached the vampire ancient. He had just completed a perilous task for him, he swelled with pride, sure that the ancient will now bestow even greater power upon him. The entire clan’s eyes are upon Draken, crimson red and glowing in the darkness.

“Have you done as I had asked?” the ancient hissed.

Draken knelt down in one knee and bowed his head. “It is done.”

“Rise and claim your power.”

Draken rose and began walking towards the dais to where the ancient stood. Draken realized that his task for him is actually unfinished. Something still needed to be done. In an instant, Draken saw this he no longer had his vampiric power. His strength, senses and abilities had left him. The Undead imperial gasped and then screamed as the entire clan descended upon him, and the ancient’s fangs rip into the flesh of you’re his throat, draining him dry as he did all of his prey.

The vampire awoke with a screeching hiss, fangs open in a fearsome gasping visage. He sat upright in his bed, arms coming out of his crossed-sleep position. Another nightmare that was one among many various that had plagued him for many centuries. Draken looked at his hands and saw that they were more pale than before. He found himself thirsty for blood. He longed to pierce the jugular vein of an unsuspecting victim. He got off the bed and sat on the edge, hands covering his face as he prepared to begin his night. His nails were increasingly larger and his features more pronounced. But he also felt stronger as well, with new dark vampiric powers at his disposal to unleash when the occasions calls for it. But it is not time to display his immortal prowess in public….not yet.

Walking over to the basin nearby his bed, Draken began washing his pale face and hands with the fresh water that laid on it. Blood would be ideal, but water shall suffice, Draken complained indifferently. As he washed his hands, he thought back years ago on who he was and who he is now. Years ago, in the waning days of the Third Era. A time of fear and a time of corruption. A time when the vermin known as the Dark Brotherhood worshiped Sithis. Where conspiracy flourished within conspiracy. And the only hope to end the Black Hand laid in the hands of histories’ most notorious killers. Shrouded in darkness, trained to master the art of death, The Scars killed their victims without pity. They delivered the fatal blow without mercy. And escaped to continue their campaign to topple the Dark Brotherhood. They were the true worshipers of Sithis and that was their creed. They were Assassins. Warriors. Brothers. Legends. The former Crimson Scar sighed as his memories faded. That was an age of glory that was quashed along with the leader; Gleywyn Blenwyth.

Draken walked around the entirely darkened room which was his temporary haven for his time in Hammerfell. He lit a red candle and removed a few coins from a small sack sitting on the table near the bed and placed the golden trinkets at the front of two statuettes of both Clavicus Vile and Molag Bal. The entire chamber was only lit by the crimson glow of the burning candlelight. Draken Decumus held his hands together in an namaste prayer and walked toward the stone carvings of his patrons. He bowed his head and gave a silent prayer and thanks to both of the Princes for his immortal life and stature and recited words of truth spoken by Molag Bal:

"Power is a far more tangible quantity than wisdom. To you whom We have seen Stalking at night by eyes keen. Transcendent of savages. Sating thirst sans avarice. Your coffers stay stuffed. By social graces robust. None know your nature; save Us. None share your fate; save Us. None welcome you as kin; save Us."

After an hour, Draken finished and noticed a letter slipped under the door of his locked room. In the darkness, Draken reached to grab it and saw that it was a concealed letter for him sent by a messenger. Draken opened the letter and saw that the pages were blank. He knew how to unravel the content within. And in planning so, Draken opened his palm and allowed a tiny spark of fire escape from his cold hands. The spark created a larger ball of fire revealed the invisible ink. The letters were finally revealed:

Greetings Draken. You have had your peculiar and awkward moments, but we are not displeased with the vampire you have turned out to become over the long and perilous centuries. You were born of a powerful efficacious heritage, the proud lineage of the Order, the greatest of the vampiric bloodlines of all of Tamriel. We are grateful for the information you have sent Our direction on the subject of the Yokudans and The Knights Of The Nine. We are aware of present situations you may face with the Selenu tribe. We are aware the problem they may cause you. Fear not, for if they threaten to begin a conflict against Us, they shall be destroyed like the pale worms they are. Do not hold back any valuable information. The Order will continue to watch your progress, and we may contact you from time to time on family business. Reveal yourself to none & preserve the Order.

~Yours in Death, R.V.

Draken folded the letter and hid it inside a drawer near the closet in the room. He knew it was still daylight and it would be foolish to walk around the building the way he was. To pass the time, the Imperial reached for his ancient katana near the bed and began training. He impaled, slashed and beheaded invisible opponents with the fencing prowess of a master. His martial skills surpassed those of most in the Empire. But his stealth skills and assassination were a bit rusty. He had plenty of time to practice here. He had all afternoon and a few hours before the night beckoned him to come out and continue his task.

Gilane
A man walked through the streets of Gilane, attracting attention not for who he was, but what he wore, what gleamed in the sunlight and reflected blinding beams at just the right angle. It was evident he was a knight of some fashion, as he clanked from the contact of steel plate on steel plate while walking amongst the cloth-wrapped Ra'Gada, who ruffled like the desert gusts over dunes. A full steel suit of armor set him apart, and he was further divided by a left arm encased in the blackest of metals, barely even shimmering in the midday sun. Ebony; hard to come by even in Vvardenfell, where it was mined more than gold, and made the hardest, strongest, most dependable armor mortal hands could ever craft. And from shoulder to fingertips, his entire left arm was covered in the gold-rimmed, dark material.

The man was obviously not a native, as his Bretonic skin and violet eyes looked far too out-of-place, and he seemed slightly lost as he wandered about. His dark chocolate strands of hair were matted to his face with sweat, at least those not caught up in the ponytail that fell to his shoulder blades, and beads of the salty perspiration shimmered across his face. Finally giving up with some sort of mumbled Nibenese remark that sounded oddly high-pitched for the six-foot man (something one could guess was 'ask for directions') he asked for directions to the nearest decent establishment, being rewarded with a curt answer and untrustworthy stare.

But Samuel Ross could see the man had no ill intentions, just distrust. His aura was too bright to mean harm.

Reading people had become easier, once Samuel Ross had unlocked the meaning behind the magic of Cloud Sky, the ring given to him by the Queen of Wayrest. It was interpreting Cloud Sky, and carefully incorporating this knowledge without suspicion, that was the tricky part Sam was getting acquainted with daily. He never took it off, as it ironically became tremendously useful in fending off the assassins that [censored] sent after him. Sam knew it was her who sent them, who else would want him dead than the paranoid Queen who he risked his own ass to save before he had been knighted? Only Queen Elysana could pulled such crap, but Sam wasn't making success easy.

He chuckled to himself as he followed the directions of the man to Meduza's Gaze, recalling the first time he killed an assassin from her. He'd dressed the body in the ceremonial tunic he had received during his knighting, and had the body sent to Wayrest by the mortician. The second assassin was given the wrist wrap bearing the white flower that was Elysana's symbol, and a letter in his dead hands for Queen Elysana, stating that he was thankful for the sparring partners and had "grown tired of the dress-up outfits. So here's the last of the clothes. I think I'll keep the sword and ring though, they are exquisite." Grinning, Sam stopped short when a sharp whisper alerted him to arrival at his destination. He discretely tapped the large pack at his waist before he entered.

The tavern wasn't too populated today, though there seemed to be a band of folks at one side. Sam noted instantly the Imperial Legionnaire armor, perplexed. He hadn't seen that design since he left High Rock nearly... Five months... No, had to be longer. Sam carried on straight to the barkeep, setting his ebony forearm on the bar to rest.

"You look like you just walked in from the dunes, boy." The barkeep commented snidely. Sam was used to it, and his body was surrounded by a soft cloud of faint off-white light, so he didn't worry over it.

"Close. I hiked here from Lainbon." Sam answered truthfully.

"Did you now? In that stuff? No wonder you look practically melting, fair-skin." The barkeep continued to comment, as if making conversation. Guess this place don't get much business. "That case, you'll be needing a room, a washtub prepared, something for the gut and something to wash it down, eh?"

"How'd you guess?" Sam asked half-heartily, deciding to amuse the barkeep with small talk. With Ra Gada, if they were willing to chat once and you denied them, Sam found they had a tendency to not want to talk again. And he made a point of trying to stay in the natives' good graces.

"If you come in here and you ain't Ra Gada, that's usually what you want." He answered with an 'that's obvious boy' tone. "You got the money, Breton?"

Sam thought for a moment, then rummaged through one of the outer pockets of his hip pack, pulling out some coins. Doing a momentary mental calculation to make sure he had the right amount of 'nobles' -or whatever the hell they're called- he set them down for the barkeep, who counted them off and then handed the man the key to a room. "What'll it be?"

Sam didn't answer for a moment, then sighed and gestured at the barkeep. "I'll take whatever you give me." The Yokudan he spoke was rugged and obviously needed work, which was why he kept it to short statements with the barkeep. But there was communication, as he understood Yokudan now despite being anything but fluent. It had taken a couple of months though. Ordering complete, the fatigued ex-knight took the room key and turned to an empty table, adjusting the ebony-hilt longsword hanging on his back before he sat down.

"Ain't ya glad I told ya to ask fer directions?" A voice whispered, ignored by Samuel as he sighed and rested his elbows on the table, looking around. I wish I kept that horse...

OOC: Not feeling it today. I am ready to get rolling!

Kurush Rizar, The Bleeding Rock

The young man smiled upon congratulations from his parent, hopping off the horse and patting the man before him on his shoulder.

"They were given hell, father. Every foreigner runs at the sound of the great thundering hooves of our tribe. Only one stood against us with the magick."

He looked over at his mount, noticing a slight burn on its side as it neighed in agony before him. The young nomad quickly pointed out the wound to his father.

"We've got to bandage him father, he is wounded from the magick."

Arethan Andas, Servyn Velthoi; Rihad Port, The Lusty Lady

Arethan watched closely as Swims exited the room, finding his way onto the ship's deck. As the Argonian had his back turned, Arethan gave him a keen stare, waiting several seconds in silence after the Argonian had left. Servyn found his own way to his feet, taking a quick pace over and closing the door. A quick flash of purple and yellow light hung in the air above the nob, just before a slight 'click' was heard. Servyn looked back at his friend, a worried look on his face.

"I don't feel comfortable sleeping with the scaled one. He's evil. I can see it in his eyes."

Arethan nodded in return to his companion, but made no effort to further stretch the conversation. He looked over towards Rithe, seeing the Dunmer's sad and haunting facial expressions. Arethan spoke up to his new partner, hints of grim anger still apparent in his voice.

"Rithe."

Arethan stopped, waiting for the Dunmer to acknowledge him before continuing.

"The stone. What is it?"

Alkaran Kolandril; Alinor, Courtyard

The Altmer made his way into the court yard, approaching his right-hand man who stood before him.

"Elusmyr. The men are ready, I presume?"

The elf continued before letting his comrade respond, pointing back towards the docks from which he had came.

"The communications shipment is in. Had I know it arrived earlier, I would notified you. Here are your copy of the instructions. We've got no time to waste. Get the men gathered at once. And we'll be heading off. I will prepare the goblins."

Alkaran handed the piece of paper to his Altmeri brother. It read:

Communication System:
5 men in every squad. Platoon is four squads, which means 20 men a platoon twenty men. Each squad member has a crystal cube linked to the main squad channel. Squad leader has a cube with a link to each of his four squad members, his platoon leader, and Elusmyr. Each Platoon leader has an additional cube with three links to each of his squad leaders. He has one link to Elusmyr, one link to Alkaran. Keep in mind that each platoon leader is also a squad leader, meaning that they carry one of these small crystal cubes. Everyone has six sided cubes. Elusmyr and Alkaran have balls which channel more, but can still only talk to 6 people at once. Each squad has a communications officer who has an emergency crystal with a direct line to Alkaran. If his squad leader is killed and his crystal is unrecovered, the emergency crystal is used to announce the line of communication has been broken. It is also used to announce emergency developments directly to Alkaran if the Squad -> Platoon -> Alkaran chain is disabled.

Stanet Terentius, Rihad Keep

"That seems agreeable, however there is one last thing. I would like to be payed upfront before we sail out. If this war were to take a abrupt turn and end before our contract reaches the four month mark I do not wish to go unpaid for my services. It is just a....matter of security, I hope you understand." responded Athanden to the Knight Commander's counter-offer.

"It's a deal, then." replied Terentius, a little surprised that the mercenary leader would so openly reveal his doubts to a potential employer. "Your men will each be paid 130 pieces of silver before you set out." Stanet paused for a moment. "And I appreciate your confidence."

Sarcasm ran in the family, and it was one of the many reasons why the Terentii were the most hated family in Cyrodiil. Their sarcasm was not of the light or humorous variety; it managed to be both bitter and smug at the same time, a puzzling and infuriating combination. Quintus Aventurnus shot Stanet a glare, embarrassed that his commanding officer would even respond to Athanden's lack of faith, much less in such a snide manner. Why would the Divine Crusader let anyone from Bravil into such a high position, wondered the Lictor.

Stanet and Quintus both heard a quiet knock on the chamber's double doors. The Knight Commander turned back to the door and spoke in a loud and authoritative voice.

"Come in."

A Redguard dressed in a white shirt with a red diamond, the garb of a Layman messenger, opened the door. He was slightly out of breath from the journey, although he tried his best to speak without impairment.

"Paralictor Lysandra Mara would like to see you, Knight Commander."

"Well, then, Layman, tell her that if she wants to speak with me, she can come here. I wasn't planning on leaving any time soon, anyway."

Arrogance. Another trait that had led to the widespread hatred of the Terentius family. Aventurnus thought he heard the messenger mutter something as he walked out, but it was probably his imagination.

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As Swims-in-Shadows left the room, he thought he heard a spell and the click of a lock behind him. I hope they know that the door only exists because I allow it to. He didn't bother to do anything about it, though; he didn't want to be in the room anyway. He needed to find more interesting people than the Dunmer or Alaudis. The new Bretons might have proved promising entertainment, but the fact that they were new to the group had made Swims want to leave before he had to speak to them. They would probably want to know all sorts of things about the mission, and answering questions made the Argonian even more irritated than usual.

As he turned the corner into a small hallway, a young but obviously formidable Redguard man bumped into him, with the Khajiit and Imperial following behind him. Swims' initial reflex led him to step back in alarm and reach for his dagger, but he quickly saw that it was an honest mistake. Still, he didn't believe in apologies, so he remained silent.

“My bad, man," said the Redguard as he placed his hand on the ship's bulkhead. “Hey, I don’t think we were ever properly introduced. Name’s Jacob.” the man extended his hand to Swims.

I suppose "man" beats "lizard." Already better than my companions. Swims paused for a moment, staring at Jacob. Right. You're supposed to shake his hand. Stupid mammal social rituals. The scaled bandit reached out with his armored hand, grabbing the outstretched appendage of the ship's first mate.

"I'm Swims-in-Shadows. And who might you two be?" he asked, looking at the armed Khajiit and Imperial.

Rihad Keep
Lysandra

The battlemage was just entering the courtyard of the keep when she bumped into the same Layman she had sent ahead to inform the Knight Commander, though she didn't really recognize him as such until the rather fatigued Redguard spoke:

"Ah, Paralictor Lysandra. The Knight Commander says that you are to meet him at the keep, as he has no intention of leaving it anytime soon." Seeing Lysandra raise an eyebrow in obvious dissatisfaction at the tone of this message, the Layman quickly added onto that. "Knight Commander's exact words, Paralictor, not a single one added by me. He was in the same room that hosted the diplomatic council."

"I see. Thank you, Layman." She lost interest in the Redguard as soon as he moved past her; whatever the case was, the message did sound like Stanet's style. There was little wonder in the fact that his family was widely considered the least liked - or most hated, depending at how you looked at it - of all the noble families in the Nibenay and quite possibly all of Cyrodiil as well. The counts of Bravil seemed to have evolved as a family to be as unlikeable as possible, with family-wide traits that encouraged hatred from their peers, which in turn lead to disdain and mocking in not too hushed tones as soon as the fortunes of the city and its rulers began to turn.

As she hurried her step a bit, however, Lysandra did not linger on her Knight Commander's lack of amicable qualities. I wonder if he'll even pay attention to Crixus' information. He might as well not; then, after he goes and costs the order Hammerfell, I can tell the chaptermasters what moron exactly was it that dismissed advice stemming from the High King's circle and who was trying to be the voice of reason. It'd be rather interesting to see how far the Terentius name carries one when life takes a turn for the worse. Though I expect he of all people would know that lower ranking Nibenese can be just as, if not more dangerous than those in high places. I'd have to prepare rather than just improvise through it... If it does come to that.

Finding the council room wasn't all that hard, if a bit harder than the first time thanks to only having been to the keep as many times before as she had been in the room itself. With no bustle to guide her, it took a slight bit longer to locate it, but nevertheless in no time at all the Paralictor entered the room for a second time in much the same manner as she had during the diplomatic council with the Yokudan delegation, silently closing the door behind her after preceding her entrance with a short knock.

"Knight Commander, Lictor." Lysandra performed a small bow in the general direction of the two men in the room that she knew - one was obviously Stanet himself, the other she recognized as Quintus Aventurnus, a Lictor of the order. "I believe you've already been informed, Commander Terentius, that I have a bit of a matter to discuss. Though I wasn't informed you were otherwise preoccupied with guests." The battlemage nodded at the sole mer in the room, a middle aged Dunmer that she didn't recognize. "An honour." The whiff of a mocking undertone present whenever she spoke strengthened just barely. Presumably one of the mercenaries.

"I hope your business will not take much longer yet? The matter I'm here concerning might prove rather important." Perhaps this was slightly untactful of her, but Lysandra had little interest in sitting about and listening to her two superiors in rank negotiate with some or other mercenary, and she had even less intention to discuss what Crixus had told her in front of said Dunmer. Loyalty wasn't exactly a mercenary's strong point more often than not, they didn't need to know more than absolutely neccessary.

Athanden, Rihad

A slightly surprised look struck both of the Knight's faces as the Commander replied,

"It's a deal, then. Your men will each be paid 130 pieces of silver before you set out." The Knight Commander paused for a moment before continuing, "And I appreciate your confidence." His voice was heavy with sarcasm.

Athanden grinned slightly as he replied, "Like I said Commander, it is but a matter of security." Then there was a quiet knock on the two large wooden doors to the room, the Knight Commander turned around to face the door,

"Come in."

A young Redguard came into the room, he was obviously of a low rank and was almost out of breath.

"Paralictor Lysandra Mara would like to see you, Knight Commander."

The Knight Commander replied to the young layman, "Well, then, Layman, tell her that if she wants to speak with me, she can come here. I wasn't planning on leaving any time soon, anyway."

He could easily pass for one of my kin with that kind of arrogance. Athanden thought jokingly as he watched the young Redguard leave the room. Shortly afterward another knock on the door came and a young Imperial woman stepped into the room. Athanden could barely sense it over the aura of his own battlemages but there was definitely a shift in the rooms feeling as the young Imperial entered. She approached the Knights and bowed,

"Knight Commander, Lictor. I believe you've already been informed, Commander Terentius, that I have a bit of a matter to discuss. Though I wasn't informed you were otherwise preoccupied with guests." The Imperial Knight looked over towards Athanden and his battlemages."An honour." Athanden nodded his head, he had no love for Imperials, being of Redoran descent his people still remembered when they fought off the invading legions of Tiber Septim's Empire. "I hope your business will not take much longer yet? The matter I'm here concerning might prove rather important."

Hmph, this one could pass as kin also haha Thought Athanden as the Imperial woman subtly stated that she didn't want his presence in the room.

"Well it just so happens that our business has been concluded." stated Athanden with a slight grin. He stood from his seat and motioned for his guards to follow.

"Good day Knight Commander, Lictor, Paralictor." He said as he nodded to each Knight and walked past them. The large wooden doors made a resonating thud as they closed behind Athanden and his guards. The proceeded to retrace their steps once again until they found themselves in the courtyard of the keep. Athanden motioned to the guards near their horses. After they had mounted they began to ride down the long narrow bridge back into the bustling city of Rihad. After navigating the throngs of people that crowded the streets Athanden and his guards made their way down the winding dusty road to the coast where the Crimson Blades had made camp for the night.

Athanden rode through the lines of tents until he was insight of the large crimson tent that sat in the center of the other. He dismounted his horse in front of the tent, one of his battlemages took the reigns and led it to the stables as Athanden entered his tent. Inside was a large table with a very detailed map laid upon it, along with a very nice cot and many of Athanden's personal items. Aryn was standing next to the table looking at the map in deep concentration.

"The Knight's will be delivering 806,000 silvers tonight, along with supplies. We will start loading up within the hour." Said Athanden as he approached the table. Aryn looked up with a smile on his face.

"Ah so you convinced them to pay you upfront? That will make things much less complicated later. However I still don't think this will work out the way we have planned, there are bound to be complications."

"Aryn, trust me, this will work." Athanden moved over so he could get a view of the coast along Rihad. "We are to sail from here." he pointed at their current location just north of Rihad. "Up to Taneth to assist Knight Commander Vario." He traced his armored finger along the coast up to the port city of Taneth. "Knight Commander Terentius said that we are to do as he says." Athanden backed away from the table and crossed he arms as he looked the large map over. "Anyways have the men assemble and load onto the ships, we sail as soon as the supplies get here."

Aryn gave a short bow, "Yes Serjo." then walked out of the tent.

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

Rithe, The Lusty Lady

Rithe's concentration was broken when Arethan spoke,

"Rithe."

Rithe looked over towards the two Dunmer that shared the room with him. He could tell by Arethan's voice that he was still slightly upset.

"That stone. What is it?

Rithe's attitude quickly changed as he started to reply, his voice slightly but clearly hostile, "It's nothing that concerns......" Damn it Rithe, if you want them to trust you you're going to have to be open to them and not withhold information. After all if he is as powerful as he seems then he will need to know about this at some point... Rithe sighed, his attitude turning back to it's normal calm and relaxed manner,

"It is a....soul gem of sorts, a trinket of Mephala." Rithe took the stone back out from his cloak, holding it in his hand as he spoke.

"It was made to torture those who's souls dwell inside it, a punishment for the enemies of Mephala." Rithe rolled the stone over in his hand.

"I have lost count of how many are trapped within it's prison, one hundred, two hundred, only Mephala knows." Rithe placed the gem back into his cloak. He hated the gem, it was a constant reminder of his slavery to Mephala. As well as the source of his pain and sorrow, it not only tortured the ones it held captive but Rithe as well. It haunted him with gruesome memories of the lives he had taken for the Daedric prince.

Rithe looked up at Arethan and then back down at his hands, a somber expression on his face.

Arethan, Servyn, The Lusty Lady

Arethan took a peculiar look at Rithe's face, drenched in slavery and suffering. It seemed the Dunmer who had joined them was a mortal bonded to Daedric chains by his own choice, fooled by a demon. The waters of sadness seemed entrenched in the assassin's mind. The older Dunmer leaned back slightly, entering a thoughtful state.

He's like a slave, a mere tool to destroy those who oppose a Daedric lord. It leaves him miserable. It seems he would rather die.

Arethan looked towards the Dunmer again, his voice entering a calm and serious conscience.

"You're a slave...to Mephala?"

Servyn stood by calmly, observing Rithe with a sorrowful look. His mind also looked thoughtful, as he sorted out the expressions before him.

Perhaps there is a way to free him...

Rithe, The Lusty Lady

Arethan's voice had changed, it was no longer aggressive, it now carried a more mellow tone,

"You're a slave...to Mephala?"

Slave, the word echoed through Rithe's mind bringing forth images of pain and suffering. It is truly what he was, the more he thought about it the more the word cemented itself in his mind. He had been so foolish to believe that Mephala would truly help him since he was a member of her order, and now he has paid the price.

"Yes." replied Rithe, his voice carrying a sense of melancholy and calmness.

"At first I believed the Daedra to be true to her word, to allow me to be free after I had been in her service for a years time. However as soon as she branded me with this," Rithe lifted his head and pointed at the black hand that was on his face, "I knew that the terms of our agreement had been changed. I heard her voice in my head, taunting me, telling me that I belonged to her now."

Arethan, Servyn, The Lusty Lady

"At first I believed the Daedra to be true to her word, to allow me to be free after I had been in her service for a years time. However as soon as she branded me with this," Rithe lifted his head and pointed at the black hand that was on his face, "I knew that the terms of our agreement had been changed. I heard her voice in my head, taunting me, telling me that I belonged to her now."

Arethan's eyes widened as he looked towards his old companion. Servyn followed with a grim look, returning a nod to the ex-Her-Hand. The younger Dark Elf spoke up, following his own thoughts.

"We've made a deal with Vaermina. Serosi's life a nightmare- for the skull of corruption..."

It only depends if the Daedra keeps her part of the bargain. We could be betrayed just like Rithe was...but no...it couldn't happen that way.

Servyn continued to scan the past for clues, continuing.

"We were told Serosi and the tong were after Arethan-"

"But it appears he has only moved farther away."

Arethan cut Servyn off before he could finish. The young Dunmer nodded again in respect. Servyn looked back toward Rithe.

"He is either mistaken, or the Daedra has lied to us."

Arethan's face shot down, looking for the stone to scowl in his direction. It said nothing. On closer inspection, it had disappeared once again. The former servant of Helseth took a close observation at the horror of Rithe's own stone before him.

It appears we've both been cursed with stones.

Servyn continued, "Is there a way to free you?"

Rithe, The Lusty Lady

"We've made a deal with Vaermina. Serosi's life a nightmare- for the skull of corruption..."

So that is their reason for tracking Serosi....odd, what does Vaermina want to do with Serosi? And why is Mephala helping her find him?

The younger Dunmer began to speak "We were told Serosi and the tong were after Arethan-." but was cut off by Arethan, "But it appears he has only moved farther away. He is either mistaken, or the Daedra has lied to us."

Servyn began speaking again as Arethan finished, "Is there a way to free you?"

Rithe looked up quickly at Servyn, Maybe this isn't such a far fetched idea after all, if they are willing to help without me even asking them then it's worth a shot.

"There is a way....however I have not worked out all of the details." Said Rithe with disappointment. "I have been formulating a plan over the past year, however it is very complicated and requires knowledge that only very few would know.."

Rithe adjusted himself on the bed so that he was facing the other two Dunmer. "The only way to break my bond with Mephala is my death, which thanks to the Daedric Prince is not plagued by age nor disease. Therefore theoretically I would have to die and be revived to break the bond." Rithe brushed a few strands of loose hair back from his forehead.

"I have worked out the first parts of the process, however I am missing two vital pieces. One which may be sitting in this room." Rithe motioned towards Arethan.

"You see I would have to be killed, and my soul trapped in a suitable stone or gem." Rithe pointed toward where the stone hung around his neck. "However there would need to be a powerful mage present to preserve my body." Rithe nodded in Arethan's direction.

"This would take a great deal of magicka though. I know of only one source that contains such power." Rithe once again pointed at where the gem around his neck hung."You would have to absorb the power from the gem, kill me, trap my soul within a gem, and then cast a spell that would immediately restore my body to working function and keep it in a state of stasis. After that I don't know what to do. It would require someone of great knowledge to come up with a way to place my soul back into my body."

Rithe looked back down at his hands, sadness taking him again. "There is only one person I know that could possibly have the knowledge to perform such a task."

Arethan, The Lusty Lady

"There is a way....however I have not worked out all of the details." Said Rithe with disappointment. "I have been formulating a plan over the past year, however it is very complicated and requires knowledge that only very few would know.."
"I have worked out the first parts of the process, however I am missing two vital pieces. One which may be sitting in this room." Rithe motioned towards Arethan.

So he wants us to help after all...

"You see I would have to be killed, and my soul trapped in a suitable stone or gem." Rithe pointed toward where the stone hung around his neck. "However there would need to be a powerful mage present to preserve my body." Rithe nodded in Arethan's direction.

...And I can't believe he would already trust me with such a task, to kill him and preserve his body. He has been with me only for hours, already asking for dire help. He must really be a slave, a miserable being.

"This would take a great deal of magicka though. I know of only one source that contains such power." Rithe once again pointed at where the gem around his neck hung."You would have to absorb the power from the gem, kill me, trap my soul within a gem, and then cast a spell that would immediately restore my body to working function and keep it in a state of stasis. After that I don't know what to do. It would require someone of great knowledge to come up with a way to place my soul back into my body."

And he expects me to absorb the souls of the dead in order to preserve his own?

Arethan's face was overcame with a confused and grim expression, studying the stone that hung beneath Rithe's head.

Hundreds of souls...it must be powerful, the potential such a stone could have.

Servyn wore a concerned mask upon his skin, going through his own thoughts, looking towards the mer who was his master.

Perhaps we may be able to free him, but I doubt Arethan will do so freely. He will expect some type of help, something in return.

Rithe looked back down at his hands, sadness taking him again. "There is only one person I know that could possibly have the knowledge to perform such a task."

Arethan squinted over, curiosity overtaking him.

"And whom might this be?"

Rithe, The Lusty Lady

"And whom might this be?" Asked Arethan. Rithe looked back up,

"I was born and raised in the Telvanni city of Sadrith Mora, there were many mages there, a few very powerful. I know for a fact that Lord Fyr could perform the task, however I doubt that he has even left his tower in the past 800 years. There was however a younger mage that frequented the city, his name was Aryon. As far as I know he took the title of Archmagister just after the Nerevarine killed Dagoth Ur. I heard that he had come to Hammerfell during it's secession from the Empire."

Arethan, The Lusty Lady

"I was born and raised in the Telvanni city of Sadrith Mora, there were many mages there, a few very powerful. I know for a fact that Lord Fyr could perform the task, however I doubt that he has even left his tower in the past 800 years. There was however a younger mage that frequented the city, his name was Aryon. As far as I know he took the title of Archmagister just after the Nerevarine killed Dagoth Ur. I heard that he had come to Hammerfell during it's secession from the Empire."

Arethan's eyes gave hold to a peculiar look, searching his vast memory for any kind of information. Day after day with King Helseth's forces moved through his memory, searching for any hint that Aryon had made his way to the Raga's homeland. Ironic as it was, Arethan did not know that Aryon was actually the one who had constructed Swims-in-Shadows' gauntlet, and that Serosi had then, in turn, fixed the gauntlet more than a year ago.

"Arethan."

Servyn spoke up, as the older elf looked towards his partner. Servyn still held a disappointed expression tightly to his face.

"Aryon came over with Helseth, and then betrayed him and took a place in Haroun's court."

It amused Arethan that Servyn remembered it all so clearly, even though he was less powerful than Arethan. The same cloud of shady and void darkness that overtook Arethan's memory did not do the same for the younger Dunmer, who was still quite old for his appearance.

Arethan had not known that Aryon had disappeared from Haroun several months ago, and at this very moment was with Serosi, in Taneth. He began to forge a deal in his mind, while Servyn continued to speak.

"It seems Aryon would be in Hammerfell at this very moment, but who knows if he would help, or even what his true motives are. It isn't common for the leader of a house to betray his own kind in exchange for a place in a foreign king's court, especially one that despises magick."

Cyric - The Lusty Lady

The rocking of the ship as it cut across the waters felt vaguely comforting, Cyric mused idly as he leaned upon the ship's wooden balustrade. Beside him Morgana's face was set in a distant expression as she stared blankly at the far horizon.

A pirate ship of all things. Why am I not comforted by this...

Cyric had met his fair share of sea-folk during his time in Sentinel. Of the pirates that he had had the misfortune of meeting, they tended to be either thickly blustery or deceptively cheery. Overall, pirate's certainly weren't as bad as most made them out to be, but still...

They're pirates.

His last meeting with one of their kind certainly didn't go all as smooth as Cyric would have liked. No, that had ended rather badly. Looking at all the men hard at work on the ship at the moment though... Well, Cyric was prepared to give this lot the benefit of the doubt, though he didn't have high expectations, on the other hand they didn't seem to be as bad as the last band of pirates he had met. His thoughts wandered back to the group that his sister had, for some inconceivable reason, decided to tag along with. They were a mysterious and murderously close-lipped group and they seemed to be in pursuit of a certain someone. It was reasonable to assume they also wanted him dead. Very dead.

It was a shame though, that none of the assassins were on the deck at the moment. Cyric wouldn't miss being able to ask a few questions. And besides, what was the worse that could possibly happen? The assassins seemed incredibly confident, perhaps even overconfident, they wouldn't be expecting too much from neither him nor Morgana. A flaw that he would exploit, if things came to that. With a sigh, he turned his gaze back to the ocean. Morgana was still looking distant and moody. Cyric knew by experience that it was no use trying to talk to her when she was in a mood like that.

Damn, what I wouldn't give to have someone to talk to...

Shavaash Opress & Kraven Desselius, The Lucky Lady.

Jacob gave them a room to stay for free. But he recalled the others offering to pay gold. He wondered if he too would have to pay coin in the last instant of departure. They stopped at the hallway of the deck where Jacob bumped into an argonian who introduced himself as Swims-In-Shadows. If these pirates tried something foolish, he would surely unleash his wrath upon them, even if his life would be greatly risked. Jacob seemed like a likable fellow, but all pirates were not to be trusted. He saw that Kraven took notice in this and was equally skeptical about riding with pirates. But he was more calm and collected as to the distrusting khajiit. They both felt the ship move and rock back and forth. Shavaash glanced at Kraven with his golden khajiiti eyes and sighed.

The long-haired Imperial was more concerned with the new arrivals that decided to hitch a late ride rather than the ones nice enough to offer one. They seemed a motley bunch of unfortunate men and women. But the Argonian and the Dunmer gave him greater concerns. Perhaps his animistic instinct told him they were not to be trusted. He didn't doubt it much, as they seemed dangerous and secretive--especially that Argonian. But like Kraven, most argonians held hatred for Dunmers. He didn't know if Swims-In-Shadows hated Dunmers as he did, but he did not ignore the possibility. He noticed how the argonian took a moment to shake Jacob's hand. In equal gesture, he took a long moment to answer him.

"The name is Kraven," he said "Desselius."

Shavaash frowned at his Imperial comrade and glanced over at Swims. "Shavaash Opress."

He was uncertain that it was a good idea to reveal his name to the argonian, as he could of easily given a false name. However, there is such thing as over anolyzing and speculating. Kraven saw Shavaash walk away with haste and he was left downstairs with Jacob and the Argonian. He awaited his response.

****

Shavaash brushed past them and went straight for the balcony above where the wooden balustrade was. As he climbed the stairs, he noticed a woman staring into the horizon, deep in thought. And a man who was equally silent. Shavaash walked beside the man and leaned on the wooden balcony. He was silent at first, but he saw them as they were--not a threat. He looked at the beautiful horizon and briefly thought about Elsweyr. He looked over at the man and smiled, showing a brief glimpse of his sharp teeth. "You travel to where?"

Rithe, The Lusty Lady

Rithe watched as Arethan thought, then Servyn spoke.

"Arethan. Aryon came over with Helseth, and then betrayed him and took a place in Haroun's court."

What? Why would the Archmagister of the Telvanni side with the Yokudans? It makes no sense, the Telvanni are mages and the Yokudans hate magick. Thought Rithe as he digested the information that Servyn had produced. The youngest Dunmer of the group continued,

"It seems Aryon would be in Hammerfell at this very moment, but who knows if he would help, or even what his true motives are. It isn't common for the leader of a house to betray his own kind in exchange for a place in a foreign king's court, especially one that despises magick."

I knew that Aryon was a radical within the Telvanni...but to go to the extreme of betraying his own kin? Especially for an empire on the opposite side of the continent...something isn't right here.

Rithe shifted on the mattress again before speaking, "The Yokudans obviously had something that he wanted, that is the only explanation that I can think of. But his reasons for betraying the Telvanni are not of our concern. It looks as though we will have to track him down, and the first place that comes to mind is Sentinel. However Serosi is in Taneth...."