Sentinel
Wilfred du Lombard; Adria du Lombard; Raphael Perevier

"Wilfred!"

Raphael turned his head away when the two young Bretons embraced warmly, apparently finding the scene distasteful. Quite the breach of ettiquette, no..? But I suppose everything is possible when you're the Flyte's pet marshall, even such displays in the middle of a Ra'Gada port. The diplomat couldn't say he disliked Wilfred, but he did find the Grand Marshall's quick ascension upsetting, and he was far from the only one. Advancement was viewed in a positive light in Anticlere, but advance too far, too fast and you became unwelcome in some circles.

A light smirk briefly passed over Wilfred's face as he turned to Raphael. "Cannot bear the sight of positive emotion, mister Perevier?" A slight mocking undertone could be made out - the Grand Marshall picked up quite well on why the nephew of Anticlere's archbishop turned away.

He smiled at Wilfred a bit too sweetly. "Not at all. Milady, an honour as always." The bow, however, bore no negative connotations as far as anyone could say, the brief flash of contained displays of how they each felt about one another over quickly, as such episodes tended to be in Anticlerian circles. Smile pleasantly and plot your triumph. The Grand Marshall suppressed a sigh as his wife curtsied to Raphael's greeting.

"Mister Perevier." Adria's voice was soft and pleasant once again, the happiness audible when she cried out to her husband contained. "I would wish you the grace of Mara, but the relatives of our Archbishop hardly need such wishes, no? I hope your uncle is well?"

Raphael nodded and smiled, this time his expression far more natural than the smile he gave Wilfred just a moment ago. The Grand Marshall's wife was quite a bit more pleasant to converse with for the diplomat than Wilfred himself. She hailed from urban nobility, as opposed to the Lombards - landowners in eastern Anticlere, whose land Wilfred had inherited with his father's passing just several months ago. The fact Adria was quite beautiful was also not in the last place - while her slightly snub nose, blue eyes and shoulder-length, slightly curly blonde hair were clearly Bretic, her darker skin tone and some of her facial features seemed quite Nibenese. The Gimigni family that she was born into were an adventurous lot (clearly displayed by Adria's brother Guillermo, one of the innumerable condottieri of High Rock), frequently travelling abroad; marriage with foreigners wasn't uncommon, nor were non-Bretic features making themselves evident in some generations.

"The Archbishop is well, yes, Mara willing." He glanced at the sky. "It is a shame, but I believe my ship is due to leave soon. Perhaps upon your return to Anticlere I might convince my uncle to set aside his duties to the divine and have dinner with your families?"

"That would be an honour, mister Perevier." Wilfred nodded. "I hope the sea is well on your way back, although," He looked at the clear sky overhead, only a handful of small white clouds wandering through it. "It doesn't seem like weather will be much of a worry. Grace of Mara on your way."

"Grace of Mara, Grand Marshall, I will relay our findings to the Flyte first thing when I return to Anticlere. Enjoy Sentinel, milady." With a bow, to which Adria responded with another curtsy, Raphael turned around and hurried off along the docks, eyes darting around as he looked for the boat that was suppose to take him back to the Mara's Hand. For a moment, the young Bretic couple watched the diplomat, however soon enough Wilfred wrapped his arm around Adria's waist, she did the same and the two began slowly walking towards the direction of the Imperial palace of Sentinel.

Rithe, The Lusty Lady

Arethan nodded in agreement with Rithe's suggestion then turned to their other companions as Servyn began to walk away.

"I'm going to find the Imperial. Leave me."

Arethan scowled angrily at the younger Dunmer. "Leave them to die! We've got to get out of here!"

"I will meet you on the water."

Arethan turned towards Rithe, obviously upset with Servyn, and motioned his head towards the water. Arethan cast a spell and then bolted for the side of the ship, disappearing off the edge. Rithe quickly followed as he channeled magicka to his feet then vaulted over the railing of the ship and onto the water, landing on it's surface. He looked toward Arethan,

"What do you think that is?" he asked as he pointed off into the distance. There appeared to be a good sized fleet of ships heading up the channel towards Taneth.

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Athanden, Just North of Rihad

OOC: bland post, just trying to get caught up

IC:

Athanden was looking over the large map in his tent when he heard the door flaps sway open. He turned to see Aryn walking into the tent.

"The supplies have arrived and the men and loading up the last of them as well as the few remaining tents."

Athanden smiled, "Good, have them load my tent as well. We're heading back to the ships."

Aryn nodded and then strode out of the tent. Athanden gathered a few of his things and then also left the dark crimson tent and walked out unto the small plain they had set up camp on. He and Aryn made their way back down the to beach which was bustling with soldiers and deckhands loading cargo to be taken back to the ships. Almost everything had already been loaded and very little remained on the beach.

Four battlemages approached Athanden and gave a short bow as they escorted him towards the boat that would take them back to The Leviathan. They boarded the vessel as a few of the deckhands pushed it off the beach and into the rolling surf. The ship rocked lightly as it made it's way back towards the massive figure of the Crimson Blades flagship. Once they reached the hull the same procedure as before was carried out to hoist the vessel onto the deck. Athanden and Aryn made their way to the captain's cabin.

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Athaden was looking over some paper when there was a loud knock on the door. He turned his head as he spoke,

"Come in."

The door opened to reveal the second mate of The Leviathan, a puzzled look was on his face.

"You might want to see this commander." He said as he motioned for Athanden to follow. What in oblivion could it be this time. Thought Athanden as he stood from his chair and walked out the door of his cabin, following Hromund to the bow of the ship. He pointed off in the distance as he handed Athanden a telescope. Athanden looked through the lens at what appeared to be a ship off in the distance, which was confirmed when he found it in the telescope. Athanden observed the ship, it looked as though there were some kind of battle going on on the deck. Then suddenly there was a bright flash of light as part of the ship was blasted away, seconds later there was a loud crack. Athanden looked closely at the ship which now appeared to be sinking.

"Hromund, sail towards Taneth as planned. We will send a vessel to investigate as we pass."

"Yes commander." Said the large nord with a bow.

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Cyrus, Sentinel

OOC: Another crappy post.
IC:

Cyrus turned towards Ruhk,

"I am sorry, but I must be going. I plan on mobilizing the Shi no Butai as soon as I return to Stros M'Kai." Cyrus placed his hand on Ruhk's shoulder. "See you on the battlefield my brother."

Cyrus then turned away and walked through the elaborate and astonishing halls of the Royal Palace until he found himself once again in the bustling metropolis of Sentinel. He walked through the celebrating crowds of people until he was once again at the docks. He boarded his ship as the first mate once again came to greet him,

"General." he said with a bow.

"Set a course for Stros M'Kai, take the quickest route."

The First mate bowed once again and set off, yelling orders at the rest of the crew to prepare the ship as Cyrus made his way into the captain's cabin.

OOC: Sobotai's description can be found with Ruhk's in the first thread.

Ruhk, Amaru; Sentinel

Ruhk smiled towards his general for a moment, just before a more serious look grabbed hold of his mask. He nodded ever so slightly, his mind still entrenched in the thoughts of war.

The Shi No Butai...Night Demons...

He had seen them many times before himself, being the head overseer of Stros's military and naval forces. While Ruhk was often seen as the governor of the island metropolis, his own father served more as that sort of figure. While Ruhk had his own political power, he always seemed to be more war minded than his father. That was all the boy had ever known since he had come of age.

Blood, Death, War...

His mind shortly drifted out into the memories of the night demons, quiet as the void, swift as the Alik'r. It would not be long before the religious knights had to face the demonzu themselves, where they would have to stare into the dark eyes of a crimson mask, eager to steal their very soul from its peaceful place.

"Haroun."

Amaru's voice rang through the room as the Redguard duo saw the Elden Yokeda himself emerge from the meeting room. It often amazed Amaru how the King seemed to have two faces: one being that of a Ruler, the other a friend. However, the ansei had not forgotten the king's third face. The face of a god.

The HoonDing...

Ruhk turned, snapping from his memories and thoughts. He glared over at his cousin, a smirk beholding his young face.

"Cousin. I have news of the Sword of A'tor. We've found its resting place."

Sobotai Sahara, Stros M'kai

"Sobotai. Admiral Donovan has arrived."

The Redguard watched from his tower as the graceful waters beneath him moved about. He could see the giant mass from afar, what was Donovan's fleet. The Redguard's face was filled with a smirk as he turned back to eye the Redguard knight who had just brought him the message.

"Very well, Rasu."

Rasu was a trusted man among the commanders of the great fortress known as Stros M'kai, the birthplace of Cyrus the Restless and the great Prince A'tor. Rasu, being the leader of the Order of A'tor itself, grinned back towards his commander. His tall frame stood above Sobotai's at 6'1, accompanied by a muscular build of sorts. His own cornrowed hair came down to his shoulders, black as a raven. His eyes were the same color of such a bird, piercing into the deep sunlight with a blackness as dark as the void.

"I will send a messenger to escort him here to the tower. He should be here no later than half an hour."

Sobotai turned back as the Redguard knight began to walk out of the room. He squinted his eyes, giving a keen, austere glare over towards the skilled swordsman before him.

"Tell him that he may bring whomever he desires here. I want no more than us two, along with he and his men, to meet here. The matter is urgent."

Rasu turned back, his own somber facial expressions apparent through the comforting, coastal air.

"The war?"

Sobotai nodded. A dim silence followed before Rasu proceeded to nod and find his way out of the tower.

Yes, Rasu. War...

Alaudis Archen - Aboard The Lusty Lady
---

Alaudis watched in utter dismay as his companions all leaped over the rail of the boat out onto the water. Despite the fact that the ship was rapidly sinking further and further, it was still a long fall from the galley's deck to the surface of the sea. The skies were slate grey, and the only thing one could see in all directions was a rippling vastness of blue. Realizing his folly in gazing out to sea, he looked back to find that six pirates of all different races and sizes had rushed from the lower decks and were now slowly closing in on him. Behind him lie the endless waters, before him an agonizing death at the tip of several rusted cutlasses. Alaudis had no delusions that the pirates would stop and listen to reason, so his mind began firing off as he took in the surrounding area, his heart pumping quickly as adrenaline shot through his veins.

I know they're tough, but I doubt they're very smart...

Alaudis extended his hand and opened his palm as a whirling sphere of flames shot forth from his hand. It flew slowly through the air and eventually hit one of the rope ladders leading up to the top of the mast. The ropes slowly began to catch fire and spread. The corsairs didn't even bother to look at where the magical attack headed, many of them were smirking. They thought Alaudis had missed. At this point, his opponents were obviously underestimating him, and he decided it was time to make a move. With an impressive quickness, he lunged forward at the pirate on the far left, silver dagger in hand. He thrust the sharp blade into directly into his throat. Alaudis whipped the blade back out, and blood poured from the wound like the water poured in under the deck. Wasting no time, he quickly spun around, armed hand extended, the tip of his blade slashed across a light skinned redguard's face, causing him to drop his cutlass and reel back in pain.The remaining four had figured out that the young Breton was not as useless as they had thought. They all rushed him together, bellowing fierce and angry cries. A masculine Nordic lass swung her cutlass with both hands form over head, and Alaudis held out his dagger to block the strike.

Dammit, I shouldn't have done that... He thought, as his blade was ripped from his hand by the force and clattered uselessly onto the wood and began to slide down toward the railing. But I still won't let them off that easily. Jumping backward, Alaudis put his wrists together and faced his palms toward the muscular girl. Bolts of white lightning flew from each fingertip and cracked across the air until they came in contact with her body. She twitched and shook and fell lifelessly to the floor. Her cutlass bounced and slid down the angled deck right to Alaudis' feet, and he snatched it up quickly. It was now that he noticed the rope ladders were fully ablaze and were beginning to set one of the masts and it's sail on fire. Three corsairs still remained before him, but he felt that he was already lucky to still be standing.

"It's been wonderful meeting you lads, but I'm afraid I won't be able to stick around any longer."

And with his final comment, Alaudis slid the cutlass through his belt and reared around, running toward the rail of the ship. The pirates took off after him, on his heels every second of the way. As he came within a few feet of the edge, the ship shook heavily and Alaudis dove forward. His body cleared the short wooden wall and sailed off into the night. He flailed his limbs and shouted loudly as his body whipped through the air. Suddenly, he felt a hard, slapping contact on his back. Alaudis choke and spat, but matter how hard he tried, he could not draw breath. He could see nothing, and he clutched his throat in horror as he sunk lower and lower into the depths of the sea.

Bomilkar's Apartment, Sentinel Palace
Bomilkar and Ashanta

Bomilkar's apartment in the Imperial Palace was small, but quaint and comfortable. Compared to the many other luxurious rooms reserved for the other Yokeda, generals and dignitaries Bomilkar's apartment was rather cramped, consisting of one large room with a fine mahogany desk and bed, but the most alluring feature to the desert Khan was large marble bath filled to the edges with steaming hot water. Bomilkar's robes fell effortlessly off his tired shoulders and slumped to the floor revealing his scarred and weathered figure before submerging his body in the water which almost immediately turned darker with as the dirt and grim from the desert slid its way off his chest, back, arms and legs. Closing his eyes the Khan slumped down against the back of the marble tub, allowing the water rise up to his neck before reaching out and pouring a small bottle of bath salt into the water. In the desert, water was too precious to waste on luxurious such a this, and it almost made him feel guilty that he enjoyed it so when others fought and died on a day to day bases just to find and procure it to nourish their bodies. It didn't matter, as a matter of fact, at the moment he didn't care, the steam seemed to not only ease his aching muscle and body but cleanse his mind of all cares, if just for a moment.

Suddenly a knock came at the door, yet Bomilkar hesitated for a moment before rising his muscular arms from the water to lift himself up from to sitting position in the tub. "Come." he cleared his voice, reaching for a towel that lay on the ledge of the table. Submerging it in the water he began to saturate it with soap, scrubbing his body of what soil remained before speaking again. "Bring fresh towels!"

Stros M'kai
Donovan and Sobotai

A white horse was always a fine way to make a good first impression Donovan thought smugly as one of the servants from the ship bowed down on his hands and knees before the Admiral and the fine white steed that stood before him. Like an every day event Donovan steped upon the mans back and crawled upon the horse with as much grace as any man could of his stature, but it didn't matter, his height was made up by his reputation. Flanking him was two guards of no real note, men who served with the fleet yet were trusted enough Donovan didn't mind letting them stair at his back while he road down the street following a messenger sent by the island lord. The port city continued to bustle despite the triumphant entrence of the Imperial Fleet in their harbor, though many continued to stop and stare at the sheer military might on display in shallow waters of their harbor. The rest of the city seemed to go on with business as usual, never minding the Admiral and his guards as they pushed their way through the crowds until finally reaching the fortified tower where Lord Sobotai awaited.

Entering the hulking structure Donovan marched like a conquering hero, his guards after him until they found the man they were looking for. "Lord Sobotai, Lord of Stros M'kai!" Donovan bellowed out, his arms jestured to the man before him. "It is an honor to meet you!"

Ashanta & Bomlikar, Sentinel.

Ashanta listened the call come from behind the door. She recognized the voice as Bomlikar. It was indeed the correct room. She was in the process of entering before he commanded to bring in fresh towels. Ashanta's hand stopped at the door, she yanked it back as she remembered. The towels, she thought as she quickly accelerated her pace back to the main quarters where the main bath room was in. She effortlessly found cleans towel sitting alone on a stand. She yanked it from it;s resting place and hurried back toward the room where Bomlikar was resting. She pampered her hair and her eye brows and face before entering the room. She took a sharp and deep inhale and entered.

For Ashanta, she had be a prime example for a healthy and clean duty, even if she was merely a servant. She went inside the room with brief hesitation. As she entered, she seldom gazed upon the comfortable room where Bomlikar had his stay. Ashanta looked around and found Bomlikar. She bowed slightly in respect to him and left the towels near the edge of the bath tub. She did not stare at the tainted black water, but instead her gaze was at the marble floor of the room. She felt humble. Some servants secretly chastised working for their masters and elders, yet she felt peace in serving the commanders and leaders of war. They may appear hard-boiled, but many of them are fathers and brothers who fear death as much as the commonly folks. Some even expect it, and welcome it with valorous effort, promising to carry out their ideals and goals for victory in the war front for the people. True martyrs and examples of why people shouldn't mistrust their betters.


Her voice was simple and young. "Anything else you wish, Bomlikar?" bowed Ashanta.

Rihad

Crixus Abu Nakute was the informant. The Knight Commander was surprised to hear that the old Redguard author had betrayed his adopted nation so soon. But while Abu Nakute's turning had been a welcome surprise, Terentius was a little shocked and annoyed that Lysandra had dealt with Crixus without telling him. Who knows what else went on at that meeting between them? Has she given him more than she's telling me? But now was not the time for reprimands; the information was probably good.

"I see. And you only had to give up one of the conscripts?" Terentius tried to sound as impressed as he could, but it was easy to tell that the deal bothered him. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and he had hesitated before speaking. Something about giving a man and his innocent family up to a brutal death left a bad taste in his mouth, and as much as he wanted to hide that and seem like a tough and remorseless leader, he couldn't. If this information is wrong, I'll have both Crixus' head and hers. This whole thing is disgusting.

The Lusty Lady

Swims-in-Shadows approached the bow of the ship, readying the gauntlet to make a second hole in the Lusty Lady. This one would be sure to sink the ship in a matter of a minute or two, since the ship's forward momentum would force more water into the ship, flooding its lower decks in conjunction with the original hole in the starboard side. Swims braced himself against the front of the ship, allowing it to push him along without any effort on his part, and he placed his armored right hand against the keel, ready to tear apart the spine of the ship.

A loud splash off to the side of the craft caught the Argonian's attention. Must be more of the pirates trying to stop me. They'll regret their folly. He turned his horned head to see who had jumped into the green, salty sea water. To his surprise, it was only one person, without a weapon in hand, clutching his throat and thrashing about in the water. It couldn't be a pirate; one of them would know how to swim more effectively. A glint of light on the man's helmet finally clued Swims in to the drowning figure's identity.

It was Alaudis. The young Breton was sinking as he flailed uselessly in the ocean's rough waters. Swims-in-Shadows carefully pondered his choices, watching the drowning Breton idly for a moment. I don't like him. He always goes on about his morality and doing the right thing and all of that useless crap. And he doesn't like me, either. The Argonian looked away and prepared to start the second assault on the ship. But then again, he also doesn't like Rithe. And I don't like Rithe. He's a good mage, too, and not a bad archer. We might need him to help us fight Serosi. With a quick exhalation, Swims made his decision.

The Argonian propelled himself away from the Lusty Lady's hull with his feet, gracefully cutting his way through the water towards Alaudis like a slaughterfish. He crossed the thirty or forty feet between them in seconds and grabbed the Breton under his arms, dragging the drowning young man up towards the surface.

The Lusty Lady
Camille Leon

Camille smiled savagely as both the throwing knives hit the khajiit, an outcome that she hadn't expected. I thought Khajiits were supposed to be quick, she thought as she twirled Natasha in a quick half circle by her side. She quickly looked around, and saw the other intruders abandoning the ship by jumping over the side, and realized that she should do the same quickly if she wanted to live. However, she stayed focused on the Khajiit for the moment, as he apparently wasn't going to go down that easily. She watched attentively as he ripped out the knive from his flesh, and allowed more blood to start pouring out of his body. This guy's gonna be a tough bastard, I can tell that already.

He charged, leaping into the air with a roar, and raising his scimitar for a heavy attack on Camille. She realized that this was a fight where she couldn't afford to get hit. The Khajiit was obviously much stronger than her, and if he got even one good blow in, it would all be over for Camille. So she quickly rolled to the side and came up behind the Khajiit. Staying ready to leap back if he counter attacked, she aimed a heavy slash with Natasha at the Khajiit's back.

Cyric - The Lusty Lady

Cyric tensed in anticipation for the pirate's assault, they were taking their time, wary of the reach of Morgana's staff. And because they were certain that they'd overcome the pair.

Gods help me, if they don't start anytime soon I think I'll just drop dead from the excitement of waiting.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of waiting, the pirates launched themselves at the twins. The first to reach Cyric was a bald, bare-chested man, with the muscularity typical of his kind. The pirate made to slash at Cyric with his cutlass, but he met only air as Cyric fell into a crouch and lashed out at the pirate with his dagger. As the pirate leaped backwards to avoid the thrust, his head made contact with a stray swing of Morgana's staff, knocking him down. Cyric blinked in surprise and spared a quick glance towards his sister. Morgana was being harassed by a single pirate who was trying to approach her, but was being driven back each time by the swift sweeps of her staff. The third pirate was nowhere to be seen, and that worried Cyric.

A sudden, horrifying moan ran through the ship and not long after, Cyric felt the ship lurching beneath his feet.

What the hell! Is somebody trying to all of us? Cyric thought, Surely nobody would be wanting to sink the ship, not this far out at sea. They were, at least, a kilometre, probably more, from land. His thoughts turned to the group of assassins they had tagged along with. It seemed ludicrous that they would start a chaotic event like this, just to remove some unwanted 'luggage', but then again, it wasn't out of the question either,

Those bastards. They really have a flair for the dramatic don't they.

"Morgana! Some idiot's trying to sink the ship, we'll need to get to the life boats. On the far side!" Cyric shouted to his sister over the din, at that moment the third pirate appeared and all other thoughts disappeared as they clashed.

Morgana

Morgana gritted her teeth in concentration as the pirate tried to get closer towards her, keeping him back with the practised swings of her staff. The pirate himself looked frustrated, he clearly wanted to gut Morgana, yet he wasn't willing to test the solidity of the staff.

Can't keep swinging this thing forever. Looks like I'll be needing to use it after all.

Another sweep of her staff brought it into contact with a stray pirate, which nearly made Morgana stumble from the unexpected weight. Luckily for Morgana, the pirate harassing her was looking, if anything, more wary of her. He must have thought that Morgana coordinated the swing with Cyric. Now all she needed to do was free her hands so she could take the flash from her belt. Morgana swung her staff once more, only this time, she released it, sending it spinning towards the pirate. It was only a distraction of course, and it worked as the pirate momentarily turned his gaze away from Morgana to the staff so he could leap out of the way. As the pirate started to rise, a hard object impacted with his head with a shatter, a foul liquid erupting and covering him in the stuff.

The pirate however, seemed to be unaffected by the liquid, standing and turning a vicious glare towards Morgana. Two steps brought him halfway to her, but that was as far as he went. Sudden convulsions gripped the man, his cutlass fell to the deck with a dull clatter as it's owner howled in pain and horror. Two seconds later and his convulsions brought him tumbling over the balustrades and into the ocean.

Nightshade. Morgana recited numbly, Often employed by assassins and nobles. Known effects include convulsions, hallucinations, headaches, loss of vision and death.

Though Morgana had sold her fair share of potions, both legal and illegal to the denizens of Sentinel. It was horrifying to see the effects of poison, her poison, first hand. Cyric's voice intruded upon her thoughts,

"Morgana! Some idiot's trying to sink the ship, we'll need to get to the life boats. On the far side!", Morgana gave a slight nod and dashed towards the other side of the ship. The sight of a bloodied Imperial and a Dunmer, changed her destination to towards them and as she neared she said, her voice franctic,

"Where are you two going? How are you getting out?"

Sentinel, Halls of the Grand Palace

Amidst the masterfully carved halls of the Grand palace, the dire talks of looming war, his brothers arrival and a familial crisis, Haroun wanted but one thing- a sandwich. As he passed through the distinguished visitors who continued to converse outside the war room, a familiar voice called to him. His cousin, Ruhk, Prince of Stros M'kai...Haroun's favored city. A warm grin, given at the forgetting of previous thoughts, graced the Elden Yokeda's face. His cousin was brash, intense and passionate...things the Elden Yokeda loved to see in his people. Haroun had once had a wild temper...mastered through the facades of court. His wife and his daughter had helped him come along so far in controlling it.

Conquer yourself. And you can conquer anything.

"Cousin. I have news of the Sword of A'tor. We've found its resting place." Ruhk approached the Elden Yokeda as he walked, smiling carelessly.

Eyes widened at the revelation, Haroun of all people, loved his people's history and culture. Forget the power of an artifact...the sword would be of important benefit to the Empire in a historical sense, morale would rise if it were ever seen by the troops as well as that of his people.

He gestured for Ruhk to join him in his stroll to the kitchen.

"The Sword of Ator has been searched for...for centuries. It is no small task that you have found where it has chosen to rest. Tell me cousin, how long have you been searching for this?" if he knew Ruhk, personal investment had been put into the search. The family, was one of personal interest in the history of their people, tradition, and customs.

Already thoughts of sending an expedition into the area, financed by the Yokudan Empire itself lined the High King's head. Logistics would be of no concern to the King, one word and he'd have the task done. As he opened the doors to kitchen, smelling the hickory of an ever working oven, sweet meats and fresh fruit, he laughed aloud.

"You never cease to amaze me Ruhk."

The two sat at the kitchen counter, stomach rumbling from one...hoping to ease their minds off of troubling times.

Shavaash Opress, Lusty Lady.

Shavaash attacked forth with a fearsome roar, but he was not counting on the heavy attack that came forth from the pirate woman, Camille. Shavaash had little time to block the incoming strike that was directed at him. The wounds on his chest were of much burden and he felt himself slipping quickly. The khajiit was unable to temper his movements as rage got the best of him and therefore, he had failed in desperation to block the attack. He felt a sharp blade cut through his back, slashing a bloody line along the middle. He cried in pain as he fell below...wounded from a pirate. Shavaash imagined himself stronger than a few pirates, but that was simply not the case of what had happened. He felt himself falling off the window down onto the deck. His body fell with a slam, he groaned as he barely felt his limbs.

Bomilkar's Apartment, Sentinel Palace
Bomilkar and Ashanta

Bomilkar's eyes drifted to lovely figure who now entered the room who was young and beautiful, like a glimmer of youth now long since past. The way she moved was almost entrancing to the desert Khan who had found himself almost awe struck by her youthful beauty, yet he made no obvious signs of his infatuation. In his mind he attempted to convince himself out of such lustful thoughts like he did during his stay in Dragongrove when his cousin had 'offered' the services of a young bath attendant who he had eyed; it had been long before then that even that he had laid with a woman and holding back such desires was a feat in itself. In his youth, it was a sport to find the youngest, most beautiful women around and bed them, no doubt there were several bastard children of his running around out there with no clue as to who's blood ran through their veins, and that was the very reason he was in the heiress predicament he was in now. whoring around never produced a legitimate heir to his tribe, and now, his Yokedaship. Snapping from his own thoughts he nodded in thanks to the young girl who could be no older than her early twenties, a twenty or so year gap in age seperated the girl and Yokeda, yet he found himself being tugged by his own primal urges and yearning to once again relive his early years.

"What is your name girl?" Bomilkar spoke, turning his body towards her, propping his head up upon on of his arms revealing his scared yet relativly fit upper body. It was becoming more obvious now that he had taken with the young girl as deep hazel eyes gave her a look over, starting with her soft brown hair and full lips then down, following the elegant curves of her body.

Cyrus, Stros M'Kai

Cyrus woke from his sleep as a loud knock echoed through the cabin of the ship. He pulled the fine linens across the bed and sat upon it's edge, rubbing his eyes as he yawned. He stood and walked over to a stand that held a maroon colored robe, he took the robe from the stand and put it on. He lazily walked over towards the door and opened it.

"General, we will be arriving at the port soon."

Cyrus replied as his eyes adjusted to the bright mid day shine of Magnus. "Good." He said with a smile, nodding to the first mate of the ship as he closed the door.

Cyrus walked over and once again began to put on his set of lamellar armor piece by piece. When he finished he opened the door of the cabin and walked out onto the deck. Before him was the magnificent port city of Stros M'Kai, a sprawling metropolis that covered a large portion of the island. Cyrus took a deep breath of the salty air, a smile came across his face. His eyes then diverted from the city itself and to the large imposing figures of the Royal Navy that had taken residence in the Harbor.

It seems as though Admiral Donovan has already mobilized the Navy, good, we'll have a head start. He thought as the ship pulled into the docks of the port, the deckhands shouting and tossing large ropes over the sides as the dock workers secured them to the large iron bars on the dock. Cyrus made his way towards the side of the ship as a plank was let down. As Cyrus walked down the plank and unto the dock a group of soldiers following an officer walked onto the dock. They bowed as they approached Cyrus.

"General, we are glad to have you back on Stros M'kai. I have sent word to the palace that you have returned."

"Thank you, however I wont be staying long. War has been declared on the Confederation, we are mobilizing our forces."

"I have noticed my lord, the Royal Navy is something that is hard to miss." said the Officer jokingly.

"Aye, that it is. Well I must be going." Said Cyrus as he began to walk down the dock, the guards parting to let him through.

The docks of Stros M'kai were as busy as ever, dock workers unloading and loading cargo of various sorts, merchants shouting from their stands as they displayed their goods, fisherman showcasing their latest catch to the crowds, all in all the docks were alive with activity. Cyrus made his way through the bustling crowd and towards the palace district where his manor was located.

After navigating the crowded streets of the city Cyrus found himself at his manor. He walked up to the large dark wooden doors and pulled a key from his belt. Cyrus slid the key into an opening on the handle of the door and twisted it, the sound of gears and moving metal was heard as they clicked into place. Cyrus removed the key and pulled open one of the large doors. Then in walked Shamar from the adjacent hallway, a puzzled look across his face.

"My lord, what brings you home so early?"

"War has been declared. I need you to notify the members, we leave at midnight." Shamar was one of the only people outside of the generals and Yokeda who knew of the existence of the Shi no Butai, it was his job to assemble them when they were called upon. Shamar bowed as he replied,

"Yes my lord." He hurried out the door behind Cyrus and off into the bustling streets of Stros M'Kai as Cyrus shut the door behind him. Cyrus walked up the marble staircase and up to the second floor of the manor, turning down the hallway on the right, his footsteps echoing off the hard stone walls. Cyrus walked down the long hallway and once again turned right into the manor's armory. Cyrus untied the straps of the sheaths on his back, setting the falcatas on an elaborate stand. He then began to unstrap his lamellar armor and placed each piece on a stand at the back of the room. Next to it was an identical set of lamellar armor, however the adamantium plates of this set were colored a deep maroon, and the leather was dyed a dark black. It was his father's old armor, the armor of the Shi no Butai. Atop the stand sat a devilish mask that wore a scowl so menacing that it even brought chills to Cyrus at times.The dark maroon armor as well as the mask was more elaborate than the normal armor of the Shi no Butai, something that distinguished Cyrus from the others. The armor had been refitted to Cyrus when his father passed it down to him with the command of the Shi no Butai.

It's been a while since I wore you last... He thought as he ran his hand over the contours of the mask.


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

Midnight.

Masser and Secunda illuminated the almost empty streets of Stros M'kai as Cyrus stepped from his doorstep. He cautiously looked down the street as he pulled the black hood over his head and fastened the buckle of the cloak. Cyrus took off in a jog down the street, he followed the winding streets down and out of the Palace district catching glances of other cloaked figures also heading in the same direction as he.

After navigating through the city he and a large group of other hooded figures arrived a good ways outside the walls of the city at a secret cove. Around 80 or so members had already arrived and were busy loading the two ships that were docked in the cove with supplies. More and more hooded figures arrived as Cyrus removed his hood and walked down to the docks. He came upon another Ra'gada that had a large scar across his face,

"Jamaar, it is good to see you."

"Aye, and it is good to see you Cyrus. Both ships are almost loaded and ready to depart, we're just waiting on the rest of us to get here."

"Good, now come. We must discuss our plans."

Cyrus motioned to Jamaar as he walked towards the ship that he would take. He and Jamaar walked up the wooden plank and unto the ship past a few of the other members loading cargo into the ship's hull. They walked back and into the cabin where a table sat with a large map pinned to it. Cyrus walked to the table, taking a candle from a desk and lighting the other ones that sat next to the map.

"We're splitting into two groups, I'll sail north of Taneth to the border of the Empire and the Confederation. You are to take the second ship and sail south of Roseguard." Cyrus indicated where on the map Jamaar was to land.

"Terrorize the outposts, patrols, caravans, anything to hinder the Confederation. Leave signs, play on the local superstition, strike fear into the hearts of the Knight's local allies. Make camp in the Corten Mountains, move it everyday and leave no signs of your presence behind." Jamaar nodded.

"What if they discover us?" he asked as he looked up from the map at Cyrus.

"Retreat into the mountains and regroup in the independent states. The Confederation won't follow you there, but I'd prefer it if you weren't discovered." replied Cyrus.

"We will be as death itself, silent and inevitable. The infidels will only see us as they choke on their own blood."

Cyrus smiled, "Good, now gather half the force and set out. I'll take the other half. Good hunting my brother." Said Cyrus as he placed his hand on Jamaar's shoulder.

The Lusty Lady
Camille Leon

Camille grinned with a slight bit of surprise as her sttack landed, and the Khajiit went down hard. He landed hard on the deck, and was simply laying there, groaning. "That went much better than expected," Camille said to herself. She thought about finishing the Khajiit off, but then changed her mind. She recognized that he was apparently badly injured, and that he wouldn't be able to get off of the sinking ship. So he was, in all likelihood, going to die, regardless of whether or not Camille delivered a final blow. And now its time for me to take my leave, she thought as her ship lurched again. She took one last look at the Khajiit and said to him, "That's what happens when you mess with the best, bastard!"

With that, Camille quickly started climbing down the side of the ship, towards the water. As she was about to reach it, she closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against the hull of The Lusty Lady. "I'm sorry, baby. I couldn't protect you," she whispered before openeing back her eyes and diving in to the sea. She quickly cut through the water, making her way to the small escape boat that was waiting for her a couple dozen yards away. She pulled herself onto it, and looked at the four other survivors of her crew, all of whom where watching the Lady slowly sink. She watched too for a second before simly staring into her lap, and the small boat was silent for several moments.

It wasn't until Jacob said, "So what now, Captain?" that Camille looked up. She looked at the faces that surrounded her, waiting for her orders before turning her full attention to Jacob.

"Don't call me that anymore," she said quietly, sadness in her voice.

"Don't call you what?" Jacob asked, confused.

"Don't call me 'Captain' anymore. That title rings rather empty without a ship or crew to go with it," Camille responded, looking down at her hands. The boat was silent for several more moments before Behleez repeated Jacob's earlier question.

"What do you want us to do now?" he asked, crossing his arms and looking at Camille.

Camille was quiet for a little while longer as she thought. Eventually, she spoke up, her voice hoarse. "We'll wait for 10 more minutes and see if anyone else makes it here. Then we'll head to shore, make our way to Taneth and decide what to do from there." Her remaining crew nodded and looked off towards their sinking home. Camille would've followed their gaze, but she couldn't bear to watch her baby die, and so she simply stared into the calm seawater, and watched the fish that swam underneath, oblivious to the chaos above the waves.

Sobotai, Stros M'kai

Sobotai let a smirk fall across his face before the man before him, smiling cheeks hidden behind behind a brown and turquoise mask. His light brown eyes pierced their path towards Donovan's as the commander made his way over to the admiral, shaking his hand with a substantial motion. Though the man looked down upon his fellow Redguard nearly a foot in height, his respect for him was a foot higher than that of himself.

"As it is, Donovan. Take a seat."

Sobotai released his hand shake, taking his chair at the square pearl table which sat in the corner of the top of the tower. It overlooked the vast city that was Stros M'kai, which continued to climb its way westward until one could see mountains overlooking the farthest walls. To the east sat the beautiful oceans and the might Imperial fleet, which boasted its dignity and power to even the richest man. Tropical trees could be seen near the island's shores, followed by the oceans themselves and many rocks sitting barren north of the harbor. It had always been an advantage to Stros M'kai that so many rocks sat along many of its shorelines, preventing even the smallest assault.

"The guards may exit for the time being, admiral. There is much to discuss."

Sobotai motioned the guards out as Rasu found his way back into the tower, taking his own chair at the marvelous peace of furniture beneath his waist. He nodded towards Sobotai, signalling that he was ready to begin their talks. Sobotai's face slowly found its way toward the admiral as he uttered his words. His voice was deep and straight forward to the man before him. A dim silence fell over the nature from outside the tower, as there was a temporary silence.

"It's a pleasure to work with you, Donovan. I've heard much about your efforts in the Siege of Sentinel. I see you've mobilized our main fleet. Haroun has declared war against the knights in Rihad, as was expected."

His voice hardened as he began to cut to the point of the meeting. He gave a stern look over to the admiral and war hero before him.

"I see you've mobilized our main fleet. This will be a bit different than the War of the Wolves, as we'll be on the offensive this time around."

A knock was heard at the door; Sobotai's head moved casually towards it, as his voice rang towards the entrance.

"Come in."

Two figures entered, both adorned in steel armor and bearing scimitars. They each held one side of a large map, which had been rolled up into a colossal scroll.

"Commander. Your map."

Sobotai nodded, motioning towards the table. The figures carried it over, unfolding it across the gleaming surface. The commander gave a kind look over to the men.

"Thank you, Mahmoud. It is much appreciated."

The figure looked back, dark hair befalling onto his shining armor. As he smirked towards the general, a rugged scar could be seen crossing his left eye.

"Anytime, commander."

The two figures left the room as Sobotai unfolded the map before the admiral and knight which sat before him. It was large, displaying the entire Yokudan Empire, land and sea, along with the regions of the Illiac bay and the borders of Cyrodil, as well as those of the Elven Dominion to the south. He glared over at Donovan, using his right index finger to point towards Rihad on the rather detailed map. He was sure Donovan would likely have some type of marker pieces to use for the fleets themselves.

"We blockade Rihad first. Cut off their ports completely."

He now looked towards Rasu, a cocky smirk beholding his expressions.

"They won't stand a chance against the mighty cannons of Sentinel."

Ashanta & Bomilkar, Sentinel Palace.

Ashanta allowed herself a brief glance to Bomilkar. She found herself only temporarily returning a similar extended glance at him. She did notice his upper body and it's scars. She discerned he probably fought many battles and survived them, earning the fearsome mark as a testament to his valor. Even though the man was older than her, Bomlikar had a sense of strength in him that rivaled her lover, he carried himself as a man of stature and Yokudan pride. He dutifully served and helped the king in the Last War of the Wolves. Truly a remarkable feat. Like her lover, he was a man of influence and power. But he also lacked what her lover blossomed with. She knows the heart of the love of her life she knows how empty it is. She has witnessed his anger, she is aware how deep it is. But most of all, she had seen his ambition, and she knows how ruthless it can be. Her was all that she had hoped for; An accomplished philosopher, diplomat and warrior, regarded as one of the Empire's greatest ever for his strength of character and his charisma. The High Council itself considered him both the Empire's greatest learner and one of their greatest failures for reasons she cannot explain. During her life in Cyrodiil, she felt secluded from Imperial affairs and even her own lover's kiss has lingered of late. Among all these things, she still loved her man. She still admired him. But those feelings began to slowly decay in time.

He began to be the man she didn't know. Her Imperial lover began slowly drifting away from their relationship into "political" affairs. Giving the more reason for her father to chastise her for falling for a "uptight Imperial devil". She felt partially heart-broken for the lack of attention, but deep inside she knew what he was doing was for him and for her. Only months after she considered terminating the relationship did he approach her for a hand in marriage. He apologized for his behavior and lack of time spent with her. She remember when he even knelt down on his knees and pleaded with a smile upon his face. She accepted and they left at one to a new place that she couldn't believe her ears when she heard of it; Sentinel, her traditional home! I love Draken with all my heart, she told herself.


Filled with joy, she was ready to accept everything that he wanted. And sure enough he had but one task before they were off to get married and live a normal life; She was to enter the Yokudan Palace and remain there as a servant. And for awhile, she would simply send him letters and updates on the affairs of King Haroun and the Empress, Roxanna. He promised it was for a better life, for a chance to take the steps that would change their lives forever and for the better. He explained to her that if this is done, then he can forge an alliance with them and potentially be in their good graces once he knows how to please him. She was reluctant at first and thought herself a traitor if she ever engaged in such an act, but it was for a "noble" cause. Ashanta gasped slightly as she realized that Bomlikar spoke to her. She delayed in answering back. She quickly lifted her head and replied, with a forced smile upon her face.

"My lord, Ashanta is my name. At your service." that was all she could say. An embarrassed expression was plastered on her face.


****
Draken Decumus Vladmirius, Sentinel

The Undead Imperial threw the curtains to his room aside, revealing the mind-captivating view of the Illiac Bay. The two moons were high in the sky, giving the ground below a special glow that illuminated the dark ocean. He folded his arms and the chest and inhaled deeply. It was time to depart from Hammerfell. He would not be a pawn or a lackey to someone’s desires. Ever since Chancellor Ocato died, everything went to oblivion for the Empire. Alliances were forged and destroyed and a power-game was set in place. Four-hundred centuries and he should of known better on what to expect. There was nothing to gain by staying in Hammefell. The sun was hotter here than any other part of Tamriel. They probably wanted me to turn to ash beneath the scorching Magnus, Draken thought bitterly. He clenched his fist near to causing sparks. He was upset, he felt used, cheated even. He had planned ahead, all for nothing! He seduced and indoctrinated that petty woman named Ashanta into falling in love with him. Idiot mortal coil, little did she know Draken’s convoluted deception.

The woman was only desired for her skill in espionage and her roots to Yokudan bloodline. That alone granted the reason for her place in the Sentinel palace as a servant. He knew her love for him outweighed her love for her petty culture, she would be a great pawn to be used and taken advantage of. Secretly feeding him information of the Yokudan’s plans for war against the misguided Knights of the Nine. He would decide the victor of the battle and join with them only to secure himself a greater power base. But the more he thought ahead, the more he realized there was a greater chance of failure. Haroun and his wench of a wife frown upon Draken’s countenance, they did not trust those working within the Imperial High Council. Which was why it was essential to have a link inside the Sentinel palace while he sleeps his days away from that blasted abomination called the sun. Draken began thinking ahead once more, his mind writing all of the outcomes on an imaginable parchment. He had better success in the Imperial City back in Cyrodiil where he was born. Perhaps Janus Hassildor could be of assistance. Seridur himself was murdered years ago, rendering his character useless. Draken fumed with anger, so much that he thought his pale face would create a rare tint of red.

He grabbed his belongings and material keepings; Jewelry, ancient katana and clothes. He folded his extra pair of shirts and pants and shoes and stuffed them in the bag. Everything he prepared for was outdone in a single outcome of self-stupidity. Cyrodiil would be a place to return to, A test of his abilities among the various power-starved bloodsvcking parasites as he tries to compete with his own. The High Council refuses to officially acknowledge that vampiric movements even exist which is something he can benefit from. It was a twisted display of irony; He manipulated Ashanta for his own benefits while he himself was being used. Something is profoundly awry with this perverse twilight world of ours, Draken thought.

While Draken did not believe in killing people for simple sadistic pleasure, he did convince himself that Ashanta’s usefulness had run it’s course. He learned that his sister preferred a more quiet and insidious approach. Instead of using her vampiric seduction to bend individuals to her will, she would gently prod their collective intellect, shoving their thought patterns to make them more emotional, more hostile. By itself the process was inutile, but combined with persuasive speech to further stir the blood, the effects could be more meaningful and more permanent than the supernatural force of simple mind control.

However, the words couldn't come from Draken’s mouth. As skilled as all Imperials were in persuasion, he was a stranger here; The Yokudans couldn’t trust him. Their natural instincts would be to repudiate his arguments; in their synthetically induced state they would efficiently turn against him. Haroun needed to be convinced by someone he could trust. An individual who was of proper Yokudan bloodline. Someone like Ashanta. Hammerfell was no place for a vampire to dwell. Although blood is not as scarce as mortal’s water, securing power was much more difficult. He would have to convince Ashanta to return with him to Cyrodiil. The woman can be a delicious meal for my appetite on the day of arrival back to the borders, Draken licked the smooth contours of his fangs at the thought, For months I wanted to sink my teeth into her succulent jugular veins! Or perhaps she could remain behind, Draken did always think she was useless even for his palate.

Draken grabbed a flask of Telvanni bug musk. An expensive perfume made from the scent glands of the Grazelands beetles. He opened it and poured the substance into his hands. He rubbed his hands at the dark red-brown paste, then he patted his neck and cheek. The much subtle but compelling fragrance is attractive to all mortal races and every six. That, along with his seductive powers and natural abilities of persuasion would be unmatched by all others. I can possibly woo even the most rigid of women, he reflected with hedonistic thoughts. But now was not the time. It would be best if he returned to Cyrodiil unnoticed by even the aristocrat's prying eyes and ears. A merchant vessel would suffice easily enough. Large, unclean and lacking of importance. No one would expect a vampiric noble to emerge from it’s fetid interiors. Draken left his room and contacted one of the servants. His face was covered with the Yokudan mask he purchased back in the market. This might just serve some use, he thought.

He raised his hand to the servant woman walking in the hall of the Foreigner’s quarter building. She stopped, her steps decreasing. She stood a short distance away from Draken’s. Perhaps his mask was a bit of a startle to her. He studied her briefly, she was of normal redguard stock; Brown hair, smooth chocolate-colored skin and lustrous green eyes. She had a birth mark on her cheek that was a sort of a charm. The young woman herself appeared shy and self-assured. She wasn’t the most beautiful he had laid eyes upon. But it was no time to be picky. He constructed his lie of an excuse and said it with venomous intent.

“Excuse. I am sorry to bother you in such a time. A beautiful woman such as yourself has greater duties to attend to. But I am a foreigner and I am in a bit of a problem in my room.”

The woman giggled sheepishly, she wasn’t sure as to indulge in the masked stranger’s flirtatious attitude. But she was a servant and she must attend the needs of those staying within the Foreigner’s quarters. Draken growled inwardly, looking around suspiciously to see if anyone was around. Thankfully, there were none in the halls. He lit pushed the door to his chamber wide open so that she would take a glimpse of the lit room. Only to add to the deception that it was indeed a comfortable entrance. Draken guided her back with his hand, secretly expelling his seductive powers of vampirism. He listened as the woman made a sound of utter titillation. Her body quivered ever so slightly. She slightly wobbled and moved in a sensual pattern. The telvanni musk and his powers had did their job. Now it was her job to provide food for the immortal. Draken leaned her ear and spoke.

“Follow me inside,” he whispered seductively “I have something to show you.”

She did as she was commanded. Draken glanced around the corners with his keen eyes and smiled in satisfaction. No one was in the hall to witness to his bloody desires. He closed the door and walked inside the room. He closed the curtains, rendering the chambers into a pitch black darkness. His red eyes saw through the dark thickness of shadow. She was completely entranced by his dark spell, awaiting a man’s touch to her needy desires of the flesh. But all she received was the sharp extended fangs of the preternatural predator sink slowly into her succulent flesh. Draken pulled her to him, tossing away his mask to the floor of the chamber. She made a naturally sound of pain too muffled for the natural ear to hear. But she was too induced by the vampire’s seduction. Draken’s mouth began draining the red nectar from the woman’s jugular vein. His jaw like a sponge, soaking in the life’s liquid that the unwilling donor gave reluctantly. He felt his strength escape away from him while his unnatural appearance shifted to a normal acceptable one. Pale hands turned a human white, bright red eyes gave way to slightly lighter shades of crimson that radiated life. The woman twitched in her last death throes, eyes lifting to the back of her skull as she gave away to death. Draken dropped her once beautiful body now transformed to a gray color like a lifeless sack. Two puncture wounds of her neck lacking the oozing blood. Draken had drank his fill. He wiped his mouth and picked up the golden Yokudan mask. The corner of his lip folding up to a dark scowl that displayed his disgust for the human.

“You have served your purpose.” Draken said as his hand set the mask aflame. He tossed the burning tool away from him. He left the room with his expensive sack of items in a hurry. He peeked in the halls and saw no one around. He shut the door and walked the golden corridors as if nothing had transpired. He adopted a collected natural face of a young human nobleman.

Draken left the Foreigner’s building, sparing a contemptuous glance at the establishment. All traces that he left in the room were gone, with the exception of the body. If they ever linked him to the body, he would be long gone. The town’s officials would think that Senerius Glabber was responsible, since that was his false document and passport visa. The “young” man traversed the town, passing by various races of men, women and beast-folk alike. He was in a hurry and would buy the quickest passage off of Hammerfell. Draken searched around for a way out.

Rihad, Keep

I hope nobody objects to this. Vorandaril softly spoke an incantation and channeled magic though his embalmed body. White streams of energy poured out of his hands and formed a symbol on the bridge. The symbol quickly vanished, leaving no visible trace of the marking spell. There. Now I can teleport here any time I need.

It was unlikely that the mark would be noticed. Nobody would expect a teleportation mark on the underside of a bridge. And if someone in power objected to it, they'd have a difficult time removing it. The only disadvantage of its location was that when he teleported there he'd be upside down. Still, having all the embalming fluid rushing to one's head was a small price to pay for being able to teleport to the keep without drawing attention or worrying about the mark being removed.

Vorandaril floated onto the topside of the bridge. I wonder if the Knight Commander has anything for me to do yet. Perhaps I could convince him to send me on a preemptive attack. While he had originally sided with the Knights to stop the Youdans from encroaching on his territory and to fund his research, he had a strong desire to test his powers, find out what his limits were in combat. As he hovered towards the gates, he invoked his powers of life detection. Hmm, he's in there, but he's already meeting with someone. Female, Imperial I believe. Strong magicka signature. Must be a mage of some sort.

Stros M'kai
Sobotai and Donovon

Donovon smiled at the finely detailed map that was laid out before him, oh how he loved maps, and detailed ones were always a pleasure to deal with, something about being able to look over the world in which he helped conquer instilled a sort of pride that often surfaced with a smug smile upon his face. As Lord Sobotai pointed down at the map he spoke obvious and simple words, a blockade had always been the navy's intended role given the circumstances, and the Imperial Navy's presence was really only for shock and awe purposes to detour any foolish attempts at trying anything foolish like raiding the Yokudan Empires coast. Nodding the Grand Admiral began to speak, first producing a number of finely crafted led ships from the interior of his fine, white coat pocket and placing them neatly around Stros M'kai.

"The Rihad Confederation should pose little threat, and a simple naval blockade should be more than enough to discourage trade ships from attempting to come in or out of their ports." he said rather nonchalantly, seemingly more concerned about the placement of his toy ships than talking real strategy. "But.." he picked back up, his eyes darting up from the map to Sobotai's eyes. "The High King has made it very clear that we are to cause as little damage to the non-combatant ships as possible."

He awaited the inevitable gawk that usually followed when telling men who think their important that they can't play with their fancy toys of destruction, though he didn't know exactly what to think of Sobotai yet, he had never met the man until now but could already feel a possible clash of egos, which he loved, little else but battle gave him the jolt of satisfaction other than putting others in their place. "Rihad is a valuable trade port to his Highness Haroun do Ashir. Its docks and trade vessels are better left in tact rather than at the bottom of the Abscean Sea, you see, so our task becomes more complicated than simple smash and bash tactics many of the High Kings other subordinates tend to use."

Donovon's hand now moved to the map and began setting up his ships around the coast of the Rihad Confederation, with only a token force close the harbor itself. The rest of the fleet seemed to be spread out, with a portion near the city of Taneth and the others set along various trade routes coming in and out of the Confederations waters. "Too large a force will instil desperation in the Confederations people, which will only serve to hinder our goals. Keeping just a small force for the actual blockade will allow them to attempt blockade runs, maybe even goad their naval forces into open battle where they will easily be smashed, but our true victory will not be near the shallow waters of their ports, but along the sea lanes where we will strangle their supply lines from outside Hammerfell..." the Grand Admiral continued, speaking as if he had already won the war himself.

"This not only keeps them believing they have a chance for victory, but allows us to intercept their ships, capture whatever wealth and information they may be carrying and pit against them while maintaining the naval infrastructure for when our military rolls into the streets of Rihad." a wide grin now set upon the Admirals face as he leaned back in the chair and awaited for the awe inspired response he knew had to be working its way to Sobotai's lips, what else could he say at such a ingenious plan?

Bomilkar's Apartment, Sentinel Palace
Bomilkar and Ashanta

Bomilkar situated himself in the tub, now leaning against the back of the marble tub with his arms resting against the back of the tub, his wanting eyes continuing to look over the beautiful young woman before him. He too noticed that she gazed at him, if only for a moment, with the same lustful eye's that he eyed her with. This let loose a range thoughts that most wouldn't let be known, but it had been so long sense any woman, or anyone for that matter, had looked at him in anyway than either contempt or hatred. Clearing his voice he motioned for Ashanta to come sit by him, leaning forward to grab a fresh towel and placing it on the side of the tub for her to sit. "You have no need to be embarrassed around me girl." he said with the booming confidence of a young stud, noting how her face seemed to redden lightly for a moment as she stuttered in response before catching himself. "I mean, Mrs. Ashanta."

"You asked what other services you could provide." he took a deep breath, waiting for her to sit. "There's a great many needs a man needs servicing, especially a Yokeda." his eyes now maneuvered to meet with hers. She would likely understand the meaning, his hints were strong enough, and no one had ever denied him before.

Taneth, Knights of the Nine Barracks

It was fortunate that Tarsius had caught up on his paperwork before heading to the Temple, because now all he could do was think about what he saw. Indeed, he would probably have trouble doing anything for a while. Hopefully things would stay quiet for the time being. Tarsius had never experienced something like this. It was like a dream without the sensation of awaking at the end. It felt so real, it felt like he could have charged and slain the traitorous warrior himself, had it not faded. It was a powerful reminder of the gods they served.

Everyone in the Order heard of seers and oracles having visions; indeed, many of them served the Nine Divines, using their gift to learn of and locate things otherwise lost. Others were said to be so overloaded with them that over time they could barely function. I can see why one could lose their grip on reality after experiencing one too many; they're so vivid, so real. Beyond that, some of the greatest heroes of Cyrodiil, such as Tiber Septima and the Divine Crusader, had received visions from the Divines. But he never expected to receive one himself. It must signify betrayal, but from whom? Is it coming from mercenaries or allies? It must, the traitor was neither Knight nor Yokudan. I must speak to the others of this, see if they have any leads.

As he arrived back at the barracks, Tarsius spoke to one of his guards.

"I need you to fetch Venetia Leone. Inform her that I urgently need to speak to her regarding the city's security." The guard immediately set off as Tarsius headed to his office. If anyone knows of the loyalty, or lack thereof, of any of our local allies or mercenaries, she will. I need to know who I can and cannot trust.

After a few of the adventurer group had left the tavern, the man in the corner moved perceptibly. Sam continued to watch his movements from the corner of his eye, paying little attention until it became obvious the man was moving towards him. Finally, the Redguard stopped beside the table, looking down at Sam. Now he was out of the dark corner, the knight could make out more of the man's features.

He appeared old, wrinkled by age or experience and wisdom. His brown eyes suggested age as they looked at the Breton, paler in color as eyes tend to do with age. The smoke that seemed to wrap around the man came from his pipe.

"Samuel Ross." Now Samuel looked directly up to the man, rather than glancing at details, putting down his cutlery with obvious interest. There was no tone of uncertainty in the voice; this man knew who he was, and that set Sam on edge. But he had seen many kinds of assassin, and few had approached him so abruptly, and none dressed in worn out, tattered robes that had strange leaves sewn on one shoulder. The Redguard removed the pipe from his mouth and motioned towards a chair beside Sam with it. "May I?"

Sam narrowed his eyes, suspicious of the man whose pipe smoke clung to him like clothes. Then he noticed the necklace of fangs, violet eyes glancing briefly. Wait, some of those weren't... necromancer, perhaps? But the most puzzling thing was the soft glow of white light that outlined the man, penetrating through the smoke. Sam knew by experience only he alone could see this light; it was Cloud Sky, revealing the man's intentions to be harmless. How could a man wearing human -or elf- teeth possibly be harmless?

Still, Cloud Sky had yet to lie to him, and the man had a mission; why else would he know Sam by name? Sam realized he had not answered for near half a minute, and jolted into a reply.

"Sure, of course." He answered swiftly in compensation for the delay in response, gesturing with his steel clad hand at the chair. "Always a pleasure to eat with a friend." The remark did not come out as smoothly as Sam had intended, hesitation and suspicion evident in his voice and making him laugh softly and briefly at the sentence's end. I've ran circles around the Dark Brotherhood, necromancers, rogue assassins, and bandits. And this guy is making me stumble? This was a first. Sam took a cloth napkin that was given with the cutlery and wiped off his mouth, his other hand moving to his side beneath the table to adjust something.

Furninan had a hard time keeping himself silent during the incident, nestled against the chair's edge in Sam's hip sack. He was facing the wrong way to see the man who had approached, though he could feel the power of the man -Samedi... What is Samedi?- who's soul was strong and old. Mentally Furninan cursed being a simple skull, eye sockets staring through a leather pouch at the floor beneath Sam's ass. When Sam nudged Furninan's teeth and rotated him in the sack, he could finally see the full power of the Samedi man. He had magic in him, but not the kind of Bretons and Elves. It was a magical practice that was more subtle, more mystical in nature, and probably thereby more acceptable to Redguards and went under a different name than magic. Furninan knew what Sam wanted, and began to look into the Samedi's soul, anolyzing the stranger to inform Sam later.

Shavaash Opress & Kraven Desselius, Lusty Lady.

"We've got to get off this [censored]!" said a Dunmer that he recognized as the companion of the other one. Kraven lacked any compassion for the Dunmer, but this one seemed younger and much more calm than the other one. But he wasn't entirely sure. Kraven glared at him for the briefest of moments and sighed.

"If we took command of the ship, it would have been easier." Kraven complained, but he looked around for a spot to escape. He pointed at the edge. "See that spot there? Call your friends so we may meet on that area. I will need to retrieve my friend. So make haste as I do!"


Kraven Desselius ran across the deck of the Lusty Lady. He passed by dead and wounded pirates as well as fierce combatants on the other side of the violent tide. His desire was not to spill blood, but to search for his brother-in-arms, Shavaash Oppress. He was full of ferocity and hatred fuming out of his nostrils. The more angrier he got during the week, the more he realized that the day was close upon him. Perhaps tomorrow, perhaps the next day. He was in desperate need of a calendar. But even more so to escape the ship alive. The hard part had already passed, now it was time to test his skill of escape. After moments of frantic searching, Kraven came upon the body of Shavaash. He saw his friend with two piercing on his pecks and briast, as well as a pool of blood surrounding his back. Kraven surmised that he was injured with a blade to the back. The Imperial leaned down on the soaked wet deck and rolled Shavaash over. He placed his fingers on Shavaashes neck. He has a pulse, Kraven rejoiced, he yet lives!

He noticed the ship was gradually sinking faster than before. He sighed and leaned down, picking up Shavaash's heavy unconscious body and hauling him over his back. He looked around on the edge of the deck and saw that most of the boats were gone. He saw far off a group of individuals inside the smaller boats. Kraven shook his head and thought out a plan. How are we going to escape?

Gilane, Outskirts

Raspert carried a rucksack over his armored form, with great displeasure. He did not look forward traveling to Hawk's eye with this heat, his armor, and an extra fifty pounds of food, blankets and water. He raised a gauntlet to cover his eyes as he looked to the sky ahead, its glare beating down on him and illuminating the outline of his hand. Beads of sweat dropped as he stroked his beard.

Gods...its going to be a rough journey. I haven't walked this far sinc-

His own mind was cut off at hearing Kira's laughter from behind, he turned around to find one of the wagons resting at the outskirts of the town belonged to a companion she had known, a rather large and burly shirtless man. Two horses pulled the wagon, cheap, but with a tent to protect from the sun and enough room for the whole party.

His eyes swelled with a bitter appreciation, he wished he had done as she did. He turned to the rest of the party.

"Well it looks like your smuggling accomplice here has managed to come through."

The wagon began drawing near, Kira sitting on the bench with its driver, a wolfish grin on her face. She looked to Marius, winking, before popping a cigar into her mouth.

"Gentlemen, and kitty cat, this is Ozvaldo, used to be one of my best."

The Driver sighed before nodding to the party in general.

"If your looking to get to Hawk's Eye, it will be a journey that will last until the night, get comfortable in the back..." his voice was deep and filled with no enthusiasm, unbeknownst to all but Kira...he wanted nothing to do with the woman until he was getting paid. She had horrible luck when it came to finding trouble.

Rihad Keep
Lysandra

The battlemage smiled wryly seeing the unease with which Terentius addressed the price of the deal. "Yes, Commander, only one of the recruits and his family - his wife and two daughters." The tone of her voice did not betray the slight enjoyment Lysandra derived from helping the Knight Commander better visualize the people whose handing out to Crixus seemed to cause him some discomfort. Quite a poor career choice if you're going to be put off by every heathen that needs to be sacrifice, no? You'd think a Terentius would be less concerned about someone's well-being... Might it be that their peers exaggerate when describing them somewhere along the line of infant-killing beasts.

"I suppose lives are never a thing to be treated lightly," Her offhand tone suggested quite strongly she didn't believe that, though the wry smile was gone as if it had never been there, the momentary crack in her mask fixed. "But progress and the greater good both demand sacrifice. Knowledge of when and what to sacrifice is why the Nine asign each of us our duties, no?" Lysandra considered briefly reminding Stanet that, allied or not, these were heathens they were talking about, but in the end, what did she care how comfortable he felt with this? She was quite certain she wasn't the only one in the room who had climbed to her post on others' corpses, if her Knight Commander couldn't deal with it without shuffling about, it didn't much concern her beyond whatever interest it could spark in her as the battlemage constructed her outer shell according to her environment.

"Now, unless the Commander has any more questions about this information, may I be excused? I was under the impression you are busy with the order's mercenaries, I would not wish to distract you from your business for any longer than is neccessary." The Nibenese turned partially towards the doors, hoping to be dismissed so she could return to her business in the temple.

Sobotai, Stros M'kai

Sobotai eyed the Admiral carefully, overlooking the plan before him.

"The Rihad Confederation should pose little threat, and a simple naval blockade should be more than enough to discourage trade ships from attempting to come in or out of their ports."

The admiral stopped, continuing onward.

"But...The High King has made it very clear that we are to cause as little damage to the non-combatant ships as possible."Rihad is a valuable trade port to his Highness Haroun do Ashir. Its docks and trade vessels are better left in tact rather than at the bottom of the Abscean Sea, you see, so our task becomes more complicated than simple smash and bash tactics many of the High Kings other subordinates tend to use. Too large a force will instil desperation in the Confederations people, which will only serve to hinder our goals. Keeping just a small force for the actual blockade will allow them to attempt blockade runs, maybe even goad their naval forces into open battle where they will easily be smashed, but our true victory will not be near the shallow waters of their ports, but along the sea lanes where we will strangle their supply lines from outside Hammerfell..."

Sobotai nodded in slight agreement, beginning to think over the process which the war hero and former captive had just explained to him. A large grin was now stuck onto Donovan's face, as Sobotai reflected on what the King's orders were. He scrunched his brow, as it appeared Haroun himself had grown soft, much more giving and less ruthless than he had been over a year ago.

As little damage as possible...

"This not only keeps them believing they have a chance for victory, but allows us to intercept their ships, capture whatever wealth and information they may be carrying and pit against them while maintaining the naval infrastructure for when our military rolls into the streets of Rihad."

Sobotai eyed the short man, pointing downward towards the area north of Hnes Rax. This would be there easiest way of entry into the confederation. Supplying the troops would be unhindered as long as the naval infrastructure was preserved. With a blockade and superior naval power, they could easily chain Rihad's inferior navy to its docks. Sobotai's voice let forth towards the Redguard.

"But we must make sure we have enough of a strangle on their ships, that they do not interfere with the adjacent waters. They are necessary to the invasion."

Ruhk, Sentinel Palace Kitchen

The two proceeded down the halls, headed towards the cookery. Haroun's stomach echoed throughout the passageway.

"The Sword of Ator has been searched for...for centuries. It is no small task that you have found where it has chosen to rest. Tell me cousin, how long have you been searching for this?"

Ruhk smiled at the sight of his cousin's amazement. He had never been worried of impressing anyone but his family members, especially the High King. The young Redguard now hoped that this newest revelation would bestow happiness into the King. Haroun was considered a big brother to the young governor and commander. He was one of the head figures that Ruhk put in effort to impress, to aid, and to follow after. Many were loyal to the High King for his heroics in the Siege of Sentinel. Others were loyal for their own personal rewards. Ruhk was loyal to Haroun, not only as his ruler and elder, but as his family member, whom he grew up with in the same city. While they were not of the same house, their houses were closely bonded together. This was one of the main reasons Haroun had left his hometown under the watch of the Ahkbar's, why his own house took on that of Elden Yokedaship in full. The young Raga responded in a serious tone as he continued to walk towards their destination.

"We've searched for it for nearly two years. It has been placed in the Dwemer ruins of Mudez," A keen eye broke through the air, staring into that of Haroun's. "The Imperials placed it there in hopes that it would not be recovered and ordered the documents to be burned."

Ruhk would not take full credit for something he did not accomplish. Haroun would know that the Empire before them actually recovered the sword several years ago, but kept it hidden in order to keep the Redguards from beginning another rebellion. He turned towards his cousin, a broad grin apparent through his expressions.

"Now we've found it."

The two finally entered the kitchen, the smell of fresh food filling the Raga's nostrils.

"You never cease to amaze me Ruhk."

The High King let out a laugh as Ruhk smiled in return, chuckling along side his cousin. The young Redguard proceeded to take his seat across from the Elden Yokeda. Ruhk watched as the great High King Haroun, his family member, turned to him.

"We must send an expedition to acquire it. It would be an honor to see it on the battlefield, in the hands of the High King."

Ruhk continued to smile towards his cousin, letting out a joyful smirk.

"You, cousin, never cease to amaze me."

"You have no need to be embarrassed around me girl." Said the naked man.


Ashanta caught her breathe for only a moment. It was obvious to anynone what sort of "servicing" this man required. The thought alone ran across Ashanta's mind one or twice, but she prayed to the gods that it would not happen. Was she wrong. For a moment, she did not know what do do. No! She wanted to say. Never! She wanted to shout. But the duty of a servant was just this. To serve and to hold the tongue. She looked up to see Bomlikars lustful eye catch hers. Ashanta almost had shed a tear. She never had given her body to someone forcefully. And now the test was for her to pass. She only had one love of her life and now she would betray him by giving her body to another man. What if I refuse? The penalty for such things. Ashanta thought. She sighed inwardly and gulped down something in her throat. She nimbly walked toward the man, decision set and thoughts on other matter. I won't do this for Bomlikar. Ashanta thought as she sat next to him in the place where he removed the towel.