Meeting Room, Rihad Keep

To the Knight Commander, the hostility between Athanden and Belisarius was reaching an almost comical level. By the Nine, how desperate are these people for employment? They look likely to come to blows over this. Still, he didn't feel like breaking up a petty dispute between two mercenaries, especially since he'd already decided they wouldn't be working together if hired.

Belisarius explained that his men were a hard day's march outside of Rihad, which was certainly curious; Terentius couldn't think of any conceivable reason why he would keep them so far away. However, it did present a good opportunity.

"If that is everything then, I can send my most useful mage back to my camp right away." finished the uncouth but confident mercenary leader just before he bowed and walked towards the door.

"I expect your men to be here by this time tomorrow, then. That will be the first part of your demonstration." said Stanet to his fellow Imperial. "If you're to raid enemy settlements, you'll need to be able to move quickly; this will be a test of your ability to do this. In fact, I can practically guarantee you the job if you can get your troops here by noon tomorrow."

The Dunmer leader, Athanden, stood from his chair, puffing on his pipe. I wonder if Dunmer smoke different things than we do... mused Stanet idly.

"I presume that you will pass word to the Harbor-master that my ships will be unloading throughout the early morning? It will take a few hours for my troops to assemble outside the city. Or would you prefer that I unload my men onto the coast like using our smaller vessels?"

Stanet paused, intrigued at Athanden's offer. Maybe the Dunmer did have something of value after all. A mercenary company with a fleet would be quite welcome; the Knights of the Nine weren't exactly known for their own navy.

"You say you have ships, then?" said Terentius with definite interest evident in his voice. "Why didn't you say so earlier? That certainly changes things. Your test will be tonight, then. Take your ships ten miles north of Rihad and unload on the coast using your smaller vessels at midnight. I'll send one of my subordinates to observe the disembarkation. If you and your men perform this task with enough speed and finesse, you'll get the job. Fair?"

Athanden, Rihad



"Very well, it seems an adequate test of our abilities." Athanden moved away from the table placing his chair back under it, "I will begin preparations immediately, have your men send a flare or signal of some sort into the sky when they are ready for us to begin our test. Good evening muthsera." Said Athanden with a short bow. He then motioned to his guards and Aryn who followed him outside of the meeting room and back into the courtyard. The group made it's way back through the city, however now that night had begun to fall the streets where more open and less crowded. The docks were almost abandoned save for the few deckhands unloading cargo from the immense hull of a trading vessel. The waters were calm and black, streaked with stripes of orange and pink from the setting sun on the horizon. Small waves lapped against the hull of the party's landing vessel, it rocked slightly as it's armored passengers boarded. Each guard took a position on the side of the boat as they locked the long oars into their iron swivels, the bow of the boat cut through the scarlet streaked obsidian water as the vessel made its way out of the harbor.

Magnus had finished it's journey across the sky as the group came within sight of the fleet. The water was no longer streaked with bright colors save for the reflection of Masser and Secunda on its surface, the swells had grown to roughly two feet now and rocked the boat as it made it's way towards the twinkling torchlight upon the black silhouettes of the ships. In the front of the fleet stood the massive and imposing figure of Athanden's flagship, The Leviathan. The flag of the Crimson Blades flapped in the night wind, however it's colors and symbols were indiscernible.

As the boat approached the ship whistling and shouting could be heard, followed by the clank of equipment. When the boat reached the hull of the massive flagship four hooks were lowered down by the crew on the deck. Each large hook was latched unto rings at the front and back of the boat, after each was attached one of the guards whistled up to the men above on the deck of The Leviathan. Then there was the clanking sound of ratchets as the large spools began to coil the ropes and lift the landing vessel from the water. Once the vessel reached the top the large steel structure used as a crane was turned on it's base by the crew, swinging the vessel around so that it rested on the frame that held it steady on the deck. A few of the deck hands placed a plank on the side of the boat, Athanden and his group began to walk down the plank and onto the deck as the crew started throwing ropes over the the landing vessel and securing it to the deck.

The second mate of The Leviathan , a Nord by the name of Hromund, approached him giving him a small bow.

"Welcome back aboard Commander. What were the results of the meeting?"

"We are to be tested in our abilities before the Knights will hire us. Signal the other ships to sail north 10 miles then turn towards the coast, we are to unload upon the beach at midnight as if we were doing so in a war. We cannot afford to lose the contract, it would foil everything we have worked to achieve as well as make enemies with very very powerful people. Understood?"

Hromund gave another short bow "Yes commander, I will begin mobilizing the ships immediately." The large and imposing Nord then hurried off to give orders to the crew as Athanden and Aryn made their way to the captains quarters. Athanden took a seat as his desk as Aryn stood behind him with his hands folded behind his back.

"Athanden, do you really think that this will work? I mean, of course the amount of gold offered is double the amount that it requires to complete the task. However I fear that there may be complications that would cause this to end very very badly." Aryn's voice was thick with worry as he spoke to Athanden, he had doubted their task ever since Athanden had even considered taking the contract.

"Aryn, I know it is risky, but since when have I been one to worry about risk? With the amount of gold they will pay us upon completion we will be set for life, you saw with your very eyes the amount that was transfered back to the estate in High Rock, and that was just for excepting the contract."

Athanden had rose from his seat and now stood in front of Aryn pacing around the room. "Anyways the only ones who know of the plan are the generals, and they are loyal to the end. And they know what would happen should they betray me. I made that evident with Percious." Athanden nodded his head towards a steel helmet that sat upon a dresser, it had been cleaved in two diagonally and still bore a few blood stains.

Athanden approached Aryn, placing his hand on his shoulder, "You worry to much Aryn, I knew that this task would be risky when I accepted it. But I have taken the precautions and prepared for the worst, everything will run smoothly." Athanden grinned with confidence and assurance as Aryn replied,

"I know Athanden, but I can't help but think that something horribly bad will come of this." Athanden put his other hand on Aryn's shoulder, "Aryn, this will go according to plan, and when we're done we will be living as kings. Hell I might even decide to retire, now go, make sure that the landing goes smoothly. I don't want anything going wrong with this."

"Very well, I will see that it is carried out flawlessly." Aryn gave a short bow and then exited the room, the heavy wooden door closing with a thud that resonated throughout the cabin. Even though Athanden did not express it openly, he was very worried about the coming months and how everything would play out. However he was reassured that his strategic planning as well as that of his employers would make sure everything went according to plan, anyways there was no possibly way to screw up his task unless one of the generals betrayed him or the Knights did not hire him, and both were highly unlikely.

Athanden could hear as orders were being shouted across the deck and the sails as they were unfurled. The ship began to move as the sails caught the strong night wind, it rocked back and forth as the swells rolled under it's hull and the bow cut into the dark abyss of the sea.


A little over an hour later

Athanden had just finished strapping his armor back on and placing his claymore upon his back when there was a loud knock on his door. Athanden opened the door, in front of him stood Aryn,

"Athanden, we have reached our destination and the ships should be in position within the next fifteen minutes."

Athanden looked up into the sky at the position of the moons then smiled, "Good we are ahead of schedule. Have them follow standard procedure, each landing craft will have two of the battlemages augmenting the stamina and strength of the rowers, 75 men per boat, pike-men and swordsmen first to secure the beach. The Nordic heavy troops will come next followed by the cavalry in the larger landing vessels. Have them take a defensive position once on the beach, then we march inland in combat formation. Have my horse ready for departure, I will land with the heavy troops to coordinate the defensive. And remember, we do not start until the Knight Commander's men signal us."

Aryn gave a short bow, "It shall be done."

It was said they were cast back...
Cast into the sea by the Ra Gada of Yokuda...
Their left handed ways punished severely, never to be seen again...
The Kings who ruled them had given up, lost to time...
The Pankratosword an unfathomable weapon to rise against...
Only She persevered...

A small bamboo forest within Vulnim Gate...

Bamboo along with overgrown and lush bushes had made the forest almost impossible to travel through, the group of Samedi shamans had to physically cut their way through the overgrown area until at the very heart of the forest; the center avoided all light. Even though the sun shine should have dappled through the holes which gave way to sky, it seemed an aura of darkness and shadow permeated the heart.

Four hundred years passed, the Samedi had committed ritual sacrifices on children here, the evil left such a lasting impression that a bit of it still existed. The Samedi considered this forest taboo, especially forbidden even inside the infamous Vulnim Gate. The Shaman in lead shook with great fear as a large, hooded, and bulbous figure waited in silence for them.

The dreadlocks of the Shaman flailed from side to side as he frantically searched for where the figure had approached, finding no sign. This must be the Deep One who had sent the courier to his small village. Eyes widened, blood shot and sore.

Guttural sounds in a language not understood by any man on Tamriel filled the small clearing. The overgrowth within the heart of the forest caught flame, and dissipated, giving way to a stone clearing still adorned with the crusted blood of hundreds of people.

Out of the three Shaman who came, the last approached the center, carrying a burlap sack stained with blood and surrounded by flys.

His hand reached within, pulling out a head of brutally shattered and mangled, but with only small signs of decay. He placed it directly into the center of the ominous clearing. All of the shamans removed a knife from their robes and proceeded to cut their hands, their blood dripping to the intricate stone workings on the ground, the blood traveling small, canols for allowing the vermilion life to reach the center, which the head rested in.

The head was that of a woman, the face tattooed and painted heavily, flesh decaying slightly and eyes fogged. Once the blood reached however, a certain rosiness returned to her eyes, almost immediately. The hooded figure continued speaking its indiscernible tongue, obviously ancient but not able to spoken by any man.

The head's eyes snapped to life and towards the men in front of it.

In a voice too deep for any woman or man, it spoke.

"Bring more."

Rihad Temple
Crixus and Lysandra

Crixus watched with amusemant as the mage took a sip of the strong nordic mead before he could retract his offer. In his old age, simple curtsies like not offering a religious figure a strong drink, or drink at all, escaped him and he truely meant no harm or insult by the offer. However, Lysandra stomached the drink and didn't make a fuss about the offer, which gave Crixus a little comfort in knowing he did not offend his companion of the hour. Crixus listened intently as Lysnadra relayed her history with the order and how she came to it, but the one thing that struck him as most odd was the crud she spewed about being happy as a Lictor, something Crixus knew had to be a lie. The old Redguard often liked to think of himself as an expert at reading people, after all, by now he should be a master at it given his carrer and Lysandra just didn't fit the profile of a content stepping stone in one of the most powerful influences in the Empire and beyond. The fact that she was a mage, a natural power monger, further pushed Crixus into the belief that behind her well kept and passive knightly facade was something far more ambitious and deadly, something he would have to keep an eye out for assuming things worked out the way he had hoped.

"And what of you, mister Nakute?" the inevitable question came, forming around Lysandras lips. "How does one go from being a famous author in Cyrodiil to the advisor of the Yokudan High King?"

A smile came to Crixus as he too took a drink of the mead, the burn marching all the way down his throat and into his belly. "Ahh, now that is the question, isn't it my dear?" a chuckle now roared its way up and out his mouth. "Would you believe me if I said that I'm not really sure? The High King has a talent of sorts for making friends out of enemies.." he continued, his eyes glistened as he now stared down at the mead, casting a dark muggy reflection in the beverage. "I came into Hammerfell as a war reporter, attached to the legionary expedition sent to quash the rebellion, and I reported with great pride as our armies rolled into the deserts and pushed the rebels back to the sea, and it was my solemn duty to report the loss's that soon followed after we became entrenched around Sentinel."

"I've been here ever since. I was captured in the after math of the Legions final deffeat, Haroun had heard of my writing and skills with the word and pen and offered me a position in his retainer, how could I resist? like many others, after the Empires deffeat I had little left to go home too, as Anvil and my estate within left the Empire not long after. It was the most logical decision you see, no matter what I did, I could never return home an Imperial citizen.."

Sentinel
Wilfred du Lombard

"You honour us with your trust, your highness. Anticlere will do what has to be done, as we always have." Wilfred replied. All that needed to be said on the matter seemed to have been said; what remained now was to wait and see how the events unfolded, many of them outside his reach. Too many. I may be the grand marshall, but our wars don't chart the course of the city's advance, those of others do. And we cannot afford to fight them with an army of men, rather with an army of envoys and spies.

"It is a bit of a shame on occasions like these your people do not... approve of the arcane." The grand marshall spoke again as the stage darkened with the scene's end. "We use magick often in Anticlere to enhance plays and the effects are simply marvellous, though we lack a theatre as grand as this. For this reason I would very much love to one day travel to the Imperial City, for all their faults the Imperials are famous for the majesty of their plays."


Gilane
Marius Lepidus

"They're hitting Ayuub holdings now?" The ex-centurion raised an eyebrow, tugging absent-mindedly at the sleeve of his chainmail. "Tiber's ass, whoever's behind this must think themselves untouchable by you people. Which means they're real business. Still, four hundred nobles is a lot of septims, enough to put my neck on a worse chopping block than that. So sealed lips and Raspert in Meduza's Gaze it is. Looking forward to working for you, knight-sheriff."

With that, Marius nodded, turned around and left, set on reaching this Meduza's Gaze. He'd been to it once or twice; wasn't his favourite place, but bearable, especially if he wasn't going to stay there. At least I hope we're moving out soon. Do it fast, get this over with.


Rihad Temple
Lysandra

“So it was not something you chose, then, not entirely?” Lysandra was a bit surprised; she expected to hear hogwash about how Crixus felt the call of his ancestral homeland, the kind of nonsense that seemed to fuel the propaganda machine of the Yokudan Empire. Perhaps he is more reasonable than I gave him credit for. Or he reads people well enough to know saying something like that would gain him no admiration; even more respectable. She didn’t exactly buy into the notion that the High King had a way of converting enemies into friends; it seemed more likely that it was simply an alliance of necessity. For all their claims of civilization, Raga were far from as eloquent as Cyrodils; a man who spent his life in the Heartland was a useful tool, if offered a beneficial enough position.

Contemplating the man before her, the battlemage swept back a loose strand of hair that fell on her face before continuing. “Yes, I remember the time when the Ruby Ranks advanced into Hammerfell. For better or for worse, I wasn’t one of the knights who joined the Legions, but news reached the Imperial City very fast. And it was interesting to observe how swiftly opinions and moods could change in the city, something to ponder about - the lack of constants in the capital. A lesson people of our trade would do well to remember, but often don’t to their own detriment.”

“I have to congratulate you on how well you seem to deal with this new position, mister Nakute.” Lysandra’s hand fell to the cup before her, however she was content to simply trace her finger along the top rather than taking another sip. “Call me sentimental, but I am not sure I’d be able to live well without the Imperial City; it has grown on me too much, even during my years in the Legion I often found myself longing for its canols and the smell of the river. I miss it now as well, grand as the sea may be, the port of Rihad doesn’t make up for the Niben.” This was true; she missed the Imperial City, and not only its intrigue and being so close to the government of the greater part of Cyrodiil. The Niben River did have a distinct smell that was hard to describe, many Nibenese seemed to find themselves missing it in foreign lands.

“But surely you have not come here to reminisce about Cyrodiil or inquire about my past. As pleasant as it is to remember my homeland, there must be a reason why the advisor of the High King would seek out a Paralictor of the Nine.” Crixus seemed to have loosened up a bit, and Lysandra had things to do. As curious as she was about the purpose of this visit, direct dealings with the Yokudans’ emissaries – that’s what the Nibenese presumed the aged author had come as, for what other business could he have? – was only one of her problems.

OOC: This takes place immediately after the mercenary meeting.

Rihad, Keep

As the last mercenary, save Vorandaril, left the meeting, the Altmer rose into an upright position. The meeting was finally over and it was time to give the Knight Commander a demonstration. The lich spoke.

"Knight Commander, I believe you wished for a demonstration?" As he spoke he turned to the nearest chair, telekinetically levitating it and bringing it towards him in. A few more glances and more chairs rose off the ground and towards the Altmer, until fifteen chairs hovered in place around him. This was the easy part; it took focus to move individual objects, but holding an object in place was second nature to him. He was tempted to put most of them down and juggle the rest, but that just make him look like an entertainer than a battlemage.

"There is one other thing I would like to discuss. I wish to work on a spell that temporarily saps a victim's knowledge and memories, but I will need subjects to experiment on, preferably prisoners. With a little more work, I could revolutionize interrogation. And don't worry, neither the experimentation nor the end result should cause any lasting damage, physical or otherwise, to the prisoners."

One by one, the lich carefully set the chairs down as they had been before. It was more difficult, and took more time, as he had to give special attention to each chair, but he managed to finish the demonstration. His magicka was not depleted, although he felt somewhat drained from the concentration it took to return the chairs to their places. He then turned his attention back to the Knight Commander.

"If you wish, we can further discuss my research prospects, which would surely benefit you as much as they would benefit me. Or if you weren't satisfied, if you have a battlemage to spare, my magicka stores are sufficient for another, slightly different demonstration."

Gilane

Ah, the air of Gilane...freshest breeze in the region. Kira leaned against City Hall, her hands resting idly behind her head. She puffed from a thin cigar, which rested at the corner of crimson lips. Green eyes darted to the Imperial leaving the building. Interest piqued and with an enthusiastic pep in her step she approached, with the tone of a salesman...or devil with a bargain...or both.

"..I know Jarod hired you, you have that look about, capable. I'm also going to assume he handed you a map...if you wouldn't mind an extra hand familiar with the lay of the land, language, and people I could be a great asset. I just ask you bring me along...damn it to the sixteen hells, you could even have the reward to yourself." she added with a wink and smirk, emitting smoke from the noxious cheap cigar. Kira had a way with getting things, whatever they may be, no matter how hard it was to find. If someone needed it she could retrieve it, something she would offer to the table.

"I'm a fixer around these parts, I arrange for things those unconnected cannot manage."

Her Cyrodiil, in Colovian dialect was flawless. The lass traveled often, and more often than not the chosen language of the people was the tongue of the Septim Dynasty.
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Sentinel, Theater

Haroun listened to Wilfred, the grave talks over meant that now he could talk a bit more casually. He spoke in Yoku, of the Dune dialect, for his words would have been hard to find in any other tongue.

"I cannot say it was a pleasure as much as a stringent lesson to have been mentored by one who pursued the arts of Nudra-hi. It is your form of Galerionic schools and principles, bending the laws of what we know to your will, bastardizing what us Ra Gada consider natural. It is useful at times yes, your army was subdued with the aid of it, but it takes from what is pure...and demonizes it until no longer resembles what it was." he rolled his eyes at his own droll, "Bah, forgive me for lecture. Now is not the time, nor the place."

However his mind drifted to Aryon, he was an adviser to Haroun and was a mentor in the sciences the Elden Yokeda so loved. Perhaps too interested in the weaponry Hammerfell possessed, the greed of a man found in a Mer. Haroun knew one day Aryon would betray him, the man betrayed his own King to serve in the court of some foreign lord? Preposterous. Perhaps Aryon sensed Haroun's mistrust never eased, and left before he thought the Elden Yokeda would have him killed. However without word or hint, he left.

The night continued as did the play, met with applause and great review. The citizens of Sentinel enjoyed the festival until early morning. Eventually, the Elden Yokeda and his own retired to the Palace...awaiting the dreaded days to come.

Sentinel, Early Morning

Cyrus, Sentinel

Magnus's fiery gaze beat down upon Illiac Bay with great intensity, it was mid-day on the second day of the festivals honoring the late High King. Cyrus's ship cut through the water as it maneuvered into the grand harbor of Sentinel. The harbor was bustling with activity, ships loading and unloading cargo of all sorts, most was supplies for the festivals such as food and drink.

A loud knock brought Cyrus out of his deep concentration, he sat at a desk in the captains quarters looking over maps of the areas around Taneth and Roseguard. Even though it had not been announced publicly Cyrus knew that a war was coming, and he was going to be prepared when it happened. Cyrus rose from his chair and walked over to the door of the cabin, unlatching the large iron bolt the door swung open to reveal the first mate of the ship.

"Captain, we have reached Sentinel."

"Thank you, have the guard prepare."

The first mate replied with a short bow "Yes captain."

The first mate then hurried off to carry out his orders and Cyrus closed the door and walked over to the stands that held his armor and weapons. His polished adamantium lamellar armor glimmered slightly in the candle light of the cabin. Cyrus took the the padded shirt that sat next to the stand and slid it on, tightening the leather straps so that it fit snuggly, he did the same for the padded pants that also sat next to stand. He then took the adamantium cuirass from the stand and and slid it on over the padded shirt, once again tightening the thick leather straps so that the armor fit snuggly. Cyrus did the same for each piece of armor until he was completely clad in adamantium, save for his head. Cyrus then carefully removed his ornate falcatas from their stands, placing them in the crossed sheaths on his back. He then walked over to the desk, upon it was a small wooden stand that held one of his most prized possessions. Upon it was an ebony mask, on the forehead of the mask was a sword impaling an ivory crown, the blade running down between the eyes to his nose. Set into the hilt of the sword and into the band of the crown where blood red rubies, other than those features the mask was simple, expressionless, cold. The mask symbolized everything that Cyrus was, loyal, calculating, and deadly. The sword and crown symbolizing the unity between the crowns and forebears, the rubies experience on the battlefield, and the black ebony the mask was made of symbolizing death itself. The mask itself looked ominous, the lack of expression gave it a serene and peaceful look, however then color and symbols it carried were dark and cold. Cyrus picked up the mask and placed it upon his face.

The plates off Cyrus's armor made little noise as the slid across each other, every one of them polished and oiled to perfection. The ship had docked and on it's deck stood four well armed and armored Ra'Gada, two held an ornate chest in between them. Cyrus nodded to them and then fell in behind him as he began to exit the ship. Cyrus and his guards made their way through the bustling city to the palace. It's beauty and grandness surpassed that even of the White Gold Tower in Cyrodiil. The large ornate doors swung open as Cyrus and his party entered into the main hall of the palace. Cyrus had been to the palace on many occasions yet every time he was dumbstruck by the sheer awesomeness and beauty of it.

Cyrus walked down the grand hall up to the throne, upon it was one of the most influential and powerful men in all of Tamriel, the High King of the Yokudan Empire, Haroun Do Ashir Hel Ansei. Cyrus approached the throne, bowing low, Cyrus had great respect for the High King,

"It is an honor to be present here at the festivals, I offer my greatest apologies for arriving late, there were important matters in Stros M'Kai that had to be dealt with."

Meeting Room, Rihad Keep

The Knight Commander could not help but marvel at this bizarre mer's magical prowess. He was barely able to stop himself from gaping in awe as the masked elf used magic to hold fifteen of the room's elaborate armchairs in the air around him. The amazed Terentius stepped back a few paces across the wooden floor and paused, just trying to take in the sight. He had seen impressive feats of magic during the Oblivion Crisis, but a guild mage hurling a blast of lightning or a Dremora Kynval summoning an Atronach couldn't match the striking elegance of the Altmer's display. Vorandaril's mental strength must have been tremendous, since he was able to focus on holding the chairs in place while speaking.

"There is one other thing I would like to discuss. I wish to work on a spell that temporarily saps a victim's knowledge and memories, but I will need subjects to experiment on, preferably prisoners. With a little more work, I could revolutionize interrogation. And don't worry, neither the experimentation nor the end result should cause any lasting damage, physical or otherwise, to the prisoners." said the foreign mage, chairs still floating around him. Terentius snapped out of his reverie, realizing it was time for negotiations. Alright. Pull it together. Stop looking like a [censored] and do something.

"I believe we already have a skilled interrogator," said Stanet, his thoughts turning back to the Paralictor Lysandra who had also attended the meeting with the Yokudan Empire's delegation. "Although I can see the applications such a spell might have on the battlefield." he finished as Vorandaril returned all of the chairs to their former positions one by one.

"If you wish, we can further discuss my research prospects, which would surely benefit you as much as they would benefit me. Or if you weren't satisfied, if you have a battlemage to spare, my magicka stores are sufficient for another, slightly different demonstration." said the High Elf to Stanet.

"I assure you that I'm quite satisfied with your demonstration. There is no need for you to test yourself on one of the order's battlemages. As for your research prospects, you need only tell me what sorts of materials you need access to, and I'll make sure we acquire them from the Mages' Guild."

Coast north of Rihad, later that night

A cool breeze swept over the sandy hill by the beach, dispersing the detritus kicked up by the hooves of the horses as they came to a stop at the summit of the hill. Quintus Aventurnus, a Lictor of the Knights of the Nine sat mounted atop his expensive bay warhorse, dressed in steel armor that shone slightly in the dim lights of Masser and Secunda. Flanking him were two knights dressed similarly for combat, swords sheathed at their sides. Quintus wasn't entirely sure how necessary it was to come prepared for combat to a demonstration of a mercenary band, but orders were orders, and the Knight Commander had been quite clear. Terentius had always seemed oddly fixated on flashy appearances and splendor, which was peculiar for a man from Bravil. Maybe he's just obsessed with glamor and chivalry because it's new to him? thought Quintus briefly with a chuckle, which drew odd looks from his companions (although they were too professional to say anything).

The Night-Eye spells all three knights had cast allowed them a clear view of the ocean and the ships of the Crimson Blades. The reflections of the twin moons of Nirn on the calm sea were broken by the mercenary fleet, visible in all of its organization and discipline in the eerie blue-shaded vision of the knights. Torch flames that appeared almost white shone across the darker-blue forms of the ships themselves, although from the knights' perspective, their illumination was cancelled by their Night-Eye spell, washed away in a flood of calm and plain azure hues. Thousands of Dunmer and Nords could be seen moving about on the decks of the ships, which ranged in size from a huge and imposing flagship to smaller landing craft. Quintius turned to the knight to his immediate left.

"Sir Latham, give them the signal." he ordered.

"Yes, Lictor!" replied the young Breton knight eagerly. He had only attained the status of a full knight a month ago, and he was anxious to prove his worth to his superiors. A bright and flowing flame formed around his hand, a full white under his Night-Eye spell, and he pointed up into the sky, discharging the flare high up into the night air. Its blazing orange and red form was unmistakable and could be spotted for miles under such clear conditions.

"And now we wait." said Quintus contendedly, curious to see how the mercenaries would handle an amphibious landing.

Aryn, just off the coast

Aryn stood atop the deck of The Leviathan, his skin crawled with anxiety as he waited for the signal from the shore. He knew what was at stake and knew that this had to be carried out flawlessly. Then his eyes locked onto it, a small orange light flew from the beach into the sky. Adrenaline coursed through his body as he took action,

"That's the signal! Begin the assault!" he bellowed across the deck.

Immediately a soldier in the crows nest shot a blue jet of flame into the air, then like clockwork every ships deck came to life. The crews of the ships lowering the landing craft into the water, more soldiers emerging from below deck and taking their places, the battlemages invigorating the rowers of the landing craft, the assault had begun. Sixty landing craft loaded with pike-men and swordsmen now sped towards the beach with great speed. A battlemage stood in the center of each vessel, magicka flowing from their hands and into the men rowing the boats giving them the strength and endurance that allowed for the boats to move with such speed.

In a matter of minutes the landing craft had reached the beach, the front's of the boats letting down like gates as 4500 soldiers rushed onto the beach taking the position of a large phalanx shield wall. The pike-men took the the front 3 rows, the first with their shields up and pikes out in front of them. The swordsmen gathered behind them forming the next 3 rows.

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Athanden, The Leviathan

There was another loud knock on Athanden's door, he opened it once again to reveal Aryn,

"Athanden, the first wave has landed. The landing craft are returning for the second wave as we speak, the shock troops and cavalry and preparing to land."

Athanden smiled, everything was working as planned. "Good, I will board the next vessel."

A few minutes later

The crew yelled in unison as they cranked the large wheel that brought the landing craft up to the deck, Athanden and 75 heavily armed and armored shock troops marched across the deck and then onto the craft. Two horses emerged from below the deck, led by Aryn who was now in his own steel armor, both boarded the landing craft also. Athanden grabbed the reins of the jet black horse from Aryn and stroked the side of the horse's face. It was a gift from a noble in Cheydinhall for Athanden's protection from the daedric hordes during the oblivion crisis.

Athanden turned to the crew on the deck, "Give the order."

Then just as the first time, another jet of blue flame shot from the crows nest of The Leviathan and the second wave had started. Once again 60 landing craft hit the water and sped towards the beach, this time laden with heavy shock troops, calvary and archers. The vessels impacted the beach, letting their large front gates down allowing for the men to rush forward. The shock troops formed into a tight group at the center of the force with the calvary forming a long line behind the phalanx and the archers taking position behind the rest of the forces. Athanden mounted his horse and began to ride down the beach, inspecting the troops, Aryn followed behind him.

The landing couldn't have gone better, the troops were assembled perfectly on the beach. Athanden smiled, the Knight Commander would have to be idiot to refuse the aid of the Crimson Blades especially after this performance.

Belisarius, Rihad Meeting

Belisarius considered the man's proposal to challenge his men to race towards the city and he barely kept himself from laughing out loud by feigning an expression of concern that flashed across his face. He bowed low and rose from his chair, as Vhosek did the same. "Then I must be off."

They swept from the room with confidence and found their way out of the castle. Once they were clear of the Knights influence, both Belisarius and Vhosek began to laugh.

"What a fool!" chuckled Belisarius who felt smug after fooling the Knight at the meeting. His men weren't that far away. They were barely three hours away from where Belisarius had stood upon the rocks, watching the High King arrive at the city. If his men had rushed, they could have been at the city before dawn probably but Dalvus had gone back before they could tell him to have the men march quickly. It was likely they would sleep the night, and move out after sunrise to arrive past noon but well before the appointed time.

"And they'll be so fresh from the easy pace and good sleep." exclaimed Belisarius who patted his friend jovially on the shoulder and moved out.

As expected, they found Justin and Praxedes at the tavern they had agreed on; one they had stayed at when they had first passed through the city. They sat down at the table held by their friends and Belisarius told them of the meeting, of the Knight Stanet and the different mercenaries he expected to be useful or trouble.

"Would you like to attend the meeting tomorrow?" he asked his brother. "Keep them on their toes, like we are a split personality." he chuckled.

"I think that would be interesting but I would not want you to miss out brother. Come in disguise and enjoy the show, for if what you tell me, this Athanden will be scratching his head at how polite you will suddenly have become." he chuckled, sipping his mead. "Besides, I will need you to help outline our plans. At least the parts you have in mind."

The four friends laughed at how easily they had gotten the job, how foolish and manipulative the Knight seemed and especially how competitive and proud the Dunmer Athanden was. It promised to be an adventure none of them would forget soon.

Rihad, Keep

"I assure you that I'm quite satisfied with your demonstration. There is no need for you to test yourself on one of the order's battlemages. As for your research prospects, you need only tell me what sorts of materials you need access to, and I'll make sure we acquire them from the Mages' Guild."

The Knight Commander was clearly awed by Vorandaril's display. Good, it appears he no longer questions my skills. He was a bit taken aback that they already had someone clearly skilled in interrogation, but it was no matter. When the war began, there would be no shortage of prisoners that he could experiment on. And he had more important research to pursue in the meantime.

"I need resources on enchanting. I will need texts on the subject of enchanting, for a start. I do not care about specifics of what text; get whatever you can acquire. I will also require a number of weak soul gems for purposes of experimentation. I may require more than this, but this should provide a start for me. And there may be other things I will require that I am not yet aware of. But for now, that is all I require. But until then, is there anything else you wish to talk about or should I take my leave? As I understand you are due to observe the other mercenaries give their own demonstrations and I would not want to keep you waiting. And is there anything you wish of me for the time being?"

That seemed to sum it all up. Hopefully nobody in the Mages Guild still remembered him. And hopefully the Knight Commander would have something for Vorandaril to do.

Rihad
Captain Camille Leon

A small frown crossed over Camille’s face as the Knight Commander addressed her as ‘Lady Leon’. She was certain that he knew she was no Lady, and was instead using the term to mock her. She didn’t like being mocked, and especially hated when people didn’t call her Captain. But she got over it quickly as she listened to the other mercenaries pitch themselves to the Commander. She was especially intrigued by the Altmer, Vorandaril. He was obviously a very capable mage, if a bit of an eccentric dresser. We could use some more mages in the crew. People like him. Doubt he’d join us, though, she thought.

And then the Dunmer and Belisarius took control of the meeting with their growing aggression towards each other. Camille was seriously having trouble containing laughter as the pair seemed like they were going to start a fight. But then they calmed down, the meeting ended, and they cleared out. Camille’s face showed slight disappointment due to not getting to see a fight, but she quickly shook it off. She got up and walked out of the room, following the other mercenaries.

So that went pretty well, all things considered. Just got to wait for the letter of marque to be delivered, and we can set out. Hopefully it’s done soon. The quicker we’re back out at sea, the better, thought Camille as she walked through the empty streets of Rihad, heading towards the docks. I have time for a quick stop, don’t I? Yeah, I do. She chuckled to herself as she examined the streets, finding the busiest bar around. Finding one, she entered and, sure enough, found several members of her crew getting drunk. Heading over next to them, Camille ordered a drink and joined in the revelry.

First Mate Jacob

Jacob rested in a crate as Kraven and Shavaash carried the various crates towards the house. He wasn’t exactly comfortable, but he distracted himself by reviewing the plan in his head. Step one: get himself, Kraven, and Shavaash into the house; Step two: do something exciting; Step three: profit! Simple as can be, Jacob thought, trying to keep his breaths as quiet as possible as the he felt himself stop moving and heard Kraven and Shavvash exchange words with a guard.

He felt slightly nervous as he heard the guard begin walking by the crates without saying anything. He held his breath as the footsteps paused outside of his crate, but released it as the guard continued away and said for them to continue. He felt himself start moving again for several minutes before he felt a discreet knocking on his crate that signaled it was about time for him to move. And sure enough, Jacob soon heard Shavaash’s voice talking to a guard.

Jacob discreetly removed the back of his crate and poked his head over the edge of it. He saw Shavaash speaking to the guards, thus getting them to turn their backs on the crates. Jacob caught Shavaash’s eye as he got out quietly and gave him a thumbs up. He quickly replaced the back of the crate and silently exited the room. He carefully maneuvered through the hallways, luckily only encountering one guard, who was knocked out from behind and hidden in a closet. Eventually, Jacob arrived at a back window and stealthily opened it, helping Kraven and Shavaash in.

Kraven motioned to follow him, and Jacob did, staying alert behind Shavaash. Eventually, Kraven led them to the Slave Quarters. There were four guards there, two inside with the slaves themselves and two standing alert outside. Unfortunately, there was no way they could get to the slaves without attracting their attentions. The three men looked at each other, and nodded. Kraven readied his spear, and jumped around the corner, throwing the spear into one of the guards before charging forward and slaying the other. The guards standing inside with the slaves spun around at the cries of their comrades, only to be met with Shavaash and quickly slain. Jacob was impressed, and followed them into the slave quarters, quickly freeing them from their shackles. Kraven asked which one of the slaves was the sister of a ‘Praxades’ and a brown haired Imperial stepped forward. Kraven nodded and Jacob said to the assembled slaves of all races, “All right, guys, we’re here to save you. Follow us.”

The slaves smiled and some gave quiet cheers before falling in line behind the trio of rescuers. They quickly made their way through the house way, luckily encountering no more guards. But then, when they were close to the back window, they ran into a middle aged woman and a teenage girl. The middle-aged woman said, “You … you … I’ll call the guards … I will, I swear!” Jacob paused, unwilling to hurt a woman, let alone two. He noticed Kraven had the same reaction. But then Shavaash stepped forward and motioned for Jacob, Kraven and the slaves to continue on, obviously saying that he would deal with the woman and the girl.

Kraven led the slaves away from Shavaash and Jacob, after a moment’s hesitation, followed. They got out of the house and began running away with the slaves, eventually making it back to an abandoned pier on the docks. After a couple minutes of sitting tiredly in silence, Shavaash caught up and sat down on the pier. Jacob nodded at him before saying to Kraven, “All right, so what now?”

Sentinel, Throne Room of the Grand Palace

The massive, golden doors to the Throne Room were opened vigorously, behind them entered Cyrus of Stros M'kai. One of Ruhk's most capable retainers and an excellent soldier. Forebear who revered the ancient ways just as much as the Elden Yokeda, he was seen in good light within Haroun's eyes.

The circular pane of glass directly above the throne cast golden sunlight into the room, landing and resting within a few feet from the throne itself. Awaiting the party of guests was the Elden Yokeda himself, alone. Dressed in silken black, top and pantloons, with highly polished boots for military ceremony, a red sash, and golden Yokudan symbols adorning his torso, Haroun brandished a mock version of the very same armor he wore during the Siege of Sentinel.

Smiling at seeing an old friend, however unfamiliar they were, Haroun raised himself from his seat. At times the Elden Yokeda could enjoy some happiness, however brief. His smile faded soon however as Haroun remembered sentencing one of his 'uncles' to be drawn and quartered within this very room, a man who shared the same name as Haroun's current guest.

"Cyrus, you owe no apology to me. Administration and service to our people will always come first, much is to be discussed within time, as the delegation within Rihad has decided their own fate as well as that of our own people."

The Elden Yokeda would soon be surrounded by his military as well as the logistical and political sides of government. War was to be declared.


Earlier that morning...

The Elden Yokeda's room, to fit his reputation of a King without end to appetite, was grandly luxurious. Massive in and of itself, teak floors, Elsweyr woven carpets and tapestries, and the very often unused grand sized bed. He was almost positive his wife would sleep in it even as he was gone, but more than often even as he resided in Sentinel, he found sleep in only short periods and often on the throne itself.

He wore nothing but wide silken pants, the closest thing he'd ever wear to pajamas. His heavily tattooed frame standing at the end of his colossal bed, he watched as his wife slept soundly, her brown skin and curves accenting the sheets as if only she could ever belong there. A frown formed on his face until a fat palm raised up to change it into a smile.

He looked down at his daughter, "Young Princess...let us give your mother rest." he carried off Andromeda outside the room, stepping into silk slippers which awaited him just outside the door. Although his room was large enough to be a home itself, it was a much smaller part to the manor within the Palace, the very same Manor his father had resided in.

Azrael, head of Tervola approached the King. His armor not donned, instead he wore heavily bandaged hands, waist, and rough cotton pants.

"I've told the handmaidens to attend to the child...you and I have a good few hours."

A careful female attendant, one he did not recognize waited in a bow. She looked up to the King, a defiant and hungry look in her eye.

"Princess Andromeda will be in good hands your Majesty, we shall have a picnic in the Hanging Gardens today."

A smirk and quick look over and he handed over his daughter. As the handmaiden walked away Haroun smiled to Azrael, "Whats her name?"

"Amalia, now come. I'd like to see how the King's old age has diminished his skill."

Training in the Best-Known-Cuts with Azrael of the Invincible Four, Kings and Emperors would kill for the opportunity, yet so would most Ansei for the chance to train with the Elden Yokeda...HoonDing and undefeated Ansei.

Cyrus, Sentinel Throne Room


The Elden Yokeda stood from his throne and smiled briefly as Cyrus bowed before him,

"Cyrus, you owe no apology to me. Administration and service to our people will always come first, much is to be discussed within time, as the delegation within Rihad has decided their own fate as well as that of our own people."

Cyrus stood upright, a grim yet excited expression took form under his mask, "So then the peace talks have failed? It is as I have predicted, they have poisoned the minds of our kinsmen, they sit as a puppet upon the hand of the Knights. If you do not mind I would like to attend the war councils, I am no general or Yokeda however
I feel as though I may be able to offer some help if need be......Oh and I have a gift for your highness."

Cyrus turned and motioned towards the two guards who carried the chest, they both approached, placing the ornate chest on the floor in front of the throne.

"I offer you the finest silks from Stros M'Kai." Said Cyrus as the guard opened the chest.

Draken Decumus Vladmirius, Sentinel.

Draken Decumus Vladmirius was not as disappointed as he imagined he would be, but yet he held no love for the display. As latest play ended, Draken saw that it was time to retreat back into the comfortable confines of darkness as the light rose in the horizon. Morning was soon to come and Draken's place was to rest. While it was not impossible for his kind to survive in daylight, it was custom to sleep the day away. While his kind adopted most mortal traits, his kind still had the need to live by their own tradition. He looked around and saw most of the people leave the Sentinel Theater for food and drink. Draken thought on the days that would soon follow, he would have to kill every night in order for him to keep appearances. While that was not a problem back in Cyrodiil, in Sentinel it could be much more problematic for a number of reasons; This was not his feeding territory. The Selenu has a cartel agreement with the Montalion and the other unfortunate collection of pathetic excuses who call themselves vampires. Draken could not interfere with their petty battles. A greater problem than that was Haroun. If he was to be near the King of Sentinel and his wife, he would have to at least have a mortal schedule. While sleeping the day away was not as odd as wandering in shadow, it was still unprofessional and amateurish, just as succumbing to revelry in such appointed hours.

He walked around the Theater District as the sun began to rise. He studied his surroundings and saw that the Yokudans loved to wear masks. Draken placed his fist under his chin as he stood. Perhaps if I purchase one, the situation can weight lighter than before, Draken thought. But as he walked toward the merchant tent, he realized that most who wore masks were not Imperials, nor Dunmers nor Argonians, but redguards...and the yokudans themselves. But this was crucial and he had to do what he thought was the best idea. To hide behind a facade, a masquerade. It was indeed a perfect example of Avant-Garde. A vampire masquerading to be human hiding behind a mask of deceit. Draken smiled to himself and went to purchase the mask. While it was not as elegant and beautifully crafted as the ones he saw back in the palace, he thought it was safe to say it sufficed. He exchanged fair bit of gold for the mask and went his merry way to his own rented quarters near the edge of the bay. The palace would be the best place for him to dwell, but a man who seldom shows his presence in daylight will raise questions. I was safe to bet that his presence was required elsewhere. But not all was lost, Draken had an idea that would soon aid him in this matter, it is something his sister would of done.


The Undead Imperial left to his quarters, he walked up the stairs and made sure no one followed. Once inside, Draken locked his doors and allowed the dark curtains to keep the light from invading the room. He sat on the chair and pulled out some ink and parchment from the desk. Then he began writing a letter that would hopefully benefit him. As he was done writing the large piece of paper, Draken placed it in an envelope kept it safe in his desk. The day's concerns would be best discarded for now. All he had to d was slumber and allow the work to be done for him.

Kraven Desselius & Shavaash Opress, RIhad Docks.

Shavaash, Kraven and Jacob successfully entered the home and rescued the slaves. The task was far easier than Kraven hoped it would be, fortune was granted to him and no innocent slave was harmed. The Imperial looked at Praxede's sister and smiled to her. "Your sister awaits you in the tavern."

The girl smiled and hugged Kraven. "My heart swells with gratitude!"

Kraven slowly pushed her away and nodded. "Then see it deflate. Now go, before you are discovered."

With that being said, her and few of the other slaves went their own ways to forge their own lives. Their survival now was their own responsibility. Kraven's job was finished, so was Shavaashe's. Shavaash arrived a few minutes later, joining with Kraven and Jacob. The khajiit quickly took a seat and wiped a bit of sweat off of his forehead. He was eager to leave the location. Kraven shot him a glance and nodded respectfully.

"What has become of the noble woman and her daughter?" Kraven asked.

"Woman not harmed. Neither is girl," Shavaash hissed lowly "Shavaash had---

Kraven scratched his chin. "Set details of it aside , and shift mind to our departure. We must leave at once if they are alive. They will report our presence. Our work here in Rihad is finished." Then Jacob asked what would happen at the moment. Shavaash got up and turned his back on the two humans. He looked at the sun rising off the coast and began thinking. He wasn't so sure what to do now. He was planning to do so much more, but time did not allow it. He looked at Kraven and sighed.


The long-haired Imperial turned his attention to Jacob "When shall your ship set sail from these docks? Would it be possible for Shavaash and I to seek refuge in your ship? Will your captain allow it?"

Arethan, Rihad

He listened as the sly assassin replied, asking about the stone which had haunted the Dunmer for weeks. He took a slight stare towards the bag, which was now noticeably empty. A cold glimpse shot its way up toward Rithe, as Arethan's audacity was carefully placed that those outside could not hear.

"Vaermina..."

Arethan had to say no more, as Rithe would be familiar with the workings of Daedra. Arethan was only now somewhat thankful that it would not bind his soul to Oblivion for a mere eternity. He looked carefully down at the bag again, as the nightmares and darkness which feasted upon his memory came back to him, rushing bitterness into his veins.

Kurush, Road North of Taneth

The lightning bolt shot towards the young heir to his tribe, striking his horse with a quick shot. The young nomad threw his shield up with enough time to spare to save himself from a potentially harmful blow. This, however, did not stop the horse from losing its own balance. Kurush collapsed off his mount's back, using a protective roll to make his way across the dirt. As he regained his standing form, the young Tavaro pulled two spheres from respective pouches along his waist. He lodged them into the air towards the figure that had just attacked him. The black globes flew into the night, headed straight toward the head and shoulders of his foe.

These globes that had been thrown were filled with glass shards, made from animal stomachs and the burnt sand of the desert, which formed the material inside the sphere. While usually not fatal to their victim, the glass shards were nuisance if they were to lodge themselves into the joints of knights, or even under their briast plates. If one's eyes were filled with these shards, then the individual would be disabled and hopefully incapable of fighting.

Smoke began to rise up around the knights from the passing horseman. Those who had used their spears now began to draw their slings. Kurush, shield on back, turned to run after lodging his weapon towards his foe. With dust about, hopefully the knights would not manage to see him.

Ruhk, Throne Room

"Indeed, they rival the best of Sentinel."

Ruhk made his way into the room, speaking on such a timely manner that Haroun could not respond to his general before he did. He nodded towards his general, acknowledging that he had noticed his friend's presence. Ruhk made his way to the throne, taking one knee and bowing at his King's feet. Though Haroun was a close friend and relative, the young Crown held his role as a King to high importance.

"Cousin, it is good to know of your safety."

Ruhk slowly stood back up to his feet, drawing his keen eyes to his cousin's, the King's. The smile which had appeared from the joy of Haroun's safety quickly disappeared, only to be replaced with the grim frown that held only one memory: the gruesomeness of war.

"War was anticipated. I've heard of the news. Sobotai prepares the soldiers in Stros as we speak. And this man..."

Ruhk motioned towards Cyrus.

"...has done a great job at training the southern navy over the past few months. I fought in the War of the Wolves, on the front line of battle against those who trespass upon our land. You are as my brother, Haroun, and I shall fight again when Onsi permits. We have things of war to discuss, important matters which need to be dealt with."

His face returned to a less sad expression, though it was still dim. His cousin had likely expected Ruhk to offer his sword in the war. After all, Ruhk had even disobeyed his father to fight in the Siege of Sentinel at barely and advlt's age. His memory then turned to his bodyguard and advisor, Amaru, who was working in the celebrations within the city.

"Tell me, did Amaru's service fair well?"

OOC: Will reply for Cyrus later, want to get this stuff with Arethan and Rithe out of the way so we can move on.

Rithe, Rihad

Rithe was curious as to what Arethan's answer to his question would be, then the fellow Dunmer spoke softly so that only the people present could hear,

"Vaermina..."

Rithe was surprised at first but then it began to make sense to him, Mephala sent him here because of a deal with Vaermina or something of that sort. Rithe replied,

"That is....interesting to say the least. My task is beginning to make more sense now." Rithe began to pace around the bizarre room, "No doubt you have questions to ask me, it is better that we deal with them now so that this animosity that you carry can be dismissed."

Rithe walked over to a nearby table sliding out a chair and taking a seat, he motioned for Arethan to sit also. Rithe could feel the pure aura of magick that emanated from Arethan, he was very powerful, something that Rithe might be able to use to his advantage. Hmm...could he possibly possess enough power?....No, he is too much of a wild card, I can't trust him with such things.... Thought Rithe as he observed Arethan.

EDIT: said the wrong name

Arethan, Rihad

Arethan took his seat in front of the assassin carefully, still aware of his surroundings and ready for any sudden movements the Dunmer would potentially make. Servyn made his way to stand behind Rithe, being in a position to cover the assassin if he really was a hostile hunter to the former Her-Hand. Arethan's eyes stared down into the assassin's before him, giving him a stern, cold look. Servyn asked the first question before Arethan had a chance to arrive upon it.

"What's your purpose here. That's the most obvious question. You're an assassin, and we've dealt with assassins for years. Tong affiliated as well...you even knew Arethan's name. At least the Daedra deemed you innocent. I suppose you'd better explain yours-"

Before Servyn could continue, Arethan's voice flamed up in a bit of anger.

"What do you know of the one called 'Serosi'?"

Rithe listened as the two Dunmer began to interrogate him,

"I'll start with your companions question since it is the least complicated of the two." Replied Rithe as he relaxed in the chair trying to make himself seem as unimposing as possible.

"My purpose here is to aid Arethan, I was sent by my master..."Rithe said the word with great distaste, "The Daedric prince Mephala. I am no longer an active member of the Morag Tong and despite the marks I bare I've have never had any affiliation with the Dark Brotherhood, may Azura curse their souls." Once again his voice expressing his opinions on the brotherhood. Rithe turned to Arethan,

"As for Serosi, also know as Elegant, I know him by name and deed only. We both served in the Morag Tong around the same time, however I have heard nothing of him since my...departure from the tong. I know that he was close with one of the greatest members of our guild, a man who goes by the name of Crane. Both are extremely skilled, however none more skilled than I." Rithe paused to allow Arethan to comment.

Arethan, Rihad

Arethan's eyes squinted angrily at Rithe's reference to the Tong.

So he was one of those bastards, but now he's a deserter, a throwout. I wonder if they hate him, if they're looking for him too. And the bastard's helping me...

Only a few tong assassins had been fortunate enough to lay eyes upon Arethan. The number dwindled when turned into those who were able to track him, or even attempt at slaying him. No being who had made an attempt on Arethan's life had gotten away alive. For a moment, he had thought Rithe to be another Tong assassin: good at his profession, but not powerful enough to slay Arethan Andas, last of the Her-Hands of Amalexia, former bodyguard of King Helseth, friend of the King of Markarth Side, and wanted 'criminal' by Morrowind's very own Tribunal Temple.

No assassin had found him for some time. The last attempt on his life was made before he left for High Rock, nearly a year ago. No member of the Tong dared to try him in High Rock, and after Arethan had long deserted, the tong agents seemed to lose all trace of the Dunmer they had hunted for more than ten years. Now, in the days after the Septim Empire, it would be dangerous for any Tong agent to follow a target outside of Morrowind. Sighted assassinations would be nothing of legal institution, but mere murder.

Arethan spoke up.

"Do you know, exactly, who I am, or what I used to be?"

Rithe, Rihad

Rithe could see Arethan's anger grow when he said he was a former member of the tong. Arethan sat in silence for a moment, obviously thinking things over before he replied. The Arethan finally spoke up,

"Do you know, exactly, who I am, or what I used to be?" Asked Arethan.

Rithe chuckled, "I should ask you the same, it would answer your question." Rithe leaned forward adopting a more serious expression, "From the powerful magickal aura that surrounds you I presume that you are a capable battlemage, which would further back up my assumption that you are a former Hand of Almalexia.....Yes I did see you slip that rather intricate gauntlet on in the tavern, I have only seen one like it on one occasion while carrying out a writ in Mournhold." Rithe paused for a moment, "You also seem to be rather paranoid which would prompt you to aggression which I have seen first hand, pairing that with your dislike of assassin's particularly those of the Morag Tong I presume that you have a standing writ for your execution." Rithe paused once again allowing what he had said to sink in, "So my final conclusion is that you are a former Hand of Almalexia on the run from the Morag Tong, which would make you a very very powerful adversary...as well as ally."

Servyn, Rihad

Curiosity got the better of Servyn, who now had thoughts about Rithe's own situation and why he was sent to aid him. Perhaps this information would prove useful. The young Dunmer spoke up from behind while Arethan was still taking the information given to him in.

"What's this bond you have to Mephala. Why do you serve her. I assume from your expressions it wasn't your choice? And what task did she give you? Why are you here to aid us?"

Rithe, Rihad

Rithe's entire expression changed, visions of his past flashed before his eyes,

----------------------------------------
Rithe sat there kneeling on the cold stone floor, a statue of Mephala standing in front of him, it's eye's glowing black as the ominous voice pervaded the room,

"So, you have returned, where is the other assassin that you spoke of?" The voice was cold and felt as though it would steal your very soul should you give it the chance,

"He choose not to come my lord, he was foolish."

"Ahh that is...unfortunate. But we will still carry on."

A million thoughts ran through Rithe's mind as he began to have second thoughts about his decision.

"The terms of our agreement are still the same, I will see that you have safe passage from this land in return for your servitude until your death, do you still agree to these terms?"

Sweat dripped from Rithe's forehead, he thought about saying no, but then he remembered the sight of the daedra pouring from the crimson gates and slaughtering everything in their path.

"Yes my lord."

Mephala began to chuckle, the a swirling black vortex opened where the statue was and there standing in the black void was the daedric prince herself, the very sight of her chilled Rithe to the bone, his face drained of color as he beheld her in front of him. She raised one of her palms and from it a streak of purple light flew towards Rithe striking his forehead. Pain like no other he had ever experience shot through his body, he twisted and jolted on the cold stone floor as the purple haze around him turned black and condensed on his forehead.

Mephala's voice echoed through his head, "You are mine now, for all of eternity. Age nor illness shall not break the bonds of your servitude." She laughed continuously as Rithe continued to writhe in pain. The smokey haze began to take form as it penetrated his skin. Rithe's vision blurred and pulsed as the pain began to take him into a state of unconsciousness.

When he awoke he was surrounded by nothing but darkness, his head throbbed with pain and his face felt as though it had been stuck in the hot coals of a fire. Rithe forced himself to his feet.......What have I done?

--------------------------------------------------------
The memory faded as Rithe pulled himself back into reality,

"I made a contract with Mephala, to serve her until my death in return for safe passage form Vvardenfell before it's destruction in the invasion. However I was tricked.." Rithe looked away for a moment, hate swelling within him,

"That is not important though." Said Rithe as the veins on his forehead began to swell and pulse as his anger took hold of him. He paused once again, allowing himself to calm down slightly before he replied, "I was tasked with aiding Arethan in his search for Serosi, I was not told why."