OOC: Posts incoming for Terentius and Quintus Aventurnus. Expect those later tonight; I just needed to get this one in for Swims before Asap and Wooly finished the whole scene.

IC:

Swims-in-Shadows, Rihad

Swims-in-Shadows observed silently as Arethan and Servyn furiously interrogated the suspicious-looking assassin, Rithe. For the most part, he didn't care about the conversation, although he didn't have much of a choice but to listen. At some point, they would have to get through their insipid ramblings and questions about Morrowind. Swims still had no idea why all Dunmer were so fixated on their homeland and insisted on speaking about it constantly. He had been there himself for quite some time, and found that it was in many ways even more detestable than the Alik'r; at least the Redguards didn't have legalized assassinations or cliff racers. Argonians only ever spoke of the Black Marsh when pressed, and even then, they never revealed details outsiders didn't already know. The Dunmer mindset was baffling to Swims, with their absurd pride, bizarre religion, and obsession with Morrowind.

"Do you know, exactly, who I am, or what I used to be?" asked Arethan. Rithe replied with far too many words for the Argonian's taste. Oh, wow, Arethan used to be a bodyguard to a dead goddess. Big deal. Swims' characteristic bitterness and annoyance remained beneath the surface for the time being, his inexpressive face refusing to surrender any information on his feelings or thoughts. He continued to listen to their conversation, waiting until he had an opportunity to speak in between his companions' questions and Rithe's answers.

"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?" asked Servyn with more than a hint of curiosity.

"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." said Rithe angrily as he looked away.

"That is not important though. I was tasked with aiding Arethan in his search for Serosi, I was not told why." finished the assassin, finally giving Swims a chance to speak.

"We don't need his whole damn life story." said Swims to Arethan and Servyn, his annoyance evident. "You people live way too long, and I don't have the patience for hearing more stories about Morrowind today. I think his explanation makes sense, and we could use some extra help in catching Serosi." he then turned to Rithe.

"And you think you're more skilled than Serosi? Is that a joke?" said the Argonian bandit mockingly. "You couldn't even find a way off of Vvardenfel without selling your soul to a Daedric Prince! I don't have a problem bringing you along with us, but get rid of your pride. You don't deserve to have it, since you're just Mephala's errand-boy. I know you ashborn find it difficult to put your arrogance aside, but underestimating Serosi would be a fatal mistake."

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Quintus Aventurnus, Coast north of Rihad

"Impressive." said the Lictor after the Crimson Blades had finished unloading their soldiers with incredibly rapidity onto the coast. "An odd place for the cavalry," he continued, noting their position behind the infantry, "but impressive nonetheless. What do you think, Sir Honmund?"

Sir Honmund, sitting mounted to the right of Aventurnus, nodded in approval of the mercenaries' landing. He had been chosen to accompany the Lictor and observe the assault because of his own experience in the Legion's navy before he had joined the Knights of the Nine.

"Quite impressive, sir." said the gruff brown-haired Nord. "I've seen my fair share of amphibious attacks from my Imperial Navy days, and this is as impressive as any of them. These men and mer are in top form. I say we recommend them to the Knight Commander, even if they don't quite know where to put their horseman."

"Agreed. Let's go inform them that they've passed Terentius' test." said Quintus contendedly. At least I got a good show out of all this. I thought Terentius sent me out here because he didn't want to waste his time watching the disaster that most mercs are at this sort of thing. But now I wish I had taken notes; we could use some expertise like this. Aventurnus spurred his horse and began to gallop down the hillside towards the mercenaries assembled on the coast. Sir Honmund followed suit, riding behind the Lictor. Sir Latham was stung that his commanding officer hadn't asked his opinion on the landing, but now wasn't the time to complain. He joined his fellow knights riding down to the Crimson Blades.

After a few minutes, the trio was a few dozen feet from the mercenary line. "Who's in charge here? Come forward!" shouted Quintus.

Rithe, Rihad

Rithe chuckled with amusemant, "I never said I was better than him, more like on par. You underestimate my abilities, and forget that while painful and horrid being a servant of Mephala is, it still has it's benefits. I do not underestimate Serosi, however I do not fear his power." Rithe leaned back in his chair once again,

"I know you do not trust me and see me as a foul creature to be disposed off, however our task requires us to work together and your hostility towards me is making it quite hard. If you do not wish to hear what we have to discuss then why accompany us to this room knowing that a long and in depth conversation awaited on the other side?"

This damned Argonian is going to be trouble... Thought Rithe as he waited for a reply.

Road north of Taneth

The enemy horseman managed to stop the brunt of the weak lightning bolt, but the spooked horse threw him off. Before the dust settled, an orb flew at Tarsius, striking the bottom of his helmet and shattering, scattering shards of something, probably glass. It had fortunately not struck his eyes, but he winced in pain as a few shards had flown through the breathing holes of his helmet. Just a little higher or to the side, and the shards could have entered his mouth or eyes. Other than that, he felt little underneath all the armor he wore. What kind of weapon was that? Not having time to ponder it or the damage it could cause, he jumped from the wagon to the ground, sword and shield in hand. As the dust cleared, he saw his foe running and the other horseman moving further away. But were they regrouping or withdrawing? Tarsius had to assume the worst.

Running back to the other wagons, to gather what knights he could. Many of them were wounded and others were attending them, so a good portion of his forces were unable to fight. The archers were mostly unharmed, although a number of them had lost their bows in the blaze that had overtaken their wagon.

"We need to cut the horses free of the burning wagons!" Tarsius shouted. Suddenly he felt pains in his shoulders and chest. It must have been that orb that had been thrown at him. The shards must have moved into his armor joints and underneath his armor. This wasn't good; even if the damage was miniscule, it would hamper him and until he removed his armor, healing would only run the risk of sealing the shards into his body.

"Archers, form up on me and ready your bows! They may be coming back for another pass!" The archers, or rather those that were still armed and in fighting condition, formed up on him, while the knights struggled to save the horses.

Jo'Khart and Arnand, Gilane

The pair expected the many eyes that followed them through the streets of Gilane, and they could not blame the many people for the rude way they stared at them. Arnad was simple looking enough for these times, armed and armored and walking with an air of authority about him that only a warrior could maintain. It was his companion that was drawing the looks and soon, the giggles. For walking on its hind legs, barely reaching his knees, and wearing a set of bright yellow and green robes was what most people assumed to be a large housecat. If the obvious stares bothered the small Dagi, he did not let it show and in fact he seemed obliviou so it all as he tried, in vain, to see the sign of the tavern they were searching for.

"Would you prefer to climb up?" asked his tall Breton friend with a chuckle.

"No no, that's quite alright." replied the Dagi, the joke lost to the Khajiit who always seemed distracted. He was in fact quite distracted as his mind wandered to his magickal experiments, particularly his recent attempts at combining several different spell effects to react differently with each other. "Sorry, miles away friend. Are we there yet?"

Arnand shook his head, more in disbelief at his friend then to answer the question. "Just a few more blocks I believe, if that last man was telling the truth."

Sure enough, as they rounded yet another corner in the twisting streets, they finally saw a sign marking their destination. They halted outside, making sure it was the right place that the man, Jarod, had told them to go to.

"I think I should like to hop up now, if you don't mind friend. A floor in a crowded bar is no place for one as small as myself, and I daresay I would accidentally blow someone up if they stepped on my tail."

With that, he deftly leaped up ontp his friends waiting shoulders and came to rest his back legs of Arnands right shoulder while placing a front paw to balance himself on his friends head. This drew more chuckles from the nearby crowd but Arnand, loyal friend, didn't seem to care as they entered the tavern, hoping to find their man with ease.

Sentinel, Grand Palace, Throne Room

The High King received Cryus' gift personally, adding a polite nod of the head. The Elden Yokeda grabbed one of the colored silks out of its elegant container and looked it over appreciatively.

"Such a thing of beauty, an excellent reminder of where I came from. Stros M'kai has not left my heart."

Roxanna had never witnessed the city built on an island, appearing a fortress from outside but filled with beauty within. Cyrus was an excellent military commander, one who would need further revision in the future. If he had any desire to strap his cousin of able men, it would be Cyrus and Amaru foremost on the list. He gently closed the small chest before looking up at his cousin, for being family the two had not spoken since his arrival. Formality and endeavors of the Empire made only for small talk during the prior night.

"Yes, my arrival so soon was unexpected, the council with Rihad was nothing more than a courtesy for civility's sake...or an attempt at it. Our words fell on deaf ears." The King relaxed from his position and chose to sit upon his throne, though informally. This was a discussion between men and nothing else, stating what had to be said. His words were not filled with anguish, although what had to be done would bring him pain...he closed himself off, perhaps a trait of Haroun...perhaps that of the HoonDing. Maybe the God's true power was to eliminate mercy, guilt, and compassion when it impeded on the progression of the Ra Gada as a whole. Such was what had happened during the Last War of Wolves, Haroun had killed all of his enemies without thought, only to be haunted after the acts were perpetuated.

His mind drifted back to the now, his distant gaze returning into his usual stare at those whom he spoke with.

"Nassir of the Falls, chosen representative for the confederation...no leader by any means. The man maintained his poise and composure for a very limited timeframe...one can say the scale was tipped once he offended Bomlikar's honor. Blades were drawn but blood was not shed. They understand war is on the horizon, I have yet to declare it."

In his ceremonial dress lied a pouch of the King's most sacred treasure, he reached within...removing an Esplendido, placing it to his mouth and igniting it with match.

"Tonight, a War Council shall be held."

Athanden, North of Rihad on the Coast

Athanden watched as a group of Knight's rode down from the hills near the beach, calling out for the leader of the mercenaries. The lines of soldiers parted to allow Athanden and Aryn to ride through.

"I am the one who leads this corps." Replied Athanden to answer the question of the Knights.

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Cyrus, Sentinel, Throne Room

Cyrus turned in surprise as he heard the voice of his old friend and governor of Stros M'Kai, Ruhk Ahkbar,

"Indeed, they rival the best of Sentinel."

The High King removed one of the delicately woven silks from the chest, admiring it's color and texture,

"Such a thing of beauty, an excellent reminder of where I came from. Stros M'kai has not left my heart."


Cyrus smiled under his mask, it had been quite a few weeks since the last time he and his friend had seen each other. As Ruhk approached he bowed before Haroun, even though they were family Ruhk carried much respect for the Elden Yokeda. The smile on Ruhk's face faded as he talked with the High King,

"War was anticipated. I've heard of the news. Sobotai prepares the soldiers in Stros as we speak. And this man..." Ruhk gestured 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. Tell me, did Amaru's service fair well?"

The high King returned to his throne as he spoke, "Yes, my arrival so soon was unexpected, the council with Rihad was nothing more than a courtesy for civility's sake...or an attempt at it. Our words fell on deaf ears. Nassir of the Falls, chosen representative for the confederation...no leader by any means. The man maintained his poise and composure for a very limited timeframe...one can say the scale was tipped once he offended Bomlikar's honor. Blades were drawn but blood was not shed. They understand war is on the horizon, I have yet to declare it."

The high King reached into a pouch and produced an Esplendido, which he then lit.


"Tonight, a War Council shall be held."

Cyrus spoke, "That is good, there are some things that your cousin and I had needed to discuss with you. However it is for our ears only, if other's were to hear it could cause problems down the road."

Rihad Temple
Lysandra and Crixus

Crixus smiled. "No, not entirely." Crixus gazed now up towards the ceiling, as if to stair through the stone overhead and into the high blue sky that overlooked the mortal world. "I would be lieing, of cource, if I said I didn't feel the mystic pull back to my homeland..or well, the homeland of my mother." he began again, the aged Ra'gada now looked towards Lysandra. To many it would be odd that he felt more in connection with the Nibenese battlemage than his own people in Hammerfell, something he would have to learn to change. "However, when I arrived with the Legion, I quickly learned that these were not my people, and that they wanted to kill me." his voice was now overcasted with a hearty laugh.

“I have to congratulate you on how well you seem to deal with this new position, mister Nakute.” Lysandra’spoke tracing her finger along the top rather the rim of her cup. “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.”

"That I we can defiantly agree on." Crixus replied. "I often find my self longing for Anvil and the Colovian highlands. However, you learn to live without the things you love, especially when you have a higher purpose, do you not agree?"

“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.” Lysandra however continued, understandably, he knew that this little conversation was little more than an act to keep up appearances. Lysandra was far to sly and devious to simply brush the old man off. Crixus shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Ahh, yes, business..." he said, rasing finally from the chair and pacing around the cramped room.

"The other reason I came to Hammerfell was because I was looking for someone...a man I believe you can help me find. I tracked him you see here to Rihad, and it turns out that he's a conscript in your army now...I would very much like to have him..if we understand each other." Crixus spoke and his heart raced, the man he had been after for quite some time was close within his reach, and Lysandra was the only one who could deliver him to Crixus's vengeful hands.

The Road to Sentinel

The day progressed as the winding caravan trudged down the winding road that connected the whole southern coast of Hammerfell. For years it had been a major caravan road, carrying the goods of the western coastal cities to the south eastern cities such as Rihad and Tanneth and was in all essence a super high way of trade that saw more wealth flow down its paved roads than most sea lanes; a road well known for being a lucrative raiding target, Bomilkar knew, he had partaken on many a raid on this road in his childhood. The Great Khan took the lead of the winding group of men, women, children and animals that made up the refugee caravan from Rihad. A hard pressed, they may just make it to Sentinel by dark...

Gilane
Marius Lepidus

The ex-centurion leaned on the wall of the city hall with his side, his arms crossed on his chest. The Colovian's face betrayed a mixture of interest and mistrust, just as his voice did (if less noticeably) when he responded to Kira's rather tempting offer.

"Kira, wasn't it?" That's what the knight-sherrif had called her, if Marius recalled correctly. "So what you're saying is, I take you along with all your... assets..." Tiber's ass did that sound suggestive. "And you're willing to just go, free of charge? You lend me your - half of them less than legal I'm sure, and so more effective - connections, and your sword for the purpose of stopping these... things, people, whatever's kidnapping you blokes. Stick your neck into the gallows, as it were, because for all that anyone knows, this might as well be Talos riding a flaming chariot pulled by dragons kidnapping people left and right, and even a divine would leave more evidence. And you're doing it voluntarily."

"Listen, even I'm not stupid enough to buy you're doing this out of the goodness of your heart, and this is from a man who was enough of an idiot to jump ship only after getting here where the Legion is about as welcome as the plague." He frowned. Whatever her angle is, it must offer a vista that's damn near divine. This nonsense might be concerning, but I wouldn't risk my ass without the promise of all those Septims. Nobles. Crowns? Whatever they call them. Notably, Marius always glossed over the detail he wouldn't see a single Septim if he wasn't the first to solve this mystery; he was quite certain that if anyone could solve this and live through it, it would be him, and not entirely without reason - the Colovian was good at what he did.

"So I don't suppose you'd be willing to divulge what's the catch here? Since you probably don't, feel free to just make up an exciting story instead and we can move on to the Meduza's Gaze, where I can begin contemplating when exactly I'll regret this decision to take you along."


Rihad Temple
Lysandra

Surprises didn't seem to cease in this conversation, although Crixus' reason for being here interested her far more than the reason why he became an advisor to the High King. The old quill-wielder has someone he wants gone, it seems. I wonder if the reason is revenge, shutting a mouth that is too open, or something else..? But what else could it be? People rarely hunt someone down like that for a reason other than those two. The battlemage fancied herself as able to predict peoples' motivations for doing something like this quite well, and that's all she could come up with. Crixus didn't seem like the sort to want someone gone, but, after all, underneath the exterior of an aged author was a man who had, in his own time, navigated the dangerous waters of Cyrodiilic politics. A venture no one emerged from unchanged.

"Yes, I believe I understand you perfectly, mister Nakute. And I must remark you are quite lucky, for any other Paralictor and even many Lictors in Rihad likely wouldn't be able to deal with your request." Lysandra was actually quite curious why he chose to come to her. Obviously, Stanet wasn't much of a choice, but certainly Crixus could've tried to go through some or other Lictor, more of a chance they'd be able to handle removing a man from the army with no clear reason than her. Or are the Yokudans better informed than I thought..? They couldn't possibly know why the order sent me here, they have no reason to care about the transfer of some or other Paralictor.

But now wasn't the time to indulge her curiosity; perhaps as the war progressed she'd have a chance to get her hands on this man, if events unfolded so, and find out then, after all while this might've meant a leak somewhere in the order, the information was hardly important - Lysandra's assignment wasn't a secret, even if she didn't like to advertise it too much, and it might've as well been gleaned from rumours and talks. Now, as the battlemage realized full well, was the time to act on this new information. Her eyes flashed briefly as she leaned forward in her chair, observing as Crixus paced around her small quarters. Quite clearly he was excited and perhaps a bit uncomfortable, understandable given that he was asking his soon-to-be enemy a favour.

"I believe it wouldn't be difficult to arrange this... transaction. If you can specify the man you need, of course, but I very much doubt that's a problem at this point." After a bit of a pause the Nibenese continued. "In fact I'm fairly certain that unless this person you seek is stationed beyond the walls of Rihad, I can have him sought out and delivered here quickly, if you are willing to wait." Crixus would likely notice that she made no mention of what she was willing to do this favour for; truth be told, Lysandra herself wasn't certain, but the lives of individual soldiers in the army mattered little to her, particularly those of the Rihadese conscripts. Obviously her conscience wouldn't trouble her about it at all, especially due to what was involved - one way or another, the High King's advisor owing her a favour would surely prove useful.

Gilane

Kira flashed a smile at Marius' wit and humor, refreshing amongst the more serious and duty bound men of the city. She shrugged at his response, "The Nerevarine went missing in a Caravan! Been hired by the ash skins get his ass out of all the trouble." she said waving her arms about in an exaggerated manner as well as tone to match. She let out a childish laugh before stepping to Marius and patting him on the back, "Mateas, this is going to be the beginning of an excellent friendship. Now, lets get to that tavern." As unesteemed as its reputation was for lousy service and worse food, Kira needed a drink in her. It was but noon and she'd yet to down a glass of Raga Rum.

Within the Medusa's Gaze

Raspert was a large Ra Gada law man, wielding his prized steel axe and tower shield, while donned in chainmail, he had a way of intimidating most of the trouble makers of the city into submission. But this...this was something bigger, something he was tasked to investigate...and now he had to spend his time in this hellish hole of a tavern waiting for a group of adventurers and sell swords to appear. An Imperial equipped in Legion armor, the Khajiit and the fair skin who accompanied him. Whatever the case, he would make sure this group got to the bottom of these disappearances, his axe and shield had never failed him before and he would not let it now.

He stroked his massive black beard for but a moment when the two above mentioned adventurers had arrived.

"Armand I suppose? This your Khajiit friend then..." he looked the adventurer over, he had not seen that breed since he was a boy but did not want to seem rude at the shock. Much like seeing a midget.

"Can he communicate in our tongue? We'd need only wait until the last adventurer gets here before business can be discussed."

Raspert elevated his massive flagon of amber ale to his lips before taking a hearty gulp. He winked to the Dagi, "Well it looks like you won't be eating much on our travels friend...more for me."

Rihad Docks
First Mate Jacob

Shavaash got up and looked of into the sunrise after Jacob asked his question. He sighed to Kraven, who then asked 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?"

Jacob chuckled. "Yeah, Camille'll probably allow you guys to hitch a ride on The Lady. Especially if I put in a good word for you." Jacob sighed and also looked off into the sunrise, though he stayed seated. "As far as when we leave," Jacob continued, rubbing the back of his neck, "that's hard to say. The Cap'n's got a meeting tonight, I know that. But I don't know when she'll be finished, or whether or not tonight's meeting will even be the last. But we can go to the bar where I left the rest of the crew, hang out there until Camille's done. She'll probably head to the bar after she's finished to get a drink, so it's safe to just wait there and see if she shows up."

Jacob stood up and dusted off his pants. "So what do you guys say?"

Stanet Terentius, Rihad Keep

The Knight Commander was pleasantly surprised by the mildness of Vorandaril's requests. He doesn't want some ridiculously rare text from the First Era or something? No ash from Red Mountain or branches from the highest trees of Valenwood or Hist sap? Really? Just some stuff from the Mages' Guild? What a deal! He almost grinned, but stopped himself quickly, knowing he should never reveal his emotions during a negotiation.

"I'll have some books and soul gems from the Mages' Guild sent for, then. Let me know if your research requires anything specific later, and I'll do my best to acquire it for you. Unfortunately, it may take a few days for your resources to arrive; the Guild's branch in Rihad is miserably small. Although that's not terribly surprising, given the heathens' attitude towards magic." he said with a chuckle. "I would recommend you find a room at an inn around here and wait for the materials to arrive. When war is formally declared, I'll have tasks for you."
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Quintus Aventurnus, Shore north of Rihad

The line of well-equipped mercenaries parted in front of the three knights and two extremely well-equipped Dunmer rode forth. Fancy. thought Quintus.

"I am the one who leads this corps." said one of the two Dark Elves.

"Ah, so you lead this fine band? I'd like to congratulate you on the excellent landing, sir. I am Quintus Aventurnus, Lictor of the Nine, and these are my two companions, Sir Honmund and Sir Latham." Quintus gestured back at the two knights mounted a few paces behind him on either side. The young Breton, Sir Latham, blushed at the attention, looking down to avoid eye contact. The older, more grizzled Nord, Honmund, ignored his young companion and looked straight ahead, not intimidated by the Dunmer mercenaries.

"Anyway, you and your mer displayed a clear mastery of amphibious assaults. I'll be sure to recommend you to Knight Commander Terentius tomorrow morning. How much would you like to be paid for your services, by the way? Sir Terentius will want a firm number to negotiate off of."
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Swims-in-Shadows, Rihad Safehouse

With every word from Rithe's mouth, Swims-in-Shadows liked him even less. He sounds like a pompous, over-educated ass. And he presumes to know much more than he does. If Swims had been a man or a mer, he would be scowling at the assassin, but facial expressions were foreign to Argonians.

"I never said I was better than him, more like on par. You underestimate my abilities, and forget that while painful and horrid being a servant of Mephala is, it still has it's benefits. I do not underestimate Serosi, however I do not fear his power." said Rithe with a laugh. He proceeded to lean back in his chair.

"I know you do not trust me and see me as a foul creature to be disposed off, however our task requires us to work together and your hostility towards me is making it quite hard. If you do not wish to hear what we have to discuss then why accompany us to this room knowing that a long and in depth conversation awaited on the other side?" finished Rithe.

Swims-in-Shadows would have scowled if Argonians used facial expressions for anything more than the most extreme emotional responses. His face remained completely calm, although his raspy reptilian voice betrayed a great bitterness and a scathing sarcasm as he replied to Rithe.

"Ah, yes, you would be the ultimate authority on Serosi's capabilities, wouldn't you? After all, you two were in the same assassin's guild! Never mind that you never actually saw him in action! Who needs visual demonstrations anyway?"

"Look, I'm sure you're quite impressive in your own right, but the only thing you beat Serosi at is making crappy deals with Daedric Princes. And stop taking everything I say so personally. I don't like any of you." he briefly glanced over at Arethan and Servyn before turning back to Rithe. "I'm in this for the money. We're going to make Serosi's life a nightmare, I'm going to get paid, and I don't care who has to die for that to happen. If that's you, great. If it's either of you," he gestured at his other two Dunmer companions "just as well. As long as I come out of this whole thing better off than I started. Are we clear?"

Arnand and Jo'Khart, Medusa's Gaze

The tavern wasn't too busy as the pair walked in, and it was quite obvious who they were supposed to find before the man ever spoke. Dressed in armor and with a great black beard, they couldn't have been looking for anybody else. The man noticed them right away, and when Arnand noticed the man was looking at them, he walked over as the man addressed them.

Dagi jumped easily off his friends shoulder and onto the table, walking a few feet from the intimidating man with his cat-like arms crossed.

"You should hope I can speak your tongue or we would be forced to speak in a highly confusing system of grunts and hand motions." he said in his highly sophisticated voice, pacing back and forth.

Arnand smiled, as he could only speak the local tongue in very simple sentences and phrases, though he was a little more adept at understanding it when spoken to.

"Arnand." the Breton corrected simply as he sat down, listening intently but letting his small friend handle the communication lest he tell the large man to do something rude by mistake.

"More for you, which means you can take your turn helping me about on your shoulders." replied the Dagi, in a rare moment of humor for him though his voice was still as plain and well-spoken as ever, concealing the humor.

Rihad Temple
Lysandra and Crixus

"I believe it wouldn't be difficult to arrange this... transaction. If you can specify the man you need, of course, but I very much doubt that's a problem at this point." After a bit of a pause the Nibenese continued. "In fact I'm fairly certain that unless this person you seek is stationed beyond the walls of Rihad, I can have him sought out and delivered here quickly, if you are willing to wait."

"I will need his wife, and two daughters as well.." Crixus did not miss a beat as he continued pacing, not letting the surprise of Lysandra's willingness to help him surface to his face. Turning Crixus made his way back to the table and took a seat, forcing his eyes to connect with the Cyrodilic witch. Within her eyes he could see the wheels turning, like a mirror image of the Clock-Work city of Sotha Sil hidden deep within her mind he could not fathom what twisted and cunning things were formulating in her brain. The Battlemage Lysandra was obvious not just a Lictor, he could feel a strange aura around her, like a swirl or surge of power in a constant vacuum that followed in her wake and lingered in her presence, something he knew her superiors had to feel as well. Another wave of discomfort began to wash over him as he now sat silently awaiting Lysandra's reply, enough to make him almost reconsider his dastardly plot but he quickly forced his posture into a neutral stance and convinced himself there was no turning back, not now, not after all these years.

"I of cource don't expect you to do this for free. I can offer substantial monetary compensation, but perhaps I could also offer something a bit more useful than money....information."



[font="Trebuchet MS"]Sentinel Palace, Throne Room

"Keeping secrets are we?" Roxanna's voice echoed throughout the vast throne room in a playful tone. From the shadows of the colomuns that lined each side of the room emerged the Ra'gada queen and loving wife, wearing a long flowing court gown in the lavish style of Crown royalty, a style that asserted not only her own strong will but the will of her station as well. Making her way across the room she locked eyes with the young Ruhk, giving a soft nodd in acknowledging her husbands cousin before planting a kiss upon her husbands cheek and taking a seat next her liege and lover. The long gown seemed to swallow the chair, which was equally immaculate yet seemed to almost merge with the dress as if they were one in the same. The gown was white and gold, with the ends of the dress dipped in a burgundy red and the seams of the dress lined in gold to goad any onlooker into complete awe.

"And where is my gift, cousin Ruhk?" Roxanna spoke in a jest, noticing the fine silk that had been presented to her husband. "Surely you did not forget me?" she continued with a smile before subtlety placing her hand upon her husbands. Almost instantly she spoke again in a moment of forgetfulness, her mind swirling with a hundred thoughts at once. "You missed an excellent play last night, I wish you could have been here to see it, truly a masterpiece."

Athanden, Coast North of Rihad

The leader of the group of Knights spoke once again after Athanden and Aryn had stopped in front of them,

"Ah, so you lead this fine band? I'd like to congratulate you on the excellent landing, sir. I am Quintus Aventurnus, Lictor of the Nine, and these are my two companions, Sir Honmund and Sir Latham." Said the knight as he gestured towards his two companions. That one looks quite green. Thought Athanden as he watched the younger Knight blush at the attention. However his counterpart, a rather large and rough looking nord, looked as tough as a Daedroth, never breaking his concentration on Athanden and Aryn.

Athanden smiled, once again putting on his business facade. "It is a pleasure muthsera."

"Anyway, you and your mer displayed a clear mastery of amphibious assaults. I'll be sure to recommend you to Knight Commander Terentius tomorrow morning. How much would you like to be paid for your services, by the way? Sir Terentius will want a firm number to negotiate off of."

Athanden looked over at Aryn for a moment who shrugged slightly, his steel plate armor clinking together. Hmm, well lets start out high and see if they bite. These Knights have some pretty deep pockets.

"I do not know the exact costs of keeping my forces supplied and able, however as payment for each man I suppose that 150 silver per soldier for every 4 months would be sufficient. With a bonus of 50 silver upon completion of our services."

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Rithe, Rihad

Rithe could tell that the Argonian had become agitated by the tone of his voice as he replied.

"Ah, yes, you would be the ultimate authority on Serosi's capabilities, wouldn't you? After all, you two were in the same assassin's guild! Never mind that you never actually saw him in action! Who needs visual demonstrations anyway?"

Rithe was beginning to get a little worked up, however he kept his emotions in check as to not allow this conversation to become violent in any manner.

"I should as you the same question as it seems you doubt my abilities. It is not a matter of whether or not I have seen him fight. In the tong you advance only by the level of your skill, would he have been any more skilled than I he would have become the grandmaster of the tong."

Rithe was beginning to get worried, if this Argonian carried this kind of hate for him throughout this quest then it could complicate things very very badly.

"Look, I'm sure you're quite impressive in your own right, but the only thing you beat Serosi at is making crappy deals with Daedric Princes. And stop taking everything I say so personally. I don't like any of you." The Argonian then gestured towards the other two Dunmer in the room, which surprised Rithe since he had obviously been travelling with them for quite some time. "I'm in this for the money. We're going to make Serosi's life a nightmare, I'm going to get paid, and I don't care who has to die for that to happen. If that's you, great. If it's either of you," Swims one again motioned towards Arethan and Servyn, "just as well. As long as I come out of this whole thing better off than I started. Are we clear?"

If all of us are expendable then who is paying him? Thought Rithe as he anolyzed the possible outcomes of a conflict later down the road, disposing of the Argonian now crossed his mind many times. However it was dismissed due to the fact that it would make it much harder to get Arethan to trust him.

"Yes, now if you don't mind we have things to discuss and I would very much like to discuss them without your complaining." Rithe gazed at the Argonian, his crimson eyes as hard as the stone of Red Mountain.

OOC: Crap post. Just a general move-along for everything. Asapp, don't worry about posting for Cyrus. Story is going to fast forward to the war council after this.

Kurush, Road north of Taneth

The horseman rode off into the night, taking themselves into the shadows before them. The young nomad continued to dash among the sands, heading towards the place where his father was. The skirmish was finally over. The beaten and battered knights would now be able to return to the safeness of their city. It would not be long until they set back onto the field of battle.

Kurush's head turned for a moment, staring back towards the caravan, a glare in his eye directing itself toward the enemy's leader.

We shall meet again, foreigner. I will drive you from my father's lands.

Ruhk, Sentinel Throne Room

"So I have heard, Empress, so I have heard."

Ruhk let out another bow, directed towards the empress.

"It is indeed a good sight to see my cousin with his wife once more, Roxanna. I hope to model myself after a man such as him-"

Another figure made his way into the room, colorful robes about his body. The man made his way towards the young Raga, as Ruhk let out a grin. He had not seen the man in some time, who was every bit of a friend as he was a mentor, much like his own father in a sense.

"Amaru-"

A grave expression still left its mark, paved through the Ansei's dark eyes. A hand reached out, gripping Ruhk's shoulder with a stern firmness.

"Yes. Ruhk. It has been some time."

He shot a focused look towards Haroun from the corner of his eye, giving him a slight nod.

"But in little time, many things may be done. We've much to discuss."

Ruhk nodded at the one he trusted more than any other, walking towards the hall that led into their quarters. Amaru motioned back, pointing his hand towards Ruhk's own general.

"Cyrus, come."

Arethan Andas, Servyn Velothi, Rihad

"Enough of this [censored]."

Servyn shot a cold glare at Rithe, followed by the same expression towards Swims. He could not hold the words in any longer.

"Would you both just shut the hell up already?"

The stone appeared in the Dunmer's pocket again, as it began to etch words into his very mind. Taneth...Taneth... Arethan sat up from his chair, beginning to walk towards the door which led out of the room. He turned to the assassin and the Argonian.

"Both of you, get up, we're getting the hell out of here. To the port."

Swims-in-Shadows, Rihad

Swims-in-Shadows was becoming amused by the anger of his Dunmer companions. It was amazing that beings as old as they were could fall to emotion so easily; a century or more on Nirn seemed capable of instilling wisdom in all beings but the Dunmer, who remained headstrong and proud until the end. The assassin Rithe was giving Swims an extremely hard glare, and Arethan and Servyn also seemed rather annoyed at his argument with Rithe.

"Yes, now if you don't mind we have things to discuss and I would very much like to discuss them without your complaining." said Rithe.

Before Swims could respond, Servyn interrupted the exchange.

"Enough of this [censored]. Would you both just shut the hell up already?" interjected Servyn. He really thinks he can speak to me that way? At least I'm not a hundred-year-old manchild who blindly follows some washed-up battlemage! I'll smash every bone in his pathetic ashborn body when this is all over!

Suddenly, Arethan sat bolt upright in his chair. The Argonian looked at him curiously. The Dark Elf battlemage seemed to have spontaneous epiphanies at the weirdest moments, always leading to sudden commands and orders. Swims still couldn't figure out why, though; did Arethan just have an odd thought process leading to frequent revelations, or was something else going on?

"Both of you, get up, we're getting the hell out of here. To the port." A mild one this time.

Swims-in-Shadows calmly stood up from his chair and began following Arethan towards the door. Asking questions was pointless; the steel-armored mage usually didn't deign to give real answers anyway, especially when he was angry. Swims paused for a moment and shot a glance back at Rithe, who was wearing some sort of ominous black leather armor covered in sanguine Daedric letters.

"Shouldn't you get another outfit before we set out? You look like a Dark Brotherhood agent right now, and civilized places like this don't have legalized assassination. We're going to get stopped by every single guard from here to the port with you dressed like that."

Road north of Taneth

As the dust cleared, Tarsius watched as the nomads rode off. Hopefully they won't return. We don't have the means to effectively fight their light cavalry right now. And I need to get the glass out of my body. Tarsius removed his helm and turned back to the soldiers under his command.

"What's the status? What damage did they do?"

"Eight of our wounded were killed when they attacked the wagons, and now we have even more wounded. We also lost ten of the wagons. We've managed to free the horses, but a few of them were burned."

The Knight Commander paused for a moment.

"Load the wounded into the remaining wagons and inform the healers to stabilize them." Tarsius winced in pain "And I am afraid I must join them, one of them threw an orb of some sort at me and now I think I have bits of glass underneath my armor. Nothing too serious but I don't think I can be properly healed without removing the shards. And I need to get my armor off before it worsens."

"Should I get a healer on it?"

"No, not until the others are stabilized. I don't to lose any more knights. I'll be fine for now. And don't forget our dead, we can't leave them behind."

Tarsius watched as the wounded were loaded into the wagons. This expedition had mixed results; they drove off the raiders but suffered heavy losses. But now he had learned several things that could help the Knights' cause. Knowing the nomads' weaponry and tactics would help in the coming days. But for all the nomads they slew, he couldn't help but wonder if they succeeded in stopping the caravan raids. Perhaps with a decent escort they could resume. Whatever the case, it was important that trade with the neutral cities be maintained. Tarsius then climbed aboard one of the wagons and began removing his armor piece by piece and strap by strap.

The sooner we get back to Taneth, the sooner I can meet with the nearby mercenary groups. Even if peace talks went well, I need to put an end to these murderous attacks once and for all, and mercenary groups may be able to handle it better than we can.

---

It was over. It had happened so fast, they couldn't do anything. Kalasan took a breath of relief when he saw the nomad riders heading off into the distance. The knights had survived, although most of the wagons were damaged beyond repair. I suppose they wanted to ensure we were left as reeling as we left them.

The errant approached the Knight Commander and overheard their orders. Kalasan was wounded, but his wound was stabilized and he could walk. He felt a bit guilty that he was still too injured to help load the others into the remaining wagons, but at least he wouldn't be taking any space on what few wagons they had left. And in hindsight, it was a good thing they had brought so many wagons; even with ten destroyed, they still had enough to transport all of their wounded, dead, and even a few of the enemy dead.

As the wagon began to move, now with most of the horses being led by knights instead of pulling wagons, Kalasan strode along, grateful for having survived.

---

Rihad, Keep


"I'll have some books and soul gems from the Mages' Guild sent for, then. Let me know if your research requires anything specific later, and I'll do my best to acquire it for you. Unfortunately, it may take a few days for your resources to arrive; the Guild's branch in Rihad is miserably small. Although that's not terribly surprising, given the heathens' attitude towards magic. I would recommend you find a room at an inn around here and wait for the materials to arrive. When war is formally declared, I'll have tasks for you."

Vorandaril smiled slightly underneath all that covered his face. He would finally have what he needed. Amazing that such simple resources would be all that stood between him and a Yokudan-proof home.

"I thank you Knight Commander for this. And I bid you farewell. I look forward for the opportunity to utilize my powers." Vorandaril cast a recall spell and disappeared.

Back at his inner sanctum at Nayamdar, Vorandaril removed his helmet and facemask. Most of his face was still covered in linen but one only need look at his eyes and the skin around them to know he was a lich. Perhaps I should replace my wrappings and fluids the next time I am in Rihad. Vorandaril floated over to a small Ayleid chest and effortlessly disengaged the ancient lock. Taking a few golden Ayleid coins, he stared at them. Once mere currency, they were now quite rare and quite valuable. These would be sufficient for a new set of wrappings and embalming fluids, although it was a shame to have to let go of even a few of these beautiful, tiny relics.

Vorandaril's contemplation was cut short by a terrible sound; the sound of one of the ruin's ancient traps activating. Specifically, the pressure-activated floor that moved upward towards ceiling mounted spikes. He had locked the entrance before he left, so it couldn't have been rats again. But even the most skilled mage could not improve the deteriorated remains of a lock that lay within the doors leading into the ruin. Accursed looters. They'll never learn. Placing his helmet back onto his head, minus the facemask, the lich used his telekinesis to push a large stone button sitting across the room, lowering the gate that kept the innermost part of Nayamdar safe from all but the most skilled thieves. If he was lucky, it was only one looter, now hopefully reduced to a horrifically perforated corpse. And if there were more, they would soon wish that they had been killed by the the traps.

Cyric and Morgana - Rihad

The muffled conversation of the group of assassins could be heard from the lounge where Cyric and his sister Morgana waited. While Cyric could not make any real detail out of the vaguely conversational noise, he could feel the tone of the conversation. Apparently, it seemed, that the assassins did not get along very well. Well, that could be a useful tibit to remember, if this lot aren't getting along with each other now, well I wouldn't want to see what would happen eventually. Cyric thought to himself, smirking slightly, He had expected that such a group would at least be amiable with each other. Obviously, he thought wrong.

Morgana's beryl eyes followed Cyric as he paced the room, her expression dancing between an amused smile and a worried frown. Morgana didn't understand what drove her brother to suggest taking them to this home, at least, she didn't see why he would bring Them, along with him. The band led by the Dunmer seemed a thoroughly dangerous sort, a glance at their eyes would be enough to send a shiver down anyone's spine. Not Morgana though. She had been through worse than a chance encounter with a band of cut-throats in her short, albeit exciting life.

Still, despite her annoyance, something nagged at the edge of her mind. Something about the band seemed to be tugging at her, a strange sensation, she felt like she wanted to follow them, and see what they were going to do. This is silly, going along with these people could only lead to trouble. 'Gods, why couldn't Cyric just keep his mouth shut. Oh no, instead he decides to bring them all along...' Morgana let out a exasperated sigh and muttered

The relative quiet of the lounge was intruded upon as Arethan appeared by the door, followed by Swims-In-Shadows. Morgana guessed that by the way they were carrying themselves at the moment, they were planning to go. Somewhere. Folding her arms, she looked at the men and said in a carefully conversational tone,

"So you're leaving now, are you?" 'Idiot! What kind question is that?', But Morgana did not wait for a reply, she could feel the bewildered stare of her brother and hurried on, "Well if you are, you're going to have another pair of hands with you. I'm coming."

'What's gotten into you woman! That must have been the most mule-brained thing you could have done. There's no chance in Oblivion that they'd bring you along, more likely they'd slit your throat and throw you in a ditch!'

Cyric was not to be left out though, he quickly spoke up, "If you take her with you, then you should make that two pairs of hands. She won't be going alone, not if I can help it.". Folding his arms in a defiant gesture, he assumed an air of confidence. What would happen next, was up to the assassin.

OOC: I'm going to control Alaudis, at least his expressions, and move him along with us. Tanvar has been busy, but I have spoken to him.



Arethan, Rihad

Arethan's face lit up in confusion, puzzled as to why these two individuals, whom they had known for a mere half an hour, made haste to follow them on a journey they did not know of, to a path that would likely lead on to nothing more than a desolate wake of destruction.

The [censored] Bretons want to come with us now. They've already led me to this blasted house. As much of a [censored] as the lizard is, at least he stays out of my [censored], whatever the hell is into him be damned.

Servyn looked towards Arethan, beginning to speak in a native Dunmeri tongue- something only Alaudis, Rithe, himself, Arethan, and Swims would understand. He was quite sure the Bretons did not know the dialect and language which came from his native land, and though it was possible he could be terribly wrong, the possibility was highly unlikely.

"If we don't bring them along, they'll report us to the city guard. As much as I'd hate to deal with them now, perhaps we can bring them along..."

A smirk made its way onto the younger Dunmeri's face, who's speech took a short pause. He continued.

"...At least until we can dispose of them later. Get rid of them now and there may be problems. If we take them along, we can get rid of them when they least expect it, or at least get away."

Arethan nodded in response, pleased with the idea. Though he did not enjoy bringing the Bretons along, it was a better path to take, as any other would lay a road of trouble for the band. Servyn quickly looked over to Alaudis, who held a disgusted look on his face. Servyn was never much of a villain, not being too evil in his own right. However, he had his devious moments, as was this one. Alaudis, in all of his goodness, was disgusted by the talk of 'disposing' of the beings that stood before them, people who they hardly knew.

"Don't worry Alaudis. We shouldn't have to kill them unless it's absolutely necessary." Servyn said, as he took a curious glance over at the Argonian.

Though, I'm sure he'd thoroughly enjoy it...

Rithe, Rihad

Before Swims could reply Arethan's friend, Servyn, interrupted,

"Enough of this [censored]. Would you both just shut the hell up already?"

Rithe calmly nodded his head, unlike his fellow Dunmer Rithe could control his emotions, it was a part of training that all Morag Tong assassins went through to ensure that their feelings didn't get in the way of a writ. Then Arethan suddenly stood with a peculiar look on his face,

"Both of you, get up, we're getting the hell out of here. To the port."

Hmm, I wonder what could have spurred that? Thought Rithe as he rose from his chair, then Swims gave him a rather nasty look while saying,

"Shouldn't you get another outfit before we set out? You look like a Dark Brotherhood agent right now, and civilized places like this don't have legalized assassination. We're going to get stopped by every single guard from here to the port with you dressed like that."

Rithe replied with a calm tone as he walked past Swims,

"I have other ways to make sure we don't attract attention from the guards."

The group came into the room they had first seen upon arrival. The others still stood around looking at the strange decor of the house. One of the troublesome Bretons that had came along approached the group.

"So you're leaving now, are you? Well if you are, you're going to have another pair of hands with you. I'm coming."

Oh wonderful, lets just bring a complete stranger along to help us track down a dangerous assassin. Thought Rithe as he listened to the young girl speak, who was soon joined by her friend, the other young Breton.

"If you take her with you, then you should make that two pairs of hands. She won't be going alone, not if I can help it." Rithe sighed and rubbed his forehead with his hand. This is going to be a fun trip. Then Servyn turned to Rithe and the other who had just come from the room and began to speak in a dialect native to Morrowind.

"If we don't bring them along, they'll report us to the city guard. As much as I'd hate to deal with them now, perhaps we can bring them along..." Servyn paused for a moment as a smirk came across his face.

"...At least until we can dispose of them later. Get rid of them now and there may be problems. If we take them along, we can get rid of them when they least expect it, or at least get away."

Bring them along and if the cause any trouble then we kill them, I guess that would be ok. And he's right about killing them here, it would make to much of a mess. Rithe looked over towards one of Arethan's companions that had been quite hostile to him earlier. What's his problem? Thought Rithe as Arethan spoke to him,

"Don't worry Alaudis. We shouldn't have to kill them unless it's absolutely necessary."

Rithe interjected, "Yes, he's right. However I suggest we keep a close eye on them, for all we know they could have been hired by Serosi..." Rithe looked over at the two Bretons, they didn't look dangerous to him, however looks can be deceiving.

"Anyways before we set out, where exactly is it we are going and how do we plan on getting there?"

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OOC: Realllllyyy crappy post, sorry guys kinda tired right now.

Cyrus, Sentinel

Cyrus bowed as the queen entered. She continued on to speak to Ruhk for a moment before another figure entered the room, it was Amaru, one of Ruhk's closest friends and an old acquaintance of Cyrus. He and Ruhk spoke briefly before they started to head off to have council, Amaru motioned back for Cyrus to follow,

"Cyrus, come."

Cyrus walked over to the group and followed them to the hall that led to their quarters.

OOC: I'll move things forward a bit in Taneth. I hope Darkom is still available.

Nayamdar Loria

Vorandaril activated a life-detection spell. Scanning the area, he saw two life signatures, one on the upper floor and one in a hall around the corner, near the trap that had recently activated. Even with my powers a bit drained, this should not be difficult. Silently floating through a crystal-lit hallway and around the corner, he came upon the first of the surviving intruders. He looked Imperial or perhaps Breton, and wore leather armor with a black travel cloak with a shortsword hanging from his belt, and was wholly focused on picking the lock on a small Ayleid chest. Without saying a word, Vorandaril telekinetically lifted the man off his feet and turned him around, pinning him on the wall. The man's face showed pure horror as he looked upon his attacker. He attempted to scream, but it was quickly replaced by choking noises as his windpipe was crushed under the lich's telekinetic attack.

So many ways to kill this man. But I don't want to leave scorch marks or blood stains, and I don't want to expend too much magicka. Lowering the man to eye level, he floated up to the man, still struggling to breathe. Vorandaril placed his hand on the man's face and spoke an incantation. After a few seconds, the man went limp, drained of life and magicka. Vorandaril felt quite restored, although his magicka stores had barely increased. The spell was rather inefficient at replenishing his magical energies, and it required him to touch his victims, but that it drew slightly more magicka in than took to cast it meant he could keep himself healed and sufficiently empowered when fighting individual foes.

Throwing the corpse aside, he floated up to the trap and took a look. There was a corpse on it, a Redguard in fur armor, with a large hole just beneath the back of his neck. Apparently he was able to maintain his balance when the floor rose up, but that was all he was able to do before getting impaled. The wretch probably didn't even get the chance to see the spikes. Telekinetically lifting the corpse off the trap and flinging him to where the other corpse was, Vorandaril floated over the trap towards the stairs leading to the upper level. Hopefully nobody consumed any of the Welkynd Stones, those things are irreplaceable.

---

Taneth, Knight Commander's quarters

I hate this part of the job.

Tarsius sat at his desk, writing a letter to one of the families of one of the knights that had died in the recent skirmishes. He had written several already and his hand was aching, his inkwell was nearly run out, and there were still a number of letters to write. He would not be able to do this after the war began, as such would probably become the duty of the Paralictors. But for now, it was his job. He could only hope their deaths did not prove to be in vain.

A knight entered his office. "Knight Commander, there is something you should know. Or perhaps, something you should see for yourself."

"Very well, give me a moment." Tarsius placed the pen into the inkwell and rose to his feet. It felt good to have all the glass shards removed, although until the armorer had thoroughly scoured his armor of any remaining pieces of glass, he would have to make due with a standard chainmail tunic. The Knight Commander followed the man to a corpse on a crude stretcher. The man looked Imperial but his garb was not.

"What is this? This is one of the nomads that attacked us. What is going on?"

The Knight looked grim. "Knight Commander, this was not a nomad. He was an Imperial, looks like a recent settler. He was covered in ash and mud. What happened out there?"

Tarsius was shocked. "The nomads sent this manand and many others like him in an initial attack. We slaughtered them, it seemed too easy. By Talos...they forced their own prisoners to attack us. And we cut them down..."

"Do not blame yourself too much, the other Knights I spoke to insisted that these...false nomads...attacked them. You had no choice and no way of knowing. However, you may want to keep witnesses of the battle close by, because while we will keep this terrible event from the citizens, this will become known in the Order."

"Thank you, I can assure you that if I had known, I would have acted differently." He turned to the Knight that had brought him here. "As for you, I need the mercenary companies in Taneth to know that I am taking audiences with them now. See to it that it is done."

Tarsius walked slowly and sullenly to his quarters, thinking of the recent development. This meant that the Nomads took far fewer casualties than he had thought. And if someone else in the Order wanted to replace or otherwise invalidate him, this would be that opportunity. And finally, it showed the depravity that these nomads were capable of. Sitting back in his chair, he reached into his desk and pulled out a fresh inkwell.

Rihad Temple
Lysandra

“Hm. His family as well?” Lysandra traced the dragon tattoo with her thumb, a habit of hers when she was quickly mulling something over. Apparently whatever past this person had with Crixus, it was very unpleasant; she had seen over the years many people seeking the same thing as the author was – no matter what their reasons - leave the victim’s family alive so they feel better about themselves. Some even took up supporting said family. “That might prove slightly more problematic than getting the man himself, but still far from impossible.”

The Nibenese maintained eye contact when he gazed into hers for whatever reason. One thing she was never any good at was reading intentions from people’s eyes; she rather hated eyes, actually, because what people saw when they looked into hers was outside her control. An annoying inconvenience to say the least, but she’d learned to work around it in most situations.

Before beginning to talk again, Lysandra started shuffling through the papers on her table, clearly looking for something. “What you probably remember not so fondly from your life in Cyrodiil, mister Nakute, is the red tape synonymous with anything vaguely administrative. I’m sad to say the order draws inspiration strongly from that and even people can’t be dealt with without the proper forms.” As she spoke, the battlemage produced a form, a quill and some ink. “What I require of you is simply your signature here,” She placed the document in front of her guest of sorts and pointed towards an empty space above the words ‘informant’. “And then the names of the people concerned.”

The form that Lysandra presented to Crixus was indeed the heritage of the Knights’ mostly Cyrodiilic origins; not even arranged disappearances could happen without the necessary paperwork. Of course, it was just a piece of paper until signed by the order, when it became worth a man’s life in the Forebear Confederation. Usually such a paper had to be signed by a Chaptermaster or at least a Knight Commander, but for the purpose of her task in Hammerfell Lysandra was allowed to act on her own, so long as everything else was in order.

“And as we deal with the paperwork and afterwards wait for acts on paper become real, we can discuss your end of this transaction and the information that you mentioned.”


Gilane
Marius Lepidus

“Yeah, that’s what they all say. Until I get drunk.” The ex-centurion yawned, a satisfied glint evident in his eyes. Perhaps Kira would be of more use than she was trouble, and even if not, it was a welcome change of pace to meet a Redguard who wasn’t hissing either at his magick or his armour. Well, she’s only seen one of those, so don’t be too satisfied yet. And I’m sure this Raspert will fill in where others fail, that is if he’s going along with us. And I presume he is.

***

Reaching the Medusa’s Gaze wasn’t too much trouble, especially as Magnus climbed further up the sky and the heat of the day approached its climix, becoming hardly bearable even for the natives. Around midday, many Raga cities in the south seemed to slow down a bit before coming back to life after several hours. The cool wind from the sea didn’t outweigh the scorching sun or the heat from the desert next-door.

The tavern itself seemed relatively quiet, or at least Marius had seen places far worse than it. Still, he wasn’t going to risk ordering anything that they might’ve served here, not least because it was wholly unlikely they served Colovian firewater here, and he could barely stand the taste of anything else. Well, to be honest the taste of that wasn’t that great too, but it did the job of getting you drunk admirably.

A rather unusual sight quickly distracted the ex-centurion from his thoughts of alcohol, however, namely a small group that had assembled in the inn before their arrival. The massive bearded Redguard was noticeable enough and seeing a Breton was quite unusual this far south, but the tiny Khajiit? Alright, definitely the people we’re looking for. That, or the start of a very [censored] joke.

Without wasting much time, the ex-centurion walked up to the odd bunch. “I presume you’re Raspert?” His accent always made his Colovian heritage uncomfortably apparent, but Marius didn’t mind it much, it was already apparent he wasn’t a Hammerfell Imperial from his armour. “I was told to find you.”

The Lady? Shavaash thought. He continued listening to the redguard pirate until he mentioned his captain's name. A woman leads the pirates? That's a first. He nodded in agreement, he was eager to treat himself to a reward for all the hard work he had done. Shavaash looked at Kraven to see if he would agree to go. The expression on his face was certain, he smiled faintly to Shavaash and nodded in agreement with the redguard. The heat of Hammerfell was already starting to set upon their skin. The Imperial would drink this once, to cool himself down.

"Cannot place foot on street in Rihad without hearing foreigners pleading to the heavens for a sprinkle." He spoke gruffly.

Shavaash prepared his scimitar and his gear and finally had a smirk etched across his face. He agreed. Perhaps there was more work to be done in Hammefell than sit around and free slaves. He was eager to relive his old life of gladiatorial fights and perhaps a battle in the field. He was certain Kraven felt the same way.

"Let us depart from the docks then." Kraven spoke "Lead us to the bar."

As he prepared to leave, Kraven looked at Jacob and inquired: "A woman leads you?"

Alaudis Archen - Rihad Safehouse
---


Alaudis sighed heavily as he listened to the conversation that went on around him. He'd been with his companions long enough to realize that having a short fuse wasn't going to work. Especially when being a young man of good morals travelling with murderers and thieves. The entire time he had been blowing up every time someone said something that offended him or made a stab at him, and he was tired of even replying. So in a dark corner he sat, sliding a small, rough whetstone against the blade of his silver dagger. Moving from edge to edge, switching sides after stroking down each blade as the stone made it's sound.

Shing.... Shing.... Shing...

As he sat, sliding stone against steel, he thought about what things would be like if it were only himself, Arethan, and Servyn together. Less manpower, sure, but at least we wouldn't be at each other's throats day and night. I'm afraid to sleep with that cutthroat amidst us... His concentration was broken as the conversation switched from the usual bickering to Arethan giving a command. Alaudis watched as the ashen-skinned mer rose slowly from his chair.

"Both of you, get up. Were getting the hell out of here. To the port."

Alaudis had no idea where the idea had come from, or why, but slowly rose to his feet without question. It was never a good idea to second guess someone who could blow you to pieces just by pointing at you. Everyone in the room stood up at the same time. As the other bretons offered to accompany them, Alaudis realized he was not sure how he felt about that. It would be good to have a few kinsmen with them, but nobody had any idea who they were or what their motive was. He found himself feeling rather suspicious of them. Still when it was suggested that they could be 'disposed of', Alaudis found a spark of anger ignite within him. He was fighting the urge to voice his opinion until Servyn moved over to him.

"Don't worry Alaudis. We shouldn't have to kill them unless it's absolutely necessary."

Alaudis nodded reluctantly, feeling somewhat better about the situation. He liked Servyn, especially in comparison to some of the others. Alaudis had a feeling that despite the general aura of mystery about him, he was a generally good-natured mer. Still, he had no desire to be any part of the slaying of anyone, much less young people of his own kin. All he could do was hope things didn't turn out that way. Maintaining his silence, Alaudis began to listen, waiting for Arethan to explain the plan.

Amongst those who are unacquainted with defeat...
Sentinel Palace, The War Room

It was said most Kings would slaughter a city to own the map the Elden Yokeda possessed. Most would.

The War room within Sentinel was massive, atop a massive stone table...30 meters across was a map of Hammerfell, cartographers had painstakingly mimiced every detail they had seen, every village, hut, small town and city. Caves, streams, rivers....hidden sources of water the nomadic tribes had kept secret for centuries. Red sand marked the area before Taneth and the bridge which joined the South East of Hammerfell with the rest. Smaller patches of purple sand marked the garrisons within Yokudan domains, the largest around Sentinel and at Riverview.

Haroun stood before the table, assessing the positions of his armies as well as that of the enemy, dressed in black silken robes adorned with a red sash and the crest of Ashir on his back, he pointed over to Gilane.

"Bring SOUTH ARMY to Gilane."

The men around him, appraised the Elden Yokeda in silence. They were his Generals, Ministers of War, and the Yokeda. Behind their fearsome masks, they betrayed no emotion.

The man wearing the boar mask spoke first, "And the garrisons?"

Haroun looked up, narrowed his eyes. He hated the studious and ever appraising eye of his inner circle. "Minimal, Ayuub and Barca garrisons remain, with added presence of the towns own militia. It will be left to the discretion of each Yokeda how many of his men he shall leave within his domain until otherwise stated." his words were sharp, he then again appraised the map, "Send Stros M'kai's Navy, as well as the bulk of your Navy to the bay between the confederation and Gilane, Lord Sobotai, Imperial fleets will supplement where your security is lightest." It was an order which made sense. Close proximity, forces led by a former admiral, but its direct preceding discussion left this feeling like a punishment for Sobotai, none wished to use the majority of their personal forces instead of protecting their own lands. Green sand representing Sobotai's navy was pushed into the Hunding bay by an attentive soldier, masked wielding a wooden broom absent bristle designed just for this task.

The General behind the Red Devil mask grinned.

"Artillery, Elden Yokeda? The enemy's ranged capabilities are outweighed by our own, with the bridge forcing us both into a bottle neck this can be used to great advantage."

Haroun shook his head disapprovingly, "No, too simple of an outmaneuvering, I would imagine their commander would be well versed in our tactics and expect something of the sort. Perhaps for diversionary use."

His arms were folded, his gaze intense, and his mind focused. What would the Knights not expect from him? He'd imagine many veterans from the War of the Wolves would be anolyzing all they could, expecting similar strategies and decisions from his side of the table.

"Has word from Montblanc arrived yet?"

Negative shakes of the head brought disappointment.

General Fawx, an aged but honorable and experienced soldier of SOUTH ARMY approached the table, "Perhaps a repeat of Zama during the Siege of Sentinel? With said artillery as diversion?"

Haroun looked up, nodding in approval. The man had gained his experience in service to Thassad III, at Bomlikar's beheast during the weeks following the war of the wolves, Fawx was promoted to the General of all SOUTH ARMY.

ooc: If your Ra Gada and have any interest in running military forces, pm me with desired unit numbers and sheets.