Simithara gasped as the lightning tore through the ghost behind Raza, feeling a ripple of the pain of the undead soul as it was electrocuted from this world and into the next. But the gasp was short lived, as her ears began to ring with the cries of the dead and dying. But there were other cries as well. She turned towards them, to see charging men in the distance. Two sets of them, from different directions. One group looked, from afar, like common men... the other group looked more ordained.

It didn't matter if they were on her side or not, though, as Simithara slapped her palms together, her ivory blade between them. The Dead had no side. She closed her eyes for but an instant, focusing her magical essence into her dagger, and then opened them, before crouching and plunging the glowing blade into the sand. Dark, slithering noises erupted from her throat as she spoke the unholy incantation, and her magic dispersed into the sands. There was a ripple like a soft wind, emanating in a ring from her, before dying off within a hundred yards.

As the magic traveled it pooled around the corpses of the battlefield; Bretonic, Swordsinger, it did not discriminate. All races had the equal opportunity to have their souls shackled to their husks, under her servitude. Bodies rose from the sands around her, blood drying from their death wounds and and raising blades once more. The corpses were fresh, the muscles still intact; the perfect subject for a zombie. The zombies of myth were slow, cumbersome, partly rotted. With no chance to rot, the fresh corpses of the battlefield were as good as live. They joined their spectral comrades, swinging their weapons at the Swordsingers as spells of bonechilling cold lit the battlefield.

Sadly, there were not many corpses to raise. The death toll had yet to climb to lofty heights. Still Simithara smiled as she drew the blade out of the sand and moved towards the Redguard Priscilla had electrocuted. She could still feel the pulse of life, had yet to hear his soul cry. The ring on her hand gleamed in the moonlight. I'll help you die, Ansei.

Swims-in-Shadows watched the unfolding scene with increasing confusion and worry. Why would you kill that elf? He was on his way out of here. And, why is he preparing to kill another one, especially if the hostage threatened to kill herself? If anything, we need a new hostage, not corpses. Dead elves don't compel the living ones not to attack. And what's with those teeth of his? Could he be a vampire? That could explain the speed and the magic. Mercury has a point. Serosi is a fool, and an evil one at that. I could try to stop him. If I used the gauntlet, he might die before he can react. But then, I'd never get it upgraded, and I'd have a limit to how many times I can use it. This whole scheme is doomed to fail. Swims took a step away from Serosi, but kept his distance from Inel. What was it that he could say that wouldn't anger either Mercury or Serosi? Both of them seemed quite dangerous, but Swims would have better odds against Mercury than Serosi. Still, she had seemed apologetic when she looked at him, and the Argonian was reluctant to betray her. At the same time, if he angered Serosi, he wouldn't have long to live.

"Can you think about our situation for a moment before you kill that elf? If he dies, and she kills herself," said Swims, motioning at Inel. "Then we're stuck here with no leverage whatsoever. Once the other ones figure that out, I don't think they'll hesitate to kill all of us." said Swims, raising his voice slightly in a display of anxiety.

Sunbird

"Save your own life. I can't condone this mindless idiocy," she looked at Serosi, fire burning there. "I've chosen my side." Inel stumbled two steps forward and fell to her knees. Her tear blurred eyes reached toward her brother knowing that any further movement may prompt his death.

"Can you think about our situation for a moment before you kill that elf? If he dies, and she kills herself," said Swims, motioning at Inel. "Then we're stuck here with no leverage whatsoever. Once the other ones figure that out, I don't think they'll hesitate to kill all of us." said Swims, raising his voice slightly in a display of anxiety.

The equation of the situation was fairly obvious to Serosi. He didn't need the advice nor did he have the motivation to argue. He took a step back away from Armion and put his shamshir in its sheeth. He gazed down at the wounded Altmer still coughing and shuddering from the pain, and then at Inel. There were times in the Morag Tong he felt uneasy about what he had done. He knew it was what he did, but sometimes a level of sympathy was preasant. Now there was nothing.

"Captian set a a straight course of Lainlyn. You can have your brother be taken by the healers to the back of the ship but you will stay here with me." As Serosi was done, Inel ran to her brother embracing the wounded Altmer. She flashed angry eyes at Serosi and then stood up wiping her tears away and walked toward the steering wheel. After looking at the large compass embedded in the floor under her feet she turned the ship gradually toward the right.

"Mercury..." Serosi paused for a moment before turning to her. "...you can do as you please but don't try to get in my way." He walked toward Inel standing to her right just behind her.

Riverview

The small rowboat looked as if it were ready to sink, the only available boat to the group of men looked as if it were constructed of drift wood. However, the vessel did retain its durability during the course of the short journey spanning the wide and murky river. Rilan, Louis, Oli and Max all slouched, most of their clothes seemed drab to what they had worn back home, Gaban and Maniel still held a mighty posture. Rilan had thought it borderline arrogance, but it was their noble blood, and knightly duty that kept them so taught.

Oli Pierre, an aging man and rather hawk like had owned an inn just outside of Jehanna, he had served in the legion for eight years before being discharged. He never talked about it, but it did seem like he wanted nothing to with the Empire, or imperials in general. The man grumbled, no doubt he was tired, the man had been through so much. Just like the rest of them. " Rilan" the man thought to relinquish whatever it was that plagued his mind. It caught Rilan's attention, " Do you think we'll have a home to return to after all of this? You think Darren will spread lies like a plague before we return?"

The question was a good one, one of the few Rilan couldn't think of an answer to. No doubt his former best friend had fallen to greed, but he probably didn't think that far ahead. Daren never did, if anyone thought about anything for Daren it was Luc. The bull of a man who would no doubt have the countryside rebelling against Rilan.

The boat crashed against a rocky shore, it led into a dense jungle only twenty or so yards up the rocky bank. Their army was somewhere in there, no doubt the men had already seen them coming. The sentries did their job well, and it looked as if the shipments had already reached the men by the time Rilan caught sight of the first sentry, brown leather spanning head to toe, in the red guard fashion. The short bows shared a quiver, and the short iron swords were jammed into the red sashes that indicated Maxamilien's men. Rilan had chosen yellow, Gaban blue and Maniel green, Louis chose orange and Oli chose a lavender color. Most men were regulars, simple infantry these men would be, so much easier to command than an entire army, usually comprised of nobles, their lance captains and loyal armsmen to the house.

Organized infantry, 200 men to a regiment, 8 sergeants for every 24 men, marked by a dark green baldric. All answered to one of the 6 captains. All men ready to die for their leaders, to follow them into the gates of oblivion. Most had no home, no family, no lover. Some were country boys, some city boys, some craft workers and some were even misplaced nobles. All had spent time in Jehanna or Farrun during the rebellion, all had been on the frontlines during the Battle at White Thrall Pass, all had seen the brutal duel between Rilan and Elinhir Broddrson. A relentless rebel general that had plagued the lands of east high rock.

Rilan strode to the main camp with his five captains, they no longer had horses, but their mithril armor stood out amongst the ranks of disorganized leather clad soldiers. The men were used to fighting rank and file, Rilan knew they would never win if that was the way they fought. The one and only tent was the command tent, nestled away in a tight grove of foriegn trees.

Inside, six chairs sat around a rickety table fashioned from a broken cart they had found not too far away. Rilan sat down, having dealt with situations not too far away from this during his campaign in eastern High Rock. He began," I honestly, do not know where to go next. The Mayor of riverview supplied me with extra armor from the armory and will be sending emisarries to relay information to rebel generals. In exchaneg for this hospitality he's given us a task. The river valley is under the rule of Riverview and it is rumored the legion sets its sights on here, though both he and I highly doubt it. We need to move out at once, Louis and Oli take your men east, find the nearest cluster of homesteads and setup camp near there. Any foriegn merchant's suplies are to be siezed, be harsh on any imperials and nords, especially legion supply carts. Intercept any messengers and copy the letters I want to know everything that's going on from one end of the valley to the other. Max, you're with me. Gaban and Maniel, you are to move north, no doubt the legion has patrols moving through the upper reaches of the valley, setup ambushes. Your men are our better fighters, do not disappoint me!"

With orders given the captains departed, to rally their troops.

Sunbird

The werefox watched in surprise as Swims voiced his opinion, and Serosi stopped assailing Armion. The fire in her eyes still smouldered as she looked at Serosi, and he gave his cold, thoughtless orders. This was the man Michelle thought Mercury was in competition for. A cruel, heartless man, who knew nothing but cold logic and vengeance. There was a time in Mercury's life where that had been true of her, but that time was passed- and she hated to look on it again.

Serosi, the mysterious spellweaving assassin, who she was beginning to suspect was no simple elf.

"Mercury..." Serosi paused for a moment before turning to her. Mercury stared at him, her anger still evident, "...you can do as you please but don't try to get in my way."

He went and stood behind Inel. Mercury's eyes bored into his back for a moment, before she moved to sit down, closing her eyes, straightening her back, and taking deep breaths. There's no point in letting this get personal... she told herself as she breathed, deeply and slowly. This is only temporary... And then she set about clearing her mind- the thoughts could be there, but the emotions had to go. It was a hard task- she could hide her emotions when she chose, but to wipe them away was never easy- but if she did not she would linger on it, the grudge growing larger and larger until finally she hatched a plan to exact her vengeance on Serosi. And Mercury did not like to be vengeful. And despite her anger, she did not hate Serosi.

Finally, she was calm, the animal within her that stirred in any time of high emotion now resting lest she find moonlight. Her silver eyes, now eerily calm in comparison to her smouldering anger moments before, found Serosi's back. She recounted all that had happened from a calm eye now, to cover the things that she had missed in emotion. Finally, after anolysing it all, she came back to Serosi's most recent words to her. "You can do as you please but don't try to get in my way." Before, all she had been able to think about was her anger at him assuming she would get in his way. If he was not torturing needlessly- and mindlessly!- she saw no reason to hinder him. But now, at the very least, she recognised a please in his words. Perhaps a slip of the tongue, but at least it had not been a command.

She remembered his eyes, when they were at the door... what had happened to the bosmer, and she said in a calm voice- as if she had not been willing to let loose and eat him only moments before- "The vampires... what are they to you?" She knew there was more to this connection than just him knowing them- his eyes testified to that. They had created her- had they done something similar to him? After a moment's pause, she realised she no longer had any reason to hide her twisted form of lycanthropy- she had already revealed many of its secrets. "Their scent is all over you, and your eyes are not the eyes of any mer I have ever seen."

Aldmeri Dominion Sunbird

The enthralled Bosmer showed no emotion as he carried Armion out. The sudden shifting of the stone door startled the crew waiting just outside. He stepped mindlessly amongst them and was back to himself the moment the stone door shifted back. The healers would take care of him while Inel would remain to be the one and only hostage to bargain with.

Serosi heard Mercury's questions but her curiosity surprised him somewhat. They struck him as odd. What were the vampires to him? He turned to her noticing her foxish features vanishing with the calmness of her tone. "Nothing." It was a cold and almost convincing term. Perhaps it was his sentiment but not his reality.

"Oh now brother, don't be so disregarding." As if fog passing through a window a tall all too familiar persona seemed to walk through the glass dome surrounding the bridge of the ship. The elegantly robe clad vampire that seemed to be a common annoyance to Serosi appeared. His long white hair and just as white eyes glanced at Serosi and turned to Mercury giving a bow placing his right hand over his chest as his left hand held a long daedrix flax behind his back. "Back home I am known as Lord Deshaan. I hope Serosi has not been too much trouble."

His tone, the words he said seemed simply stupid. Serosi had hardly known him most of his life. Perhaps he could kill him but the cost would be too much, the damage unrepairable. He simply turned back to Inel, his fierce eyes letting her know all she needed to know, to keep her mind to her task.

OOC: Sorry for the crappy post. In a bit of a hurry.

Imperial Legion, baggage train
Septimus looked up and smiled as he waved an inked sheet of paper in the air. It's green ink dried as the parchment whipped around. In the camp some of the legionnaires looked up, interested in what was going to be. After a brief glance to check his points he folded the document up and handed it over to the breton.

"You come just in time. I was just beginning to send everyone orders. give this to captain Gaston. You were never forgotten, dear ally...things have just been a bit...well...confused in our camp. don't worry though, everything has been set right." Aquila said gruffly and awkwardly. He was well aware that the recent shakeup in command would be taken as a sign of weakness and failure in the legion. He definitely didn't want rumors spread, but he also didn't feel comfortable about lying about something so obvious.



The nord nodded and gave a thin smile as he took the food. His heart beat a little bit faster as a cold irrational fear gripped him. Poison? Betrayal? His mind ran wild with an strong worry that the helpful little elf might be a double agent. The plate sat untouched as he busied himself with more papers, anything to excuse himself from eating the tainted meal.

Dragongrove, Breton camp
The marines and sailors were whooping and shouting their battlecries as they entered combat, swarming around the masked enemy like a wave around a jetty. The redguards in their wild masks and long hair were a terrifying sight to those men who could see them, but the mass of noise and he dark of night deadened much of the psychological impact that the singers would have had. As the two lines neared, those in the front ranks paused just long enough to loose a volley of crossbow quarrels before they charged in with axes, pikes and cutlasses.

Imperial Legion, baggage train

" Thank you, sir. " The messenger said softly, taking the message and slipping it behind his belt beside his leather gloves. A bried smile was quickly flashed as he adjusted his helmet, making sure it snug. " I know you must be a busy man, Sir Aquila, so I will not bother you any longer. Good night, sir. "

Making one more quick bow, the messenger walked away, quickly mounting up just moments later. Soon, he was riding hard towards the Breton camp, wanting to make it as soon as possible. Captain Gaston was not known to be a patient man, exploding on nearly anyone who kept him waiting.

Dragongrove

As the battlecries of marines and sailors reached the ears of the knights, fear instantly swept through them. Already under attack from deadly and skilled warriors, they knew this wave of soldiers would end only in complete destruction for their small force.

Dozens of knights spun around, willing to meet what they thought was the foe with honor. If they were going to die, they would die a death worthy of a knight. Instead of meeting more Ra Gada though, they were met with a group of Imperial marines; having been able to barely make out the armor in the faint moon light. Relieved, they returned to the fight with the masked devils, fighting with a new vigor brought on by the allies.

OOC: Zzzzz... *Snorts awake* What? I have something to do? At last!

IC: Aldaril stood resolute behind the lines of whooping and jeering marines and sailors, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Though admittedly he was a bit upset that they hadn't exactly formed a good, steady line and fought as though they were soldiers, instead rooting and raving as though they were common peasants at a bar, the sight of the men surging towards the advancing Ra'Gada was amusing to say the least. Pikes, cutlasses, axes, and other assorted weaponry gleamed in the night as they rushed towards their foes, screaming their lungs out like they were banshees sent from the depths of Hell to rain terror down upon them. Aldaril, normally the stuffy captain, even managed to let out a small laugh at the sight, as he walked calmly along behind them, not wanting to get involved in the original clash. Once they had breached the lines or slammed themselves against it like a tide against the beach, then he would enter the fray.

"Well, Lieutenant, it seems like you'll get your chance at battle after all. Let's kill these swordsingers quickly, now, as Dragon Grove still awaits us." He commented sidelong to the fellow officer, as though they were doing nothing more than strolling through the forest, rather than making their way towards a battle that looked to be as bloody as any before it. There were even the shambling dead and ghosts fighting for the Imperials... A fact that left a bad taste in Aldaril's mouth, but one that he took with a grain of salt. So long as they were in this battle, he wouldn't comment on the living dead, but once this battle was over, he had to find those Necromancers that were among their ranks...

Sunbird

Mercury's eyes honed in on the vampire as soon as he entered. Mentally, she cursed him and all his kind. Damn vampires and their supernaturalness! she mentally snarled. She hated being sneaked up on by something so powerful- it made her feel helpless.

They couldn't all do it, but a lot of the more ancient ones could. Cassandra certainly surprised her- and often. None of her thoughts showed on her face, though the beast inside of her craved satisfaction, revenge on one of the creatures that had made her life such misery. "Greetings then, Lord Deshaan..." she replied in a perfectly courteous manner. She inclined her head in acknowledgement of his station, but she did not smile. It did not do well for vampires to think you welcomed their company- even if that were the case.

Without taking her eyes from the vampire lord, she commented to Serosi, "Funny, the form that 'nothing' takes..." her voice was sly rather than angry- a tone designed to provoke anger from the incorrigible dunmer, to make him lose control like he had her. Still, she did not hate him, but she despised being lied to by someone she had offered trust. She turned her silver eyes from Deshaan now, to fix them on Serosi, and they blazed with the cunning and hunger of the fox within her. "Remind me never to trust a half-breed again." At last, she had come to the conclusion of what Serosi was. SHe had never heard of such a union herself- but she supposed, if vampires could engineer an entirely new lycanthropic disease, they could probably also arrange for a mer to bear their child.

She snapped her attention back to Deshaan, all signs of the werefox and her anger now gone, her expression- her very eyes- controlled by her iron will. "And to what do we owe this unexpected encounter?"

Serosi ignored her comment keeping his focus seemingly at the nothingness that was the dark sky before them. His past was as confusing to him as anyone else. Yet his "brother" seemed to know more of it than Serosi would have liked. He felt like a child playing hide and go seek, as if simply covering one's eyes would render them invisible. He certainly disliked having him around.

"Half breed?" Lord Deshaan as he called himself smiled slightly. "No, he's born ascended before that. 'Half breed' is neither accurate or a very nice term to actual half breeds, as you would call them." Even Serosi was listening now more closely. From the few times it was mentioned by him he had learned his father was some sort of vampire. His mother was almost never mentioned but Serosi assumed she had to be human. How else could he explain himself.

"Do you see those pretty eyes of his?" He turned to Serosi who surprised even himself by turning to face both him and Mercury. For some reason he felt more comfortable looking at Lord Deshaan rather than Mercury. "Those aren't do to anything other then superior breeding."

Serosi turned back, his face as expressionless as ever peering into Inel's back. His eyes were more so in his mind then focusing on what was before him. It was true, he had an inate ability yet unmatched. Asking too many questions internally made him feel frail and was quick to push his thoughts away focusing on his goals. The Morag Tong, Anrel...Khojmari...

Lord Deshaan walked across the room, his empty eyes seemingly staring no where though he was sure Mercury would know they were poised on her. The sound of his boots clicked against the smooth floor at slow intervals of one and a half seconds. It had a certain rythim, a confident mystery as graceful as it was terrifying. He stopped just infront of Mercury and where she sat, the tall pale Dunmer reached behind himself with his left hand, not in any dramatic motion, just enough to touch his finger tips to the edge of the long graceful falx across his back. "And you...certainly have the most interesting of scents."

Name: Dorian Hawker

Race: Redguard

Age: 28

Birthsign: The Thief

Physical Description: Dorian is of average height for a Ra'Gada with light, chocolate skin covered in tattoos to the gods of war. They cover both eyelids, his cheeks under his hazel eyes, both arms and shoulders, and his back and chest. Along with the tattoos that cover his lean, muscular body, his body is also covered in various scars of diffirent lengths and shapes. He keeps his hair in around a hundred braids that hangs about halfway down his back.


Weapons:A yatagan made of fine steel with a ivory hilt carved with beatiful, ornate scenes of desert beasts. The other is his shehai, a beatiful ethereal blade made from his soul. The blade itself is an azure blue which radiates a golden glow, with two golden cobras coming together to kiss.

Armor: A black, leather cuirass with a crown burnt into the chest. Other then that, he wears only black leather pauldrons to match his cuirass and two leather wrist bracers.

Clothing.A pair of baggy, crimson pants in the traditional style of the Ra Gada and a loose fitting red vest with gold trim is worn under the cuirass. He also wears a black, leather belt with a bronze belt buckle and a pair of faded black, travel worn boots that reach midway up his calfs. Over it all, he wears a black, hooded cape that reachs to his boots and a black scarf that he keeps over his nose and mouth.

Misc. Items: Ring of True Sight. ( Ancient Yokudan ring that aids in his perception. ) A mask made of a dark, hardwood carved to appear like a demon.

Faction Sheet: Sentinel

Mercury took in his words without comment, keeping her silver-blue eyes on Deshaan, and keeping her expression polite. Her body looked relaxed, careless even, but her mind was on high alert for any sign of danger. She could almost feel his eyes fixed on her, and she did not like it.

It stirred, briefly, a memory from her former life- before Cassandra had changed what she was. She remembered and it seemed- and might very well have been- centuries ago. The Queen Thrafey stalked around her, sizing her mortal form up, making comments about how well she would hold up to it, not caring that the semi-conscious Avalon could hear her speak.

"She'll take the disease well..." Cassandra said at last. "There is much in common with her and a fox already... I'm curious as to whether or not she'll be bound by Hircine's will, however... a fox is a much more contrary beast than a wolf, and I have tampered enough with his disease that it is almost unrecognisable..." She trailed off, and grabbed a dagger from a table, dipping it in some strange liquid substance, before moving to the small breton laying on the table.

She smiled motherly at her. "It's for your own good, my dear..." the vampiress said sweetly. "Think of it this way: you'll live ever so long, and you'll actually be interesting. Perhaps you'll find that special someone- only for him to grow old and die while you remain ageless." Her smile turned into a wolfish snarl. "I do love tragedy..." She stabbed Avalon repeatedly in the stomach, before waving a glowing blue hand over her. Avalon had awoken as a new woman.

Mercury was careful not to let her memories come over her too strongly: she needed to be aware, be on edge. But then Deshaan reached for his weapon- her eyes remained fixed on his face, refusing to let fear show.

"And you... certainly have the most interesting of scents..." he commented. Something about how he said it made her blood run cold- but that was good. Fear could easily be turned into anger, and anger was what kept her alive.

Mercury bridled, as if flattered, and gave Deshaan an oh-so-sweet smile. "I most certainly do..." she agreed in a soft, feathery voice. "Try not to disturb it: it could prove ill for you to wake the beast." Her light manner faded as her smile became feral. Something stirred behind her eyes that was not entirely human even as Mercury's heart beat fast against her ribs: the werefox was responding to her anger- and that would give her strength, so long as she did not let it free. Though the werefox was faster and more intelligent than any other werecreature, it was also much more fragile, and much more susceptible to silver. The werefox was as much scavenger as predator, and in size was a hunter of children rather than men.

"Serosi..." she said, still without looking at him. A part of her mind wondered briefly whether it was really so that she could keep an eye on Deshaan, or whether it was because she was so mad at him. "Why is he here?"

Sunbird

"To annoy me." Serosi replied to Mercury only to have Lord Deshaan laugh lightly. "You're so cruel to me, brother." His words were spoken as he looked directly at Mercury. He now stood only a step infront of her. His hands moved forward brushing up against the side of his robe like attire, a definate sign of his Dres nobility.

"I enjoy beautiful things. Some I collect, others I leave as be. To me beauty his rooted in grace. The first sign of grace to me is in the eyes and hands. You can read much about the depth of one's mind by how their eyes and hands move. My dear brother i'm sure has the same eye depth as I do, perhaps more, but lacks the will to show appriciation toward it." He looked over toward Michelle, still deep in sleep after having been knocked out.

His tall figure bent down somewhat, his long arms reached forward, his fingers delicatly pointing toward her left hand stopping just short. His face was handsome and kind yet with a greyish pale and even lighter eyes. "May I?"

In the distance Inel could see the forest on the western coast of Hammerfell. Where were these crazy people taking her ship, if they could even be called people. It was as if the deepest depths of Tamriel conjured these...monsters on her ship. She felt her heart pound in her heart like a hammer strikin the inside of an iron briastplate and didn't dare look behind her. Vampires, they were demons that took on the form of mortals. What disgusting things.

" Damn it! I hate those eastern, ash-eating devils! " Gaston shouted, throwing a silver flask at the messengers head, who at the last minute managed to duck enough for it to barely graze his head. " The nerve of that Aquila to ask us to help those bastards out! " He continued, still clenching the letter tightly in one hand. By now, his face was a deep shade of crimson, with little veins popping up along his forehead.

" But, sir! Look at it like this. " One of the sergents spoke up, trying to regain a measure of control at this meeting which was growing out of control. " If we help the Dunmer crush the Ra Gada force, we will be that much closer to returning to Highrock and leaving this damn desert. I know you may not like it, sir, but this is the best option. "

Taking in a deep breath, Captain Gaston slid a leathery hand over his hair to smooth it down, trying to regain his composure he had lost just minutes before. Taking a small sip of wine to clear his throat, he began to speak once again, this time in a much softer tone. " Perhaps your right. Let us aid these heathen dogs...then perhaps we can return home sooner. "

Taking out a small piece of parchment, captain Gaston went to writing out another letter. His quill worked furiously and minutes later, the note was finished and ready to be delivered. " Take this to the Dunmer camp. If my reports are correct, it should be in the area. " Gaston said, pointing at a small area on the map. " Hurry up, I'll be waiting. "

" Yes, sir. " The messenger said, taking the letter before he quickly jogged off towards his mare. It seemed like this would be a very long night.

OOC: I'll be writing in parts, too many errors when I try to post the big fat, juicy, throbbing posts.

IC:
4 AM, Saladin's Army

"Flyte! Where is Flyte and the ash skin?!? Damn it, get Aryon up here too!" Saladin was rushing to his horse, naked blade in hand, his fist clenched securely around the hilt.

The army was forty minutes behind what Saladin had initially expected for them in regards to getting ready to march, and equipping themselves for combat. Even after the General had added in the estimated time a rag tag army would need, these were supposedly Hammerfell's best, and the Swordsingers and Scarabs were the only one who showed any professionalism at all.

He sent Guilaume's men, the arbalesters towards the front, mingling with the Royal infantry. Hopefully they'd be able to set anyone willing to attack downhill the mountain, even then they'd literally be fighting an up hill battle.

An out of breath officer sped behind the bearded Ra Gada, sand in his beard, and liquor in his hair, the General was pissed at the austere conditions.

"General..."

"State your damned business."

"Three soldiers Sir, of our militia strayed a bit further then commanded during patrol.

"And?...did you remind them to stick to orders?"

"Ah...ehrm...No Sir, the bodies were mutilated beyond recognition, only there armor identified them as one of us."

Saladin stopped in his tracks, turned around solemnly, "Don't let word spread, from now on everybody sticks close to the Camp....if its Vulnim's influences leaking from the area, then the men will panic...the next few nights will be long ones..."

And as Professionally as they could, the Army began its march through a forest, and up a mountain. The goal was to scale it by dawn, be down it and in Laynlin before Noon.

Here was to hope....

ooc: Now Don't judge me, I'll be adding in a bit more n more of the original post.

Ayuub Clan

Baibars rubbed his eyes. The nomads were all long asleep, save for the watchmen, who were either wearily leaning against their spears and staring out into the desert, or tending to the fires so that they didn't die out. All was peaceful and quiet, except for the small moving 'hills' - the Desert-Striders, which were too calm asleep, occasionaly grunting or shifting, waking up their mahouts that slept on top of them. If it wasn't for the fact the men were all feeling unnerved and kept very quiet, it would seem that there was no war at all. Indeed, the Ayuubs had suffered relatively little directly, as the Cyrodiils did not wish to carry the fight to the Alik'R; still, they were forced to move their herds further north than usual to avoid the war, and many of the beasts they hunted had been driven off deeper into the desert as well. Not to mention the whispers that the desert spirits wandered in greater numbers, disturbed from their sleep...

Such a calm night... It is a pity that I cannot afford the pleasure of sleep. If HoonDing will be with us, then I shall have plenty of time to rest after the war is over and the infidels are banished... And if not, then all of us may find our bodies laid to an untimely rest. The Khan sighed. Feeling his exhaustion, despair slowly started creeping in. At this late hour, Baibars had already begun questioning his decision. And it was not yet too late to withdraw... His people did not long for war, they would justify his change of mind in their own ways. And Shirkuh... His brother would be only too happy to leave the settled peoples to their business, let alone the Barcas, which were never particularly well-liked amongst the Ayuubs - two large tribes as these were bound to have some brushes with each other.

No! Baibars suddenly rose and began walking around his tent. I must not give in to despair. Hope is something I give to myself, as father used to say. Tall Papa protect me from straying from my path...

Minutes later, worn from the fight with himself, Baibars finally fell asleep, but found no peace even there.


Manfred

Having not slept for several days, the weariness left a notable mark on Manfred's face - his eyes half-closed, it was evident he was trying to fight back yawning. His head felt like it was being ripped apart, though the Flyte Lord found some relief in the cold night air that soothed his headache slightly. This reminded him of his youth in Anticlere, when he wouldn't avoid a glass, a bottle, or indeed even five bottles or more depending on the occasion. Now, with a Lorddom to rule, he had almost forgotten this habit of his, although he still kept some very fine wines in his castle for more special visitors or occasions.

All this weariness struck like a hammer as soon as he started looking for Saladin; it wasn't even half as bad when he idly sat in the camp. However, something told him he'd have to find Saladin, or risk marching alongside the rank-and-file Ra Gada, whose comrades his troops had killed not that long ago. Saladin was not only his information, but indeed his survival. Either him or that Guillaume, although Manfred had his doubts regarding how much did the man actually care for his life. And, of course, there was the fact the Lord of Anticlere wouldn't stand his help under any circumstances. So, finding Saladin it was.

That actually wasn't that much of a challenge, and Manfred soon made his way to his previous position at Saladin's side.

All seemed to be at peace in the Alik'r, with Masser and Secunda's soft, pale rays pouring out across the coarse sands. All except for a lone figure that is. The cool breeze whipped his dark robes and hair about him, yet he stood there, almost as if he was welcoming the icy winds.

Just an hour ago he was in deep meditation in his small stone room inside the temple, but that was before he was stirred to action by the countless sword tremors that assaulted his sences. They were coming from the south, and was gentle as lapping waves at first; but as the battle raged on, grew more violent by the second. It seemed like the beatiful song of the sword would be sang all night long. Highly perceptive eyes gazed south across the Alik'r as the ansei longed to be south instead of here at his post for the time being.

A gentle sigh escaped his lips as he broke his gaze for a moment to watch his left index finger trail across the ornate carvings upon his ivory hilt, a habit he had since his youth when he was bored. He continued to ball his right hand into a fist though, flexing the slender, muscular digits as if he was about to grip a sword. It was kept in time with the violent tremors he felt, almost as if it was on complete instinct.

" I wish master Vega would return soon. This waiting is killing me...."

Breton Camp

Word was spreading through the camp quickly, and soon all the knights, spellswords, and sorcerers were awake and gathering their gear and preparing to move out incase they were needed by the Dunmer. The mood was solemn, with them knowing if they saw battle, they would possibly loose close friends to the skilled enemy. Most now just sit around the small campfires, talking softly of writing letters for home to be delivered upon their death.

Meanwhile, the Breton messenger had to be closing in on the Dunmer camp by now, and it was that very thought that scared him. Just days earlier, Lord Montrose had ordered an attack on Helseth's supply trains, slaughtering everyone there and torching the wagons. If the ash born wasn't in a forgiving mood, his head could easily end up on the end of a pole.

Slowing his mare to a trot, he began to nervously look about him, jumping at the sounds of birds flying about the thick bamboo. Every sound was either a Ra Gada or a Dunmer preparing to jump out and end his life. His left hand slowly went to his silver shortsword which he gripped tightly, something that brought a bit more comfort to him as he rode on.

OOC. FC4 or Immortal, I'll let either of you decide on where you find the messenger because I'm not sure where the camp is.

The tiny bosmer sat on one crate and propped his legs up on a taller one beside him, crossing his arms behind his head and laying that on yet another taller crate, placing him in what should have been an uncomfortable U shaped position. Uncomfortable for anyone larger than a kid, that is. Jas began to hum to himself softly, a child's bedtime song from the forests of his home, which sounded more like a mixing of animal noises in soft musical arrangements than a civilized piece of music.

After a few minutes, his foot stopped dancing in the air to the tune, and the procurer looked over to Aquila. Frowning, he twisted in place into a sitting position on the crate, then hopped down. His footsteps as he approached were light and nearly inaudible; not purposely, but almost completely naturally for the stealthy elf. When he came up beside Aquila, he pointed at the candle on the desk. The wax had melted in the time since Jas had delivered the food, enough to be noticeable.

"See all that wax? It's been at least a quarter hour since I gave you that meal. I reason you haven't touched it out of paranoia." Jassan explained, before putting his hands in front of him, palms up innocently, a child displaying his lack of guilt. "If I was poisoning you, you dolt, I would have forced you to eat it the moment I gave it. Now stop starving yourself, or I WILL restrain your frail ass and baby-spoon feed you the crap."


Bordering the Dunmer Camp
The sounds of birds flying were a part of the forest music, yes, but another sound accompanied them. The taunt pull of string. Several bowstrings. All around the messenger.

Hoarse, dry-throated words were exchanged in the shadows of the forest as the Dunmeri Scouts discussed their find, before one of them stepped into the Breton's light. The chitin armor was dull compared to the metallic shine of the Breton, and made the scout seem more apparition than being.

"State your business, or die."

It would be easy for the scouts to see that they startled the Breton as they stepped into the pale light, causing him to yank the poor mares reins tightly and let out a small yelp from surprise. Large eyes studied the scout for a moment as he registered what the Dunmer had sad. Although his grasp of the Dunmeri tounge was rough at best, he new enough to understand to major words. Buisness and die.

" I..." His voice came out high pitched and he had to take just a moment to clear his throat before he continued, with a more confident tone and aura. " I come at the bidding of Glenpoints commander, Captain Gaston, to give this message to King Helseth. " To prove that he spoke the truth, he moved his hand slowly down to his belt and removed the small letter. He was careful to move slowly, trying to show he was no threat. After he had the message out ahead of him for the scout to see, he continued on. " Commander Aquila, of the legions, suggested we aid you. Time is not on our side, so may I see him? "

The tingling sensation swept over aquila like a wave on shore. oh thank the nine...

He sipped at the tin cup that was full of flin, grace of his new right hand man, Centurion Titus.



"Sweet Talos, you god damned elf!" He shouted, as surprise electrified his thin form. "Look, I am ever grateful for your help, and the help of your friends, but you are still mercenaries, and mercenaries hold a low place next to lizards in my eyes. now goddammit, yes i don't trust you, yes i am worried about poisoning...I'll eat some food, but it'll be nothing but hard crackers for me." He said, his eyes dull with drink. after fumbling and clanking around for a moment he pulled a square biscuit from it's wooden grate that lay to the right of him. Raising it to his mouth, he pulled and tore the stale hard bread from the square. "see, I eat..."

He took a deep breath and another sip from his cup. his words had been harsh and he knew it.

"I'm sorry, Jassan. Things are tense as I'm sure you well imagine, I don't mean to sound ungrateful." His voice trailed off as he became bereft of words.

"Sepp, you disappoint me..." Jean said in a subtle and mocking tone. "Making amends? At least the old Sepp wasn't as weak as this new one." Aquila glared at his long dead friend.

"Jassan you and your band have done exceedingly well. you have done everything that has been asked. I am remiss for doubting you." he said, glareing at Jean while he spoke. then, without hesitation, and half wishing for death, he took a largwe bite of the food offered by the smalll bosmer. Slowly chewing and swallowing the food, he then raised a large and extended finger at Jean.

"If you poison me you do me a favor. If not than it is an interesting turn of events."

"We offer you prisoners that we have taken in response for those you have taken from us, however, as for the Bretons and dunmer, we respectfully decline your offer. If you wish to exchange them for something, you must seek the council of wayrest and Morrowind. The empire is not the despotism you believe it to be, and we will not negotiate on behalf of our allies."

Dawnstar
The Emissary

Qusay managed a glance between the blasts of steam exhibiting from his ears. Red-faced, he muttered a few prayers and pulled himself back together. No, no, Qusay! Your career depends on this meeting... the good of Hammerfell too... Overstep your boundaries and this will all come crashing down.

"Does the Council feel the strain of this war, lords? As necessary as it is to exchange prisoners, ultimately, this is war and war is not a good thing. Lives are being lost and honourable, peaceable men are being degenerated to cutthroats before our very eyes, and at our commands. Hammerfell wishes to exchange prisoners, aye, we will not leave this room if it takes the nights to come for us to negotiate the exchange. The difficulty here is... Hammerfell is not going to concede this war, Ancaria."

"If it pleases you, we will even open negotiations to end the war... But be wary, that we will not given in to any unreasonable demands. It will be our terms... our people are being put to the sword at your orders. Our people are being subjugated, prejudiced and segregated because we are raga. This is a war for survival, and we will win by even the most unorthodox means. We have survived the destruction of an ancient homeland, a very continent, Old Yokeda... You will learn that our heritage..." Qusay quickly tried to stitch his sentiments together, and they managed to drip with confidence.

"We ended the Left-Handed Elves whose empire was bigger than Tamriel. Perhaps we cannot do the same again... But you are not fighting a simple border skirmish. We mean war. And it will end as soon as you are ready."

The Dunmeri scout looked at the messenger, and the red eyes shinned with mirth. Those eyes seemed to dance with laughter as the scout lowered the bow, letting the string relax.

"I can understand Bretonic, regardless of the accent." The Dunmer replied, his voice harsher than the Breton's accent, but it was definitely Bretonic words. "And if you can understand Colovian in our accent easier, Sishma here speaks it quite fluently." The Scout motioned towards another figure to his left, and the figure who approached wore a helm, unlike the other scout in the moonlight. But one could tell on close inspection; the cuirass chest was larger, and the form more lithe overall. As the Chitin helm came off and raven hair fell from it, it was obvious it was a female.

"Helseth will indeed see you, but we happen to be on the march." She spoke in Colovian. "Heten, are you sure these n'wah understand Colovian?" She asked in Dunmeri.

"Does it matter?" Heten, the scout who initially spoke up to the messenger replied in Dunmeri. Then he turned to the messenger with a grin. "We'll take you. Just try to keep up." He teased, switching to Bretonic. The two scouts in the moonlight turned and started to run eastward. The third, who hadn't revealed himself, continued to remain hidden even though he ran with them.


Jassan raised an eyebrow at the fact Septimus was pointing at thin air, crossing his arms. Then, he chuckled. That chuckle became a barely contained laugh, before the thief drew one of his daggers and began to twirl it between his fingers, shoulders still shaking. "Tense? Tense?!" Sighing out of his laugh, Jassan tossed the dagger upwards. As it came down his wrist flicked with barely a blur. One of the crates he'd once been sitting on thudded dully, the dagger sticking out of it. Jas didn't even look towards the weapon.

"You, my good commander, need to work on your stress management! You see, I'm never tense, I rarely snap at people. Why? Because I try to find humor in EVERYTHING! You need to search for a silver lining, Aquila. It's there somewhere, you just need to look a little." He slapped Aquila on the shoulder, leaning close to the man and speaking into his ear.

"And I'm not doing this for money, Aquila. I don't trust nobles, politicians, councilmen, their ilk. I steal from them. I'd prefer a drunk oaf like you and misguided wacko like what's-his-face-you-knocked-out in charge than some council-appointed [censored]." Jassan smiled widely, and patted Aquila. "You can thank me when the war is done." Releasing the commander's shoulder, the tiny elf moved back to his crates, pulled the dagger from the crate, and leaped into his previous reclining position.

EDIT: Oops, wrong thread (slaps forehead) one should never try to post past 11 PM