Lainlyn-Vulnim Road
"Up the road a bit is the rear of the Legions, you might want to try there. Just keep riding, you can't miss them." The voice said, more relaxed. There was a crackling sound as the men decocked their crossbows and walked out onto the road. Without saying another word to the messanger, they continued on their patrol.

Dawnstar
The Emissary

Suoibud grunted as he shut the door behind the emissary. Kyne! what have I done this time? He strode down the hall, his course set for the docks.

Qusay sat down where indicated. He revealed nothing. This was his ruthless facade that protected his soft - marshmallowy - love for his people. "We aren't going to make introductions, lords? I apologize for the Nord... He was my guide as I acquainted myself with this city as I could, earlier."

Already the onslaught begins, and it begins with accusations! We, those who did not try to make peace... If Council in their high seats gave us autonomy, this war wouldn't have happened!

"Before I answer," he returned to the point briefly with a hint of sarcasm, "Yes, I am Qusay Denka, a lord of Hammerfell. There are other ambassadors... I have a trail of adjutants, and a senior advisor will follow soon... Your name, pray tell, Cyrodiil?"

Once upon a time they said I couldn't be a general, I couldn't make war. This is a different theatre, we shall see.

IC:
Dawnstar

The cold climate of Dawnstar was not familiar to Enitan, but it was Ra Gada land in his eyes, and he still stepped on it with pride. The Nords had long stolen the lands from the Ra Gada, but Enitan would make sure that his children, or Grandchildren would fight for it.

He stepped into the den of the Political Lions, the Counsel of this war's conduct. The skeleton framed man looked over each of them, and to his own allied ambassador.

"Council." he said with a nod before sitting down, his mouth performing a chewing motion although nothing was inside. It helped him think in his own age.

"I am a Senior Ambassador of the Sentinel Council, Enitan Kojo. An honor to peacefully negotiate what should have been done much sooner." his wooden cane rested in front of him, both of his hands on it. With off white eyes he looked over the Council, brown orbs trying to take in all around him. His heart no longer beat fast at the excitement, he took everything slowly, and calmly.
---------------------------------------
Breton Army

The second Swordsinger being attacked by the Knights twirled his blade in a windmill motion instinctively, it was all muscle memory, to collide with the other swords, and eventually push them to the ground. His Kalis moved with unnatural grace and purpose, completely confident in its destination. The blade sang through the air, it was made of Desert walker Bone, extremely sturdy, with a Ra Gada Ivory handle. Some of the most prestigious materials a Swordsinger could wield as a weapon.

As his blade twirled about in its motion, he slid it forward and performed yet another windmill....attempting to disarm the attackers, literally. All the while in silence. His demon visage betrayed no emotion, neither did his voice. It was terrifying.

The first sword Singer with his chained Khopesh began twirling the blade on a chain above his head, it singing through the air as it passed each of the attackers, his free Falchion going for the bone shaver, a technique that caused horrible injury, shaving parts of a limb to the bone.

Standing still, he raised his arm up just enough to allow the enemy sword under his swinging chain, and used most of his concentrated core strength to block the enemy's attack, a chip flying from his blade caught his eye through his mask. His blade slid across the enemy sword's edge, to its side, and over the sword's spine, until the Swordsinger flicked it forward and sent it sliding across until it would shave off part of the enemy's hand, and forearm... the Sword Singing techniques were brutal, but ingrained into each swordsman's reflexes...it all came naturally.

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

Breton Army, Down South


Raza noticed a flicker at his Shehai, it moved where he did not allow it, and he concentrated harshly at the ethreal blade. He was its master, it would do as he willed it, he was the blade. And he was no novice Swordsinger, he should have complete mastery over his mind and soul, what seemed a minor nuisance disturbed him and angered him before he rushed forth and entered combat. He first sped into a group of warriors just reaching for their weapons after being awakened and attacked with extreme prejudice.

The two other sword singers did the same, their blades dancing in an eerily beautiful way, the bone shaving, steel slicing, and gut wrenching sounds being the song, along with the sounds those damned blades made every time they moved towards their next target. The Swordsingers had given a new meaning to the song of the blade.

ooc: Sorry for the crappyness, sped it up because I can't concentrate.

OOC: I presume I have no authority to kill any swordsingers... but I thought there were more than three around Christopher...

IC: The Swordsingers charged forward, but Simithara kept her smirk as they came, unlike the warriors who responded. All she did was grip her dagger tighter at her side, and snap her fingers.

The swirls of sand that had once been behind the swordsingers intensified, and nineteen figures came into ethereal, softly glowing existence. Each wielded blades, some of Redguard and some of Bretonic smithing, but ethereal, unnatural blades all the same. The army of souls soundlessly rushed after the Swordsingers from behind, their icy spiritual blades desiring the taste of warm flesh. Armor, clothing, bone; none of it would stop the cut of their blades. Only one salvation would come to these brave warriors; their weapons. Simithara knew Swordsingers wielded special material weapons as she had been hunted by one for some time. But even a blade such as theirs would find spirits difficult to slay. A simple fatal wound for a mortal was meager to a spirit.

No... the souls of the dead would have to take enough damage to divide their spirits from her connection to them and the material of their manifestation, before they could fall. And even then.... She could always raise more. They haven't even faced my full army capability...

Dawnstar
"I am Gerich Ancaria, and with me are the honorable Claude Bantien and Ulen Ravel. We are members of the Imperial Joint committee on the conduct of the war. We are hear to discuss the exchange of prisoners and find out what the hell was so pressing that you couldn't try and solve this with diplomacy. Now, aside from your rebellious declaration of war, we have not gotten any statement of purpose or demands from your side. Now we are here to discuss things peaceably." The Imperial said, rather annoyed at the cold. He huddled deeper into his chair and his cloaks before taking another pull of the warm mead. The Breton and Dunmer that had been introduced as Claude and Ulen sat blankfaced and deadeyed. They seemed to at least be less grumpy than Gerich.

Outside the Breton Camp near Dragon Grove
Sounds of fighting just began to dance through the night air and excite the men deployed in the bamboo. The Marines and Sailors instantly went from distracted and bored to on edge and tense. The midshipman's eyes seemed to dart back and forth from the action ahead to the officers behind. The men were like pitbulls, alert with teeth bared, just waiting to be freed from their leash.

"Your orders sir?"

Sunbird

The salty altmer nodded to the bosmer, while within Mercury siezed with relish the opportunity suggested to her. That the bosmer had asked it to casually meant that he would find it acceptable- indeed, that he expected it. "Indeed I am, indeed I am..." the altmer growled in his low voice. Despite his admission, there was a sort of quite authority to his manner. "But none the less, when the Captain gives an order, I jump. Wants to see the prisoners and I don't intend to catch any flak for disobeying him, if that's alright, and I'd hope you wouldn't put me in that mess either." It was said so calmly, so reasonably, and without any discernable hesitation, it would be impossible to doubt it. Mercury revelled in her own lies: sometimes, she amazed even herself. "But... as it happens, I'm not sure of the way. Don't suppose you could point me in the right direction, together lad like yourself?" he looked mildly embarassed, and the subtle flattery was perfectly executed. "As you rightly guess, I've not yet got my bearings..." he gave a smile that, on his weathered face, was more of a grimace.

Part of her mind focused on Serosi, Swims and Michelle, she silently prayed that they would do nothing stupid. She acted extremely well so far, her opportunism extending so far as to even use the excuse handed to her by the bosmer to get directions to the captain. But if Michelle did something stupid, or Serosi and Swims suddenly attacked, there would be trouble. Swims seemed like a reasonable sort, but Serosi was an unknown quantity. He could easily abandon a perfectly functioning plan, in Mercury's eyes anyway.

Aldmeri Sunbird

"...disobeying him..." The words struck the Bosmer like a board across the back of the head. Him? Captian Inel was the only captain here...and she wasn't a he. Maybe a slip of the tongue? The Altmer was new to the ship. Could the ship have been infiltrated? He turned his head slightly looking at Mercury's Altmer form, and then toward the prisoners. After a moment of rubbing his chin and convincing himself he spoke. "First off the captian is a she. You're on one of the Dominion's famous Sunbirds and you don't even know who the captain is? You some junkie from the Elsweyr front? Geez they'll let anyone on the Sunbirds these days. Guess we have to do with what we get being spread out so far."

Serosi listened to the Bosmer's words with none of the information surprising him. The Aldmeri Dominion had capable soldiers though rather frail. They filled out many of their ranks with beasts and though this helped the numbers issue, it still left leadership thin. The legions had taken advantage of this in the Summerset rebellion and made quite a bit of headway by targeting the leadership in the Dominion armies.

"This way." The bosmer grumbled as he walked toward the end of the rather large room. Even though this was a mess hall for the crew, it was rather luxerius in true Altmer fashion. A legionnaire would kill every elf in the room before dying of jealousy themself. Several tunnels leading throughout the ship were before them. The Bosmer of course picked the correct one. The blueish glowing walls started to dim as they made their way several meters forward before reaching some stairs. "We're entering night cruising." The bosmer grumbled aimlessly. The Sunbirds absorbed magick from the sun allowing it to stay afloat. At night the Sunbird moved slower to conserve the energy and use it more efficiently.

Command Deck

The room was large and circular with a half glass dome covering the front of it. At its edges several tall robed Altmer stood looking out across the cloud sea. In the middle was a raised chair hung from the cieling above a circular platform of seven steps. An elegant female Altmer robed in white sat in the chair with an armored Altmer by her side.

"Captian we've entered night cruise completely. A slight north west to south east wind will carry us toward land a bit more then previously thought." One of the officer's voices reported to Inel. She sat in her seat with the most proper of postures. She gave a slight nod and turned to the Altmer to the right of hear seat and addressed her brother. "Are you sure you don't want to wait for her?" She refered to Armion's love.

"No. We had already spoken that something like this may happen. If the Dominion needs me i'll be where I am needed." Armion spoke with courage but a sadness was obvious in his voice. Inel reached over and grasped her brother's hand to comfort him.

Dawnstar
The Emissary

Qusay nodded. The representatives shivered and the Redguard examined the other two men, Ulen and Claude. They lacked Gerich Ancaria's obvious aggression and that was only a good thing for the time being. But Qusay knew not to trust men like that. Bastards, all of 'em, the cheeky bastards who'd keep their traps shut just waiting for the moment to pounce. The kind of men that never played their cards right but somehow won in the end.

Qusay reveled in the silence, allowing himself a few checked, silent breaths. "I believe that the intentions of the Redguard state were obvious from the beginning. If they were not at the beginning, it has become more obvious since then. This is a war of independence, a war of liberation... We do not know exactly what happened at that Elder Council meeting, but even the Forbears refuse to have our state cut up like giblets in the abattoir for your generals to call themselves... a pretty name. Emperor is just a title, today. It has no meaning, and it will continue to have no meaning until a dragon sits the Red Dragon Throne."

"Raga pride has kept us from treating with the Legion's generals. Diplomacy is a device that would only work in your favour so far. Diplomacy bides your time, keeping us in check as we await your words. The Elden Yokeda knows that we have no need to treat and wait for your Legions to rally. But now, now that the war is looking to have the Redguard state a victor, it is in everybody's interest to agree to this meeting."

Let's see what this tribunal has to say now. Verily, it feels like a tribunal.

IC:
Dawnstar

In his old age, Enitan was apathetic to most things that a younger man would find enraging, or the average wise man would care for. It all seemed as if a dream that he was only partially connected to. With professional admiration, the elder looked to Qusay and nodded with approval.

Thats right my boy, offer no apology. Show them we have power, and we demand respect.

The Imperial who spoke for the Council so far was arrogant, and extremely confident, he was unsubtle and could prove an excellent lance arm in a verbal joust. Enitan chewed on his Qat and allowed a few seconds before he followed up in the discussion.

"The Elden Yokeda, Thassad III had seen it fit in his golden wisdom for the province of Hammerfell to see to its own interests, and secede from it before a similar fate that had befallen Valenwood in the wake of the power vacuum after the Elven war. An entire province given up, to the High Elves. A good ruler cannot allow that to happen to his people, and that along with taxes, military conscription, and the desire for our culture's preservation had led the High King to his decision." The bitter taste of the mild narcotic filled his mouth, an orange sap was being produced which led to a sweet contrast.

"Naturally, the Elder Council would want to hold onto a Province and population such as ours, which has led us to the war. Currently there have only been military negotiation, and aggressive negotiation, this would be the first official summit concerning conduct in this war, and admirably it is the Empire who has called for it." he said it matter of factly, in a hoarse voice, with a strong accent. He subtly smirked at choice words to add the effect of being confident and defiant, he had no intention of making this easy for the Imperials.

A look of pure terror could be seen for a bried moment as the knight watched the hooked blade of the black devil slide down the length of his sword, seconds before it was flicked across his hand and forearm. Instantly it was felt, a wave of agony that made him drop his sword and almost vomit.

The others watched in horror as his right index finger and thumb was sheered from his hand and sent flying through the air. A peice of flesh and a shard of steel soon followed afterwards, results of the shaved wound that reached halfway up his forearm, revealing the white bone underneath. With every beat of his heart, blood spurted from the stubs that use to be his fingers.

This display made the other knights hesistate for a moment, but it soon passed. Rage overtook the fear that held them in place and with the cry " Get the bastard! " echoing in the air, they all charged in again. Some swinging their swords in a overhead chop while others stabbed out ahead of them. All were intent on ending this as quickly as possible.

The other group of knights didn't seem to be having any luck either. So damn fast... was the only thought that raced through his mind before his right hand was completely removed by the quick, fluid motion of the unique blade, leaving nothing but a bloody stump to pour his life blood upon the sand.

He instantly fell back and dropped to his knees, clenching his bloody nub to his chest, fighting to control the blood loss and the relentless pain that continued its brutal assault on his sences. Curses dripping with venom and spittle were growled through gritted teeth. He was now out of the fight for good.

" Damn it! What in the hell is this bastard!? " Shouted one of the remaining two knights, battling the swordsinger. They to hesistated for a moment, fearing that what just happened to their friend would also happen to them. After what seemed like an eternity, one shook off the fear and stalked in again, making sure to keep his thick shield ahead of him. He had to find a weakness somewhere.

" I don't know, man! Just [censored] it...lets get out of here! " Snapped the other, glancing towards his charger that was now about forty feet away. [censored]! [censored] heavy armor! I can't make that run, can I? Damn horse had to run off over there...now I'm dead. We're all dead. If only I could get back to the camp and get help.

" Oh god, oh god, oh god....." Soon became the mantra of the wounded knight on his knees, as he slowly began to shake back and forth. He was growing paler and weaker by the second, the result of having lost way to much blood in a very short amount of time. " Plea..please dont let me die here. I want to go home...I ...I have to go ho..home. My wi..wife is due soon..with our fir...first child. " He said weakly, pleading to his friends to rescue him from this dark situation that looked hopeless.

........................

Large, lavender orbs gazed in a mixture of awe and fear at the shehai of the Ra Gada that charged into the first group of knights first, dealing death without remorse or hesistation. Plump lips trembled as she watched the beatiful blade sing through the air, carving a bloody path as he stalked foward.

" Priscilla, snap out of it! I need you know more then ever! Use your magic! Use it now or we die! " Was what snapped her out of her deep trance. Across the field, she could see Christopher, Phillip, and a dozen other knights moving towards Raza, while the rest swarmed towards the other swordsingers. As he pointed towards the one with the large afro, she knew that was the one he wanted her to focus on.

Little known to her, Ra'Kava was also turning his full attention on the Ra Gada dog, seeing he was the largest threat of the three that came out of the forest. If he can't move...he will be easy pickings. With a smile that flashed a mixture of yellow and white, the large cathay-raht dropped to one knee and stabbed both scimitars into the ground on each side of him. With a quick series of handsigns that helped him focus his spiritual magic, Ra'Kava brought down both hands in a blur, touching both palms onto the sand, fingers spread wide apart.

Raza would have a split second or two to react and move before the very sand he was standing on shot up and wrapped around his ankles, hardening as it held him in place. Once captured, the only way he could escape is if Ra'Kava willed. Sure, the shehai could slice through the sand with ease, but the sand would instantly close behind the slice of the spirit blade rendering it and any other blade useless. This move came with its price though, with Ra'Kava having to keep his hands constantly on the sand, exposing him to attacks and leaving him at the mercy of the knights protecting him.

Priscilla, meanwhile was already deep in the process of casting a spell. The hair on her arms began to dance wildly and the air around her began to crackle and pop as little streaks of lighting coursed off her fingers before fading away. Soon, after the spell reached its desired strength, she extended both of her hands and released the eletrical energy. It shot forth quickly, heating the air on its course as it continued to crackle. If it hit Raza dead on, it would likely kill him.

..............................................

" Many thanks. " The messenger quickly said, raising one hand to his forehead to give a quick salute before spurring the mare, which was soon cantering down the old road with her rider. After several minutes of riding, he found the rear of the legion camp just like the patrol had said.

Dismounting, he tied the reins to a shaft of bamboo and walked over to a nearby group of men who seemed to be laughing and having a good time. They appeared to be dressed up in Redguard clothing and wrestling around on the ground, something which got a chuckle from the tired Breton. " Greetings, chaps. Would anyone know where I could find your commander? "

Dawnstar
The Nords

Suoibud walked merrily along the docks of Dawnstar with his expression as blank as the grey skies above. The only hint to his cheer was his unusual, upbeat gait which brought a smile and a wave from those knew him. The docks, though dull and sombre, were very much full of life. Here along to the mainland side sat a man at an untuned piano tapping out a treacherous, swinging waltz accompanied by a fiddle. Further along, a troupe of the most eloquent Bretons east of the Iliac produced a frightful rendition of the Horror of Castle Xyr. Suoibud dropped a few coins in their hats.

"Suoibud! What's happening up in the castle?"

Suoibud spun. Hsaarik and Folca dipped and ducked through the crowds and suddenly appeared next to him. Hsaarik's booming call carried over the noisy docks. "Yes," Folca said too, quickly brushing back a few blonde strands that fluttered across his brow.

"Well... Come over here, sirs, and I'll tell you what I know..."

Dawnstar
The Emissary

Qusay smirked. Ah yes, the old man could talk alright. He didn't get to his spot by sitting in chairs and spitting in bowls all day. He leaned back for a moment, then shuffled in his green velveteen coat which its vogue silver embroidery. The silence is palpable, heh.

Dres Army Camp

General's Tent

Aside from a carpet and a table there wasn't much else inside the tent. It had been quickly put together on Voneri's orders rather then Andarys' since he had not planned to sleep at all the night. During the Arnesian war he had stayed up for several days straight in the marshlands of Argonia. He savored the glory of the past, at helping destroy the tyranical argonian army.

"What are you thinking about?" Voneri spoke with her back at Andarys lifting up a dark red robe around her slender unarmored figure. Through the thin material robe, typical of the warmer south Morrowind climate, could be seen the darker edges of the leather straps worn right against the skin. It was known as a "Dres armor harness". A leather boiled netch leather skeleton worn on both Dres soldier and horse allowing armor to be easier to put on or removed while also allowing much greater mobility.

"Just the past." Andarys spoke with an empty stare in his eyes at the bottom of her robe. He was sitting on the carpet still mostly armored except for his cuirass and gauntlets with, along with his weapon were set behind him. His chest and upper arms

"Alonesa?" Voneri's voice shuddered slightly. What a stupid question, of course he'd think of his wife. She thought of her as a sister and Andarys as a brother, but sometimes Alonesa seemed like an obstacle and Andarys like forbidden love. She looked down at the lean and handsome Dunmer, her eyes tracing his features adoringly. As soon as she realized what she was doing she looked away blushing slightly. She admired his loyalty to Alonesa, something that only furthered her feelings for him yet sometimes she wished he wasn't so loyal. It was good that he had such strong will power, she knew she didn't have it.

"Her too." A slight smile carressed his lips which quickly went away as he continued. "The battle at Alten Corimont also. I found her there in war, maybe she will lose me in this one." Andarys looked at his left hand flexing it slightly remembering the wound that he had gotten there.

"Don't say that." Voneri kneeled infront of Andarys at eye level taking his left hand in her's and holding it. "We'll vanquish these rebels and then you can walk down the streets of Sentinel with her beside you. You were victorious at Alten Corimont and you will be here as well." She smiled at him to assure him, she only showed him her smiles leaving her soldiers to believe she was much harsher. It was in part to further the stereo type of Redoran warriors, even though she was just as much Dres if not more so than Redoran.



3E 397

Black Marsh (Argonia), East of Alten Corimont

The Dres army numbering around only five thousand had managed to push through the swamps through the late night. To their fronts stood a united army of twelve thousand argonians, and all guilty of the murder of Roris in the minds of the Dunmer. The conditions were as favorable to the Dres army as it could get. The marshland was in a relatively dry season leaving the option to use the Deshaan cavalry open somewhat. The marsh was also ideal for concentrating missile fire by the Dunmer archers against the lizards which would be needed to even out the numerical superiority of the defending force. Almalexia had given Andarys fifty High Ordinators, and three Ordinators for every one High Ordinator for him to command. They had been mostly pointless in the swamps, but now fighting the Argonians in open battle would mean they would get a chance to prove their zeal for their gods as they held the center of the line.

The line itself was made up of Dres skirmishers armed lightly in leather lammelar armor with large "catcher shields" designed to stop projectiles or even spears more so then other weaponry. As weapons they used javalins along with a forward hooking Dres sword known as a sica. They fought in loose formation and would prove deadly against the often unarmored argonians. Behind them stood a wall of bonemold clad spearmen, three ranks deep and would fight with their heavy bonemold spear and a mixture of moderate destruction and conjuration. They left gaps between their ranks so that the skirmishers could fall back, or so that the massive falx blade weilding Dres behind them could flood through and strike at the enemy. And yet further behind them stood the Dres infantry armed with a recurve bow, a sica and a back up weapon of their choice. On their backs they wore their shield which could act as a pavise when recieving fire or as protection in melee as well. They were armored in a mixture of netch and chitin lammelar renown like most Dunmer light armors, for its protection yet light weight providing mobility and speed. An assortment of conjuration experts were also present to break the enemy charge and reinforce weakened points in the line.

Lastly was the cavalry, mostly unused during the campaign, they like the Ordinators would prove their mettle in this marsh and all though for the most part a full charge would be impossible, they still had greater mobility then any infantry on the field. Only the Kataphracts were brought, armored from hoof to crown in heavy bonemold. They carried a lance with a back up weapon of choice. A shield was strapped across their bodies hanging off of their left side while a recurve bow was hung off the saddle along with a quiver of arrows. Andarys commanded the cavalry off the right wing as the left wing was more so unleveled and swampy.

Some five hundred meters away stood the Argonian army of twleve thousand. More then twice the number of Dunmer, many of which were drawn from all over Argonia to attack the Dres lands. They were mostly composed of spear users, some archers, shamen tribal warriors of varying armament. Their general, having a name no other then their ilk could pronounce, was simply known as "Flesh Glutton Dragon" from the rumors of the Imperial garrison in Black Marsh. Andarys did not know if it was true or not that he ate his captives nor would he wish to find out.

The mainline infantry commander broke his line of thought as he addressed the troops, something Andarys was known not to do as he was a fairly quiet but capable commander.

"It's surprising to see those animals were able to bark and hiss amongst themselves to pull together that mob of slaves into something that only an idiot could confuse with an actual army. These lizards are not even worthy of being our slaves. All of them murderers! We will teach these forsaken animals the weight of their crime commited upon our lands either as dead corpses on these marshses or wishing they were dead corpses while they work the mines in Vvardenfell!" A roar of approval washed across the ranks. The Dres were known as some of the most reserved of the Dunmer, but months of campianging through Argonia has caused them to shed some of their formalities in exchange for letting out some stress.

And so it begun. The argonian archers ran in range to shoot their arrows at the Dres skirmishers. Almost all of the arrows either missed or were caught in the light and large oval shields of the Dunmer. When they had seen that this had no affect, the Argonians inched closer and closer aiming to strike past the armored spear wall into the main infantry line. They quickly found this to be a mistake as the Dres bows replied in unison with a hail of arrows. The unarmored Argonian archers were torn to pieces attempting to trade missiles.

Andarys realized that the numerically superior argonians would have to be stalled for as long as possible before the main lines clashed with one another. He gave signal to the other three hundred Kataphracts to cut across from the ring wing, infront of the argonians. A half wedge formation was called, lances on the outside ranks drawn as many of the argonian archers were "shaved" off of the field. The inner ranks of the Kataphracts had their lances tied to their saddles and shot their arrows into the compact argonian ranks. The "dried" marsh still had almost ankle deep water slowing the horses somewhat, but as they neared the argonian right wing the water got a quite a bit deeper. The tall reeds were a danger for ambush which Andarys saw first hand. To his right, whole rider and horse suddenly dropped off into the water as it became deeper and deeper. An argonian spear formation sprang up striking at the Dunmer.

The Kataphract armor kept most of the riders and their horse safe but casualties were taken. Andarys quickly drew his sica cutting one of the argonians across the throat and another he smashed the end of the curved blade into the animal's skull. He quickly recalled the cavalry turning his own horse hard and wheeling about into a U turn while they all fired their bows into the ambushing party. His right hand went up to signal the Dres infantry on the left flank to come forward with their bows. They rushed inbetween the Falxmer and Dunmeri spearwall, past the skirmishers and quickly drew back an arrow and let them fly in alternation. The ambushing party that had struck was not chasing the bogged down cavalry. The flight of arrows saved them as they struck the argonians narrowly missing the Kataphracts.

Regardless the Argonian line cheered having "fought off the Dres general". They were soon quieted as the cavalry formation road back the way they had come toward the argonian left in loose formation while releasing both spell and arrow causing havoc amongst their ranks. The Argonians replied with a flight of their own arrows toward the cavalry, but most arrows simply bounced off or at best wedged themselves into the kataphract armor. Some were just unlucky, such as the rider just infront of Andarys who caught an arrow in the eye hole of his armor knocking him off his horse causing him to get trampled under.

To Andarys terror he saw that the Ordinators had broke formation and were now charging forward. He gave signal to the center Dres infantry to rush forward with their bows as he rode toward the Ordinators in a U formation to surround them. The archers were quick to attack any who would charge, and many did try and were slain.

"Fall back in rank!" Andarys growled at the 250 "blessed."Fall back or be slain!"

"The blessed Ordinators who carry the banner of God Queen and Mother Ayem can not lose in battle!" A voice replied to Andarys.

"This is non sense! We are outnumbered, unsupported you will be nothing but a waste to me. Fall back in rank!" He couldn't believe it, having to argue in the middle of an engagement. The Ordinators were renown warriors fighting the unholy enemies of the Tribunal but had little experience in actual rank and file soldiering.

"Blasphemy!" The High Ordinator shot back. But before he continued Andarys already frustrated continued.

"Mother Ayem is as much a healer as she is a warrior. So what I tell you, she should know, if she does not know then she is no god and you don't need to worry." His voice was calmer then before and Andarys went on. "In any case she has given you to me as servants and to go against my word is to go against her's. Now fall back in rank."

The Ordinators were silent and went back to hold the center of the line. The Dres Kataphracts under Andarys walked their horses slowly in loose formation closer to the argonians as they all aimed for the Argonian center. The tightly packed formation suffered heavy casualties and they soon spread their formation. This was exactly what Andarys was hoping for. He looked up to the sky taking a deep breath. Up above there seemed to be no battle. The sun and clouds were indifferent. The wind never studdered and kept blowing. Things were at peace. But as soon as he lowered his head to face the enemy all the noise and chaos came back to him.

"Charging formation." Andarys spoke loudly but did not yell. Riders beside him did the yelling as they echoed his orders throughout. A soft wedge formation was made, more of a bulge then a triangular tip with the first several ranks having their lances drawn. They turned their bodies at the waist so to hold the lance firmly in both hands while having the shoulder slung shield be placed forward. Behind them the other Kataphracts had their bows drawn and rode with the lance wielders while releasing arrows into the enemy center rank weakening it further. Normally a spear formation was deadly toward cavalry, but having been weakened so much they would stand little chance against the well armored Kataphracts. Toward the center of the formation a pole was held up with the head of a Wolf with a serpent body that howled in the wind the most terrible sound sending fear to the very heart of the enemy. A fear confirmed as the Kataphract lances met with flesh and bone torn asunder with a loud "crushing" sound.

Andarys was at the front of it all. He felt the vibration of the death he had caused as the lance smashed through the shoulder of an argonian, then through the throat of another and finally into the chest of the last sending all three to the ground. The lance was quickly dropped letting it hang from the saddle as their weapons were drawn. Arms were cleaved, throats cut, skulls smashed as the terrible sica weapon was swung with accuracy and skill. the Kataphracts not involved in the melee rode away while providing covering fire with their bows. The argonians were slow to react as their ranks were still shuddering from the impact. Groans of pain and suffering were heard all about and soon a counter attack.

Andarys rode out as fast as he could as did as many of the kataphracts capable. Several were pulled off their horses and slain on the spot, but the damage done was more then worth it, tactically speaking. Andarys could not help but feel sorry for those killed, but that was part of the charge. Many in the Argonian ranks ran after the Kataphracts. Andarys with others turned their bodies gracefully and released arrow after arrow in quick succession. The close range and unarmored bodies of the argonians meant that a full draw wasn't needed to be effective. Argonian arrows followed them as they gained distance but like before were largely ineffective. Many of the archers had been slain or simply ran away in terror adding onto the Dunmer's archer superiority.

Andarys rode toward the Dres right flank while ordering the Dres Infantry to rush forward with their bows. The skirmishers stood amongst the Dres Infantry as they used their bows. The spear formation marched forwad keeping formation while the falxmer kept behind the spears. As Andarys neared the right flank of the Dunmer army he gave out orders for how to react. "Spearmer move toward the center enemy line when pushed. This will draw in their left wing to flank you. Hold steady and the Falxmer will in turn attack their left flank." After the words were spoken the cavalry stood infront of the Dunmer right flank awaiting what will be the eventual push by one or both of the sides.

Dawnstar
"Do you take me for a fool?" Thassad is dead, burned into a shriveled blackened corpse. I trust you do not speak on behalf of a corpse?" The Imperial politician spoke in a low, seemingly unconcerned voice before he sipped at his mead. His eyes remained locked on the two men however, observing them, trying to bore into their heads. "Both taxes and military conscription are a rather naiive reason for war. I would hope that the ambassadors from Hammerfell understand the nature of a government. If you believe that kingdom under sentinel won't do both, than I might as well be discussing this with a child. You will also know that your culture, if you've ever read any Imperial doctrine, is considered sacred. We allow your people to worship their silly gods, keep their language and keep their own army. In return for this we are repaid in revolt and anarchy? All those times that Imperial soldiers patrolled your roads, protected your cities and enforced your borders is ignored I suppose..." Abmassador Ancaria said, his voice full of a dull anger. The Breton and Dunmer shifted uncomfortably in their seats. It was Ambassador Ravel, the grey skinned ashen voiced dunmer who tried to smooth over Ancaria's anger.

"What I believe my colleague means is that we should discuss a prisoner exchange first. We have several of your officers, as well as a few hundred deserters, and a little under a thousand suspected partisans arrested behind the front lines. Amongst them, we have an Admiral Donovan of the Makeway, who we're sure you'd like." The dunmer's voice grated in the cold air as he spoke. Unlike his more hot headed companion, he betrayed little emotion.

Breton camp around Dragongrove
"HJALTI!" A single voice rose up through the bamboo.

"HJALTI!" Hundreds of shouts pierced the air in reply before the whole extended line of skirmishers broke from the cover of the forest and into the firelight. Pikes, cutlasses, axes, and crossbows glittered red and yellow, sparkling hatred in the night air. They shouted their ships name as a battlecry, in unison at first but then breaking down into a chorus of screams and shouts.

"God damnit..." Lieutenant LaRouche cursed under his breath, and shook his head. This is what he had feared. The Sailors and marines were brutal in close combat, fighting like street thugs and gutter rats, but they lacked the discipline of the legion. At sea, they merely had to wait until their ship closed with another before attacking...They didn't have the patience to wait for orders.

So now, without orders, they swarmed in, thirsty for blood.

Imperial Legion baggage wagon
Septimus had just sat down to start writing when the breton rider came galloping up, asking for the commander. There was an audible grunt as he hoisted is thin body and rusted armor off of the cracker box that was his desk.

"I'm Knight Commander Septimus Aquila...what is it?"

Dawnstar

Enitan continued chewing, his dull eyes watching the imposing Councilor further apply direct pressure to the issue. This man was a tough one.

Thankfully the Dunmer came in to both the Ra Gada's aid, and his friend. This whole summit would prove useless if none had tact.

Nodding at the request to begin negotiating, Enitan started off.

"Councilor Ancaira, allow me to remind you that it was Thassad who had originally led our Kingdom in the beginning of the war. And while I admire the present knowledge you have of our leadership, King Haroun was still a Prince during the start of the war. So no, I do not take you for a fool." he took a moment to chew, his rough accent making his careful choice of words sound diluted.

The Councilor insulted their culture, leaders, and people. The Imperial still believed himself superior. Removing a paper from his robe, the Redguard Councilor continued. With strained eyes he tried to read off of the paper.

"It would seem we're in control of six hundred and thirty three sailors and marines, along with an Admiral Marcus, and a Captain Fernand, all Navy. Along with a Commander Vestius, and five hundred men who call themselves Templar. Out of the legions, only 33 men, all wounded, but taken care of. Lord Aleksey Romonov, Commander of the Wayrest Seekers, and one Prince Leopold Plantagenet, son of Queen Elysana of Wayrest." the last captive was their ace in the hole. A Prince to the Queen of Wayrest, and sibling of a member of the Elder Council, it would hold a lot of weight.

With some finesse and a bit of persuasion, they could make some moves to complicate matters enough to bring doubt into the Council's hearts, and get Wayrest out of Hammerfell.

Hell, Wayrest could begin starting its own political pressure to get one of its last Princes back, it had suffered one Crown Prince's death in this war, no need for another.

ooc: Used some of the units and characters of people we have molly wopped, so instead of saying their dead, I let a few get away. Hope it doesn't grind any gears GD

Dawnstar
The Emissary

Qusay sank deep into his chair and pulled a sheepskin hanging off a nearby chair to wrap around himself. Damn bastard. To insult Raga honour! I mislike him after five minutes. No matter... He is like iron. Strong until the last, but brittle and breakable. The other ones are quieter... The slant-eyed, ash-skinned satak wouldn't stick up for us if he didn't have an ulterior motive. Watch him. & the Breton ain't said nothing. Those men are the steel... strong but flexible and pretty (with words) too.

The younger Raga fumed silently, trying to drain his face from expression without betraying his anger. Nothing hurt Qusay like an attack on Raga pride. It was his only weakness, more or less.

Vulnim Gate:Outside barricade
"Ree'ja." Hukral spoke softly into the night air, his voice at indoor level for the average man and whispering for him. The Nord turned his head to look at the Khajiit, his loose hair shifting about in dirtied clumps.

The Khajiit lifted himself onto his elbows from his laying down on the ground, and looked up at the massive man. "Yes?"

"Do you think we made the right choice?" Hukral asked, genuine concern on his face. Ree'Ja raised one eyebrow, growling softly.

"Which choice? This one knows we made many choices..."

"About this war. Should we have not gotten involved? Would it have saved Chris?"

Ree'Ja sighed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, ears back. "This one thinks Wickrun has point. War affects all people, near and far." The Khajiit replied, looking up to Hukral. "With time, war would affect us, and one of us would die. War brings death. It is sad, yes, that Chris is dead. But Ree'Ja knows it was fated to happen. We all die, one day. This is the way of life under the moons." Ree'Ja gave out a more relaxed sigh as he leaned back on the ground again, closing his eyes.

"This one thinks Hukral think too much. Warriors do not think of their opponents; it is the only way to do their job. Or their comrades. A warrior mourns, as do we all, but in the end, Ree'Ja continues forward like a true warrior, and does not dwell in past mistakes."
------------------------
Vulnim Gate
Wikrun sat outside his tent, legs folded and a book resting in his lap. He read by the firefly glow of the crystal orb of his cane, which rested on his chest delicately. He seemed very absorbed in his reading, but acknowledged Marsha's approach with a fleeting glance up before looking back down.

"Still anolyzing that stuff, huh?" Marsha asked as she sat down beside him. She'd left her naginata in her tent for the night, so leaned on one arm to read over Wikrun's shoulder. "How can you even read that? Looks like scribble to me."

"It's not written in common Tamrielic or Cyrodiilic." Wikrun replied, eyes still glued to the pages. "It's old Aldmeris, a language known typically only to mer folk, and mostly the aristocratic or scholarly. Tamrielic and Cyrodiilic draw roots from it, but they are not the same." He brought one hand to his chin, rubbing it.

"What exactly are you trying to read again?" Marsha inquired, having given up on reading it and now resting her arms on her legs. One hand twirled her beaded hair around her wrist, the beads clinking as she did, along with the clinks of her bracelets.

"It's Divayth Fyr's notes on Alterative magic, more particularly on Alteration of living masses. He gave me a copy of them when I inquired as to his research for the purposes of my own studies."

"I thought Fyr was one of them reclusive sorts, didn't like folks much." Marsha furrowed her brow. Wikrun looked up from his book with a grin that actually made him look good.

"I happened to befriend one of his daughters in my youth, and my father was an old acquaintance. So he'd taken a marginal liking to me." Wikrun shut the book after marking a page with a leather strip, and set it down in his tent before turning back to Marsha, folding his hands. "I presume you didn't come over here for idle chit-chat? You usually don't."

Marsha cracked a wide grin, giggling. "Unusual can be fun, though. So maybe I did." She retorted mockingly, then lifted her head up proudly. "Marietta's going to train me in battlemage magic, so I can get better."

"I was under the impression you were rather skilled already." Wikrun complimented, but Marsha waved it off.

"For a Redguard, sure, but even I know I have the finesse of a drunkard and the self-control of an ogre when it comes to my spell work. I'm about as wasteful as they come. But Marietta's going to help me control all that." Marsha seemed rather happy about this, though Wikrun felt she was hiding something under that smile, good or bad. Both of them fell silent.
----------------------
Imperial Wagon Train
Jassan hoisted the small box in his hand, lifting it to his shoulder. One eyebrow rose in disbelief at the weight and size of the parcel, but he shrugged it off. Obviously military meals were small, so they could manage to carry them. But if he reduced himself to eating just a ratio of this stuff, Jas would likely end up more emaciated than his new Nordic charge.

Jassan walked up casually to the 'headquarters' Aquila had set up, stopping when he saw the Breton rider. "hmm..." Walking up to Aquila's desk, he set the box down like a servant would, bowing. "Commander Aquila, I brought you your meal. I hope I have not interrupted anything, sir?" He spoke the words as smoothly and calmly as he could, trying to give the impression he was merely another soldier, and not the blessed-rescuer-gone-bodyguard-by-force of the Nordic 'commander'. His other aim was to provide a display of loyalty and authority about Aquila, so as to dispel any doubt the Breton rider may have.

IC:
Recent commercials have forced me to write this whole scene to http://www.myspace.com/devotchkamusic
Jewels of the Crown

Malik's horse pounded the earth furiously, its hooves thundering down the road and valley. The enemy had sent flames into the sky, a possible sign to others...

It would be a fight against time.

The others thundered in behind him, all placing their war masks on, he did the same.

A comrade in arms, his brother, Jaegar rode beside him...the two warriors looked to each other and nodded.

This could very well be there last battle.

~

The King


Haroun held a crunched piece of paper in his hand, a drawn sword in the other. He stared at the moon and sky in solemn tranquility. A quiet night, and a full moon, it was beautiful.

"The Moon stares down at the accumulated savagery of man in disgust. We are afflicted, the men and the times...." his voice trailed off.

~

Saladin's Army

The soberness of battle being near had caused the men to get serious, and fall out of their glory drunk state. Mogaba loaded his halberd into his horse's saddle. Tightened the reins, and adjusted his sword belt. Looking to the other Knights of the Scarab, he smiled sadly seeing that they had all done the same. The Scarabs could all be wiped out in this damned war, but it was their decision to fight...

He'd have it no other way.

Meanwhile, a Captain Kizaam crouched towards the earth, puffing his pipe looking atop the bamboo stalks, and into the starry sky. His thoughts drifted to his boy, Asad, and his sister Kira. All the soldiers took extra moments to think of the things that mattered in life, and Kizaam never once said goodbye to his son.

They were leaving the Sentinel governance, entering other principalities, and the territory that was in a state far worse then theirs.

The Demons, the spirits, and the enemy army...odds stacked against the men who fought for home, and for their freedom.

Kizaam stood, nodded to a few of his men who were in their own moments of solitude.

~

The Gods of War

Raza's shehai halved foes, de-limbed, and sliced with extreme prejudice and fervor. The corner of his eye had caught a blue light, and the sounds of crackling energy had warned him against the devil trickery impeding towards him. He attempted to leap in the air, but his feet were swallowed into the ground.

With frustration and widened eyes beneath his war mask, he accepted whatever was coming to him. His Shehai continued moving as he closed his eyes and the spell worked near.

~
The King

"With each day we work closer towards our destruction...slavery, war, and [censored]....man has found other mediums to focus his hate...murder is no longer the worst of sins....the blood on our hands shall be washed, only to flood another....there is no end...there will only be war, a war so inevitable even men of insurmountable power could not prevent it."

The HoonDing stalked from the shadows, its glowing eyes staring at the King in silence. Haroun turned and looked to the God, who shied away back into darkness and obscurity.

~
The Jewels of the Crown

72 swords were drawn, the sounds of the sheaths mixed with the hooves livened the night's silence. And with blood curdling screams, the Swordsingers began shouting like banshees. The hair hanging off of their masks adding to the lore of bearded devils in Ra Gada culture, all masks depicted horrible emotions and expressions, likewise the faces underneath those masks held similar expressions.

Malik drew his blade, shrieking to the top of his lungs, may his foe hear him before his sent to the sixteen hells.

OOC: Bah, you just enjoy watching me fail.
IC:
Sunbird

Mercury got the gender wrong, but she was hardly surprised. Given as little information as she had been (she mentally cursed Serosi once more, she was finding it really hard not to pass judgement on the dunmer and just hate him for his 'mysterious' ways). Still, her altmer facade had apparently been believable in spite of the circumstances- something which she prided herself on.

Still, she had to keep things up, and react realistically. This time, it would not be appropriate to sieze on the option handed her: to accept that she was a skooma junkie would make her character seem suspicious- afterall, the bosmer had meant it insultingly. Thus, the altmer replied, somewhat affronted, "I'm no junkie, thanks very much. It's hardly my fault that I'm given little or no information." And, with that complaint hanging in the air, he followed the bosmer grumpily- regardless of whether or not they were believed, he'd probably take them to the captain so long as they didn't pose an immediate threat, and indeed, that seemed to be the case. Thus, Mercury bided her time, cursing that she had to keep the illusion spell on for so long. Being under maintained spells always made her nose itch something horrible.

Manfred

Tension hung heavy in the air, bearing down on Manfred. This was nothing like the war back home - the brutal but frequently open-field battles between the Duchies, where somehow, your heart rested easy, for indeed, it is easy to become comfortable with a known enemy, who is so similar to you in so many ways. Here, the war was different - it was real war, not some nearly annual battle over a piece of land on the other side of the river. Then, perhaps the way I feel could be blamed upon my own inability to change anything. Lord Flyte sighed. Everyone was apparently preparing to leave; however, Saladin was nowhere to be seen. Wilfred was with the men, readying them for the journey, so Manfred was without any companion.

The thought of his men made the Flyte Lord feel guilty. Most of those men had families, homes - when he was in command of but a small band of men, the feeling of responsibility only seemed to grow. He knew for sure that Wilfred was engaged; his wedding was pushed back due to the campaign. The feeling of guilt grew further; in Manfred's mind, the image of a young lady surfaced, dressed in an exquisite wedding dress of latest Bretic fashion. He had heard Wilfred talk of his future wife on many occasions, and it seemed that the young noble did indeed love her - rather unusual, considering most weddings between nobles were simply for the dowry or political gain. Just like his own wedding. However, looking back to it Manfred was very glad he had married Joan. She had the mindset of a politician, perhaps not like Elysana, but unusual considering that most Bretic women from the court were spoiled brats with no trace of intelligence.

Realization gripped Manfred's heart - he missed Joan. He missed his son... Hopefully, Mara would protect him in this war so that he would not miss his son's youth in captivity... Or worse yet, dead.

OOC: Serosi had no way of knowing either

IC:

"No information? What's your job around here feeding the goblins?" The Bosmer laughed to himself before the door as his hand reached for the side of the wall to shift the large Almderi inscripted stone. Before it was able to do so Serosi's hand grasped him by the wrist turning him around. The Bosmer's attempt to protest was met with a silencing spell and Serosi's mystic eyes which were the only thing that could be seen. It was as if firey mist splashed him in the eyes robbing him of his mind. His head turned facing Mercury with his enchanted eyes. With them activated they acted like a powerful detect life spell along with a dispell against certain other spells.

"When we go in secure the captain. Adapt." And those were his only words as the cold figure turned away, the Bosmer under his command placing his palm against the wall shifting the stone door. They were left of the raised up platform of the captain with the seat hung above it. All around navigators and a few guards stood, some turned to face them most did not.

Inel turned to her left to face the group confused. She looked toward the Bosmer she recognized and then towards the others she did not. Michelle offered her a nervous smile which for a moment put her at ease but she quickly continued with the question at the top of her tongue. "What is this?" She asked in a rather soft but firm tone. The Bosmer stood there like a statue only further confusing Inel who now stood up. The soft robe around her body allowed the flow of her spell casting to be most efficient.

OOC: Definately like to see me fail.
IC:

Sunbird

When Serosi turned around, Mercury gazed at his eyes in surprise- and great interest. You smelled of ash and vampires... she remembered. You knew of their ways... Had something been done to Serosi by them, as Cassandra had her? Or was there something else? Something different about Serosi. The initial intrigue she had felt about him upon their first meeting surfaced again. He was a curiosity. An intellectual interest.

... But then he acted like a jerk again. "When we go in secure the captain. Adapt," he commanded her, as if she were his slave. Mercury struggled against her own rebellion. A wild animal did not like to be tamed, but she would try.

The situation here was impossible. If she took a step forwards, she'd be restrained by spell. They didn't know who she was, since Serosi hadn't allowed her to get a decent disguise. Spell-casting could only take you so far with lies, even if you were as profficient as she was.

No explanation she could give would be accepted. As far as Inel would be concerned, she was just as much untrustworthy as any of the others, despite her golden skin.

Which meant she had to act quick. I hope you're all ready to defend yourselves... Mercury thought. Because I'm fresh out of options.

The altmer gave a hesitant smile to Inel, inclining his head somewhat apologetically. "Terribly sorry about this, ma'am..." he said, lowering his eyes. "I'm new here, and there were these prisoners..." As he spoke, he moved in slowly, eyes still lowered as behind the scenes Mercury fit together the pieces of the spells she would cast. She had to do this quick: that meant she had to be prepared: now.

The altmer continued to apologise, giving a long-winded explanation of how he'd found them amongst the crates and boxes, and thought the protocol was to take them to the captain. It didn't fit with the story he'd told the bosmer, but it didn't have to- the bosmer was clearly down and out, however alive he might be. And as long as he stood there, lending a recognisable and certifiable attribute of truth to his words, he would not be attacked.

Sadly, that wasn't going to mean there as no action. She'd been backed into a corner: and now was the end of her tether.

She released the spell illusioning her as an altmer sailor, and as the spell unravelled she absorbed what she could of the residual magicka and used it to fling a weak but very sudden silencing spell at Inel. In the ensuing confusion, she used her other reserves to turn herself invisible and fling herself up to the Captain's level with what could only be described as inhuman power, grabbing the captain around the waist and dragging a dagger up to her neck, even as as Inel tried to kick her off, but the werefox had moved too quick. A well-aimed or lucky fireball had hit her leg as she leaped, and she'd yelped in pain of it, but without silver it was already beginning to heal.

The invisibility spell blinking off of her as if it had never been, Mercury leaned Inel back against her, dagger lightly pricking her neck as the other crewmembers looked on in horror, spells half-spoken on their lips, unsure what to do.

But Mercury didn't have eyes for them. Panting heavily, she fixed feral silver-blue eyes on Serosi. She had never been so close to losing control of the animal within her as she was now. "I hope this is alright," she spat, baring her teeth in a most bestial way. "Because I don't have a bloody clue."

OOC. I'll take care of the battle after a I get a answer from Story for something I asked earlier. For now, its just the messenger.

IC. Pulling his attention away from the legionaires, the messenger quickly jogged the few feet over to the frail looking man that addressed him. What he saw caught him by surprise, but he quickly managed a small smile as he removed his helmet and gave a polite bow. " Sir, I'm sorry to interupt so I will do this as quickly as possible. I bring reports from the Glenpoint camp that is camped about four miles south behind your current position.

Taking a moment to clear his throat and to place his nasal helm into the cradle of his arm, he continued on trying not to stare at the sickly looking Nord. If he was the commander, the legions must be in a sorry state. His armor was rusted, he was using a cracker box as a desk, and his face looked to have been run through a meat grinder.

" As you may have known already, Lord Montrose has yet to return and we have recieved no word from him either. Due to this, Captain Gaston has now been given complete control over our forces, and he is the reason I am here now. Having recieved no word from the legions in a while, he was worried we were being left out of the loop. We are ready to do our part in helping crush the rebellion, but we must have reports and plans so we may ready our troops. That is mostly it, Sir. He would like to hear from you as soon as possible. "

Having said all that he could remember, but sure that he had left something out, the messenger waited in silence for the Knight Commanders reply.

Serosi considered his options of attack if Mercury would be slow to adapt. She seemed reclusive but with strong potential. A great motivator in manipulating another is making the dire consequences suffered to match between the one who controller and the controled. There was no spell needed. All that was needed was something to fall back on. He was slightly disapointed he did not get to see how the shimshar he had taken from sentinel handled. But like clock work Mercury reacted and in the most efficient way possible. It was good that the fighting would be stopped so suddenly. He doubted that the gauntlet would work more then a couple of times and they ran the danger in damaging the ship causing it to crash. Michelle looked fearful hugging her book still curling her fingers tightly around the edges while her toes nervously gripped at the floor under her.

Inel's brother, Armion was simply shocked at the speed of the little woman. Before he could draw his blade half way his sister was already a hostage to the dagger of the would be assassin. Inel tried her best not to move, afraid to even breath as she felt the tip of the dagger to her throat. Even without the silence spell she was speechless. The guards, the crew and negivators, all except the mind melted Bosmer stared at Inel and her captor. Noises of surprise and anger shot out and weapons were drawn though none dared to take a step forward.

"Leave your weapons and go..." Serosi's voice caused the others to quickly turn their attention away. Not long before the comment was made one of the guards protested. Before the second word was completed an armor clad Elven Knight was struck in the mouth with one of Serosi's throwing daggers striking him inside of his neck. He dropped to his knees gargaling his own blood while kicking furiously as his fear filled eyes teared up. "...and take the corpse with you."

A clang of elvish metal clanged against the floor as they ran toward the exist. Armion's eyes looked fearful and pained yet angry at Mercury before he turned away and began walking toward the exist. As he neared Serosi a firm hand shoved the Altmer back. A look of anger and confusion from Armion was the only thing to shove back.

"You have... Anrel's scent." The Dunmer's gaze lowered. "Why?" A dark fury was boiling inside of him as his thoughts simmered in the past.

"What? How do you know her?" Armion clenched his fists taking a step forward. He was much more armored then Serosi with a full claymore upon his back, a sheethed longsword by his side, full elven armor and a shield tied to his left shoulder. He was a true shining example of a Dominion Battlemage.

"Don't make me repeat myself!" Serosi yelled, the first sign of emotion that seemed somewhat mortal, almost were it not for the visibly extended vampiric teeth. One with an extreme keen sense may have even thought for a moment that he sounded hurt. The Dunmer was also armed although much more covertly.

"She's...my to be." Armion only replied thinking of the well being of his sister. His eyes were lowered matching the tone of his quiet voice. His eyes shot up in surprise at the next comment.

"I killed her." Serosi no longer sounded hurt but even more viciously cold then before. "Twice." The last word acted as heart piercing punctuation. Even though he hated Anrel for the betrayel he suffered because of her the thought of her with anyone else infuriated him. The attachment of parent, sibling, friend and lover were all one person in her to him. He reacted the only way he could anymore and tormented Armion with the knowledge of his deed.

"Liar!!!" Armion's thrusted fist exploded into fire sending a powerful spell toward Serosi. Inel quickly tensed up and struggled to get free unwillfully in reaction to try to protect her brother then anything else. Serosi raised his hands upward, palm down extending from his spine as magicka was shifted upward in his body. A mixture of absorb and reflect was put in balance while telekenisis was used in conjunction with the turnining of his body to fling the spell back with force threefold. It was a gamble but the Stars of the Atronach protected Armion as the engourged fire spell was absorbed. Another step was taken forward by Armion sending a burst of lighting hissing and chirping across the room but it would never reach Serosi as he drew a dagger and skillfully magnitized it with his own lightning spell. It was thrown at the ground between the two fighting and Armion's lighting was drawn into it.

A yelp was heard as Michelle's 'shoelessness' rendered her much more so unprotected then the others sending her to the floor.

The Dominion Battlemage seeing he had no control over his emotion was angered further by the fact he was outmatched in spell casting as well. Instead he charged forward, shield raised and long sword drawn high. Serosi took two quick steps forward after casting a recall spell and then swung out the steel sphere end downward of his chain sickle. The chain itself hit the shield as Armion raised it causing the steel sphere to swing with great speed. A burdening alteration spell was cast for a second on the weapon causing Armion's cuirass crack in the back and causing him to stagger forward.

The groan of pain turned into a growl as he swung the blade missing Serosi as he stepped back. He pulled on the weight with his chain into an underswing striking Armion under the jaw in a whipping motion. The tension in the chain was released and then swung downward, one circle to gain momentum and a second for the strike hitting the Altmer in the wrist breaking it and removing the weapon from his hand. The weight continued into another circle, Serosi tugging it as it reached 45 degrees. It missed Armion, a mistakened relief, it was on purpose. The chain hit the bottom of Serosi's foot as his right leg was bent, knee outward. As it did so Serosi kicked at the chain and pulled adding tension and re routing the momentum coupling another burden alteration spell. It would be as if a battering ram struck Armion in the chest shattering his briast plate and sending him back. In that same moment Serosi cast the recall spell appearing back to back with Armion. He crouched down and stood up quickly with a powerful stance causing his enemy to flip mid air and land on his back with a hard thud.

Inel watched in terror speechless as Serosi walked over above her fallen brother. He drew the curved shamshir blade while placing his heel on Armion's forehead. He was coughing up blood, dazed and almost unaware of his seemingly doomed fate. With his head pinned against the floor he looked up at Serosi's fierce eyes as the shamshir was raised for a downward thurst.

"SSSTTOOOOOOPPP!!!!" Inel shrieked tense in Mercury's grasp. Everything seemed to freeze in place as her voice echoed through and through. "I'll kill myself if you don't..." Tears ran down her face as she tried to catch her breath. "...and you'll get nothing." She hated herself, she was never there for her little brother and he was being killed right before her eyes and she could do nothing but threaten to end her life with his.

Sunbird

Mercury watched, shaking with anger as Serosi killed a dominion battlemage for no reason. That's no way to make a point, you bastard! she shrieked mentally, even as physically she began to lose more and more control.

As Inel's brother and Serosi began to exchange blows, Mercury grew more and more rebellious to Serosi's cause. She would take no further part in this: it wasn't war. It wasn't even espionage. It was one stupid, powerful man taking vengeance on the universe for what it had done to them.

"Save your own life. I can't condone this mindless idiocy," she looked at Serosi, fire burning there. "I've chosen my side." As the wound on her leg sealed completely, Mercury released Inel, pushing her away even as she turned and leapt to safety at the other side of the room, landing on all fours like a beast, and crouching there, eyes wild with anger.

By all accounts, she had chosen the losing side in this particular battle, but Mercury could not and would not side with such a monster, even if it meant her death. It was why she had left Cassandra. Why she refused to side with such unfeeling, uncaring monsters, even if she was one herself. She turned her gaze to Swims, and there was apology in her eyes. Serosi clearly hadn't cared about the Argonian, and now Mercury had betrayed him.

Am I choosing the Dominion? Mercury wondered. Or am I simply choosing this fight? She wasn't sure. But her instincts said that Serosi was wrong, and she refused to side with him any longer.

OOC. I have Storys permission to control Raza. I'll also respond to the marines soon. Just can't now


IC. As she watched the eletrical bolt dance through the velvet night, crackling as it went along on its destructive path, a notible cringe could be seen. For someone who had spent countless hours in her youth learning to fence and weave destructive spells, she had little heart for it. Infact, she hated it. She hated to hurt anyone, enemy or not, and everytime she was forced to do so, she felt like her heart would break a little more. I'm so sorry...

The eletrical bolt hit Raza straight in the stomach like a charging bull, blasting him to the ground and knocking the very air from his lungs. He layed there for a moment in a daze, fighting his hardest to regain control of his muscles which were now twitching from the thousands of eletrical impulses coursing through his battered body. The smell of burnt flesh assaulted his nostrils and the severe pain in his stomach was almost to much to bare. Running his fingers across his stomach, he felt the wound, an open hole about the size of his fist with tendrils of smoke still curling up into the cool darkness.

The bolt had seemed to pack an incredible amount of power, having had ripped through Raza to slam into a ghost behind him before loosing power. It would be the only one for a while though it would seem, with Priscilla having used up nearly all her magika between the flare and the eletrical bolt. With a single tear running down her porcelain cheeks, the lone spellsword turned and walked away.

With a smile, Ra'Kava released his grip on the sand and grasped both scimitars, dashing off to the next fight believing Raza to counted among the dead.