The connecting block was awkward, but Jalin flowed with it smoothly, his arm and body twisting to better hold the sword's vertical position as it slid along the attacking scimitar edge. When both blades had been freed, Jalin's back was to his opponent, sword held vertically behind him. The Hurak -no longer having a force for his blade to go against- stumbled forward but showed amazing skill in flowing with the stumble, bringing his foot up and around to right himself and face his opponent with quick ease.

Jalin showed no surprise or admiration of the move, instead releasing his grip on the broadsword and moving his hand down to grasp the handle of his bastard sword. The Hurak didn't hesitate to launch an attack again, sweeping his scimitar through the air at his chest. Jalin bent his legs and crouched, pulling the bastard sword from his right shoulder as he did so. The broadsword passed over him and Jalin bolted forward, twisted his torso left as he brought his left arm up, sweeping the bastard sword out of the sling that held it and up.

Right into the gut of the Hurak, whose sword was too far to one side to block in time. The blade sliced in, halving the stomach and liver as it made its way to his ribcage, where it stopped. The battle between them had lasted less than thirty seconds.

Organs, blood, and digestive fluid spilled to the floor, dirtying Jalin's boots. The Hurak choked on his own blood, before Jalin twisted the blade and withdrew it, causing him to collapse to the floor. Only then did the Ansei look around.

The entire room was covered in blood to some degree, be it light and thin or heavily splattered. Furniture had been trashed about, though how much of any of this current decor was Jalin's fault was debatable. Jalin moved to the only body not looking like a Hurak corpse, setting the tip of his bastard sword on the floor as he looked at it.

It was man. He looked even in death to be strong-willed and determined, a dagger clutched in forever closed fingers. He had fought to the death, as any warrior should. There was no doubt in his mind, this was Savard. Sheathing the Bastard sword on his back he bent down, and closed the man's eyes, and shut his jaw.

"May Tall Papa bless you for your deeds." There were few he gave this death-prayer to.

Jalin rose, moved to his broadsword, and picked it up, keeping it unsheathed. Stepping solemnly from the room over the wreckage of the door, he looked at the destruction outside and made his announcement with a stern face. "Savard is dead."

"I'm not going to die..." Lorenna murmured her voice even quieter than usual, though she put the same fire into it she put into everything she did. "Tell the healer... sword wound to the side, clean entry... deep, staunched, uninfected. Axe wound to... the shoulder, forced... bleeding profusely. Axe wound is... um... priority." Lore did not have high hopes for her wounds: she'd need the blood flow staunched quickly, or she'd die of drainage before any healing could be done. The damage done by the axe was pretty severe, and her magical electrocution spell had sapped the rest of her strength, so she would be unable to assist in the healing, and her body would be more unresponsive than usual, although, being an altmer, at the very least the healing would be easier to administer. She could only hope for an extremely good healer, but such luck seemed unlikely in such times.

She reached up, though it took her immense effort, and stroked Burd's cheek, smiling as best as she could. She didn't want him to worry."Going to sleep now. Preserve strength." She closed her eyes and let unconsciousness take her.

ooc: Aw, way to take off without me, guys.

Kidding, it's not like any of my people save for Fedura knows about it and she's the least likely of the three to help out.

ic: Karst nodded and pulled out a bag of flour, grabbed a mixing bowl and a a pitcher of water and began cracking eggs into the bowl while simultaneously keeping an eye on the eggs she was cooking for the omelettes. One great thing about being a mother was it taught Karst how to multitask expertly. There had been times back when Ra'Veldas was smaller that she'd had to prepare several different foods for the both of them while keeping the small boy entertained enough not to scream or break things. Of course, when they'd visited, Zant, Veyar and Odeen all helped out, but for the most part, Karst was a single mother and had to manage on her own.

As Zant ate, he watched Karst flitting busily about the kitchen and chuckled. "You know Iris, I think cooking is a good distraction for her. Maybe we should make her do it more often." he commented, then chuckled, "As efficiently as she works, she must make a wonderful housewife."

"I can hear you, you ass. I am not a housewife!" Karst protested in the middle of her work, not pausing to look at him. She instead occupied herself with alternating mixing the pancake batter and cutting up little pieces of cheese for the omelettes.

"I know, but it's my moral duty as your older brother to give you crap." he replied over his shoulder and heard a laugh in response from Karst. Turning back to Iris, he popped another bite of food in his mouth, chewed and swallowed, then smiled. "You've got to teach me how to cook like this someday. This is excellent, love. Thank you."
_______
Fedura had to restrain herself from salivating at the sight of the fruit. Her gut rumbled in anticipation of being filled and the assassin smiled. She took and apple, bit into it and sighed as she chewed. "Mmf. Thish id some good damn fruit." she said with her mouth full. The Dunmer went through two apples this way in her ravenous hunger, her gauntlets covered in apple juices when she was done.

Grabbing an orange, she bit into it and spat out the skin and was peeling it when everyone started to freak out. When the rest of them were gone, Fedura giggled girlishly and belched rudely. Carrying the fruit bowl over to the Hurak, she sat down a bit in front of him.

"You sure know how to clear a room, babe." she commented idly as if nothing important was going on at all, then grabbed an apple and held it out to him while she peeled the orange with her teeth. "Hungry?"

OOC: Well, didn't take long for the fecal matter to impact the mechanical cooling unit... :flamethrower:

IC:

Although Ella's words cheered him up a bit, there was still worry lurking in the back of his mind. He had always used his skills in order to further his own gains. He never had to worry about letting down hundreds of other people, who would be counting on him. Li'Yen was not at all sure he could succeed in whatever mission he might be given, under that kind of intense pressure.

However, he did not let his doubts show. He smiled at Ella, then continued shovelling food into his mouth.

"You are right, yes, no reason for worrying. We have always adapted to new lives before, we shall do it again here. Thank you for kind words."

He finished off his plate of food in quick succession, and leaned back, sighing in satisfaction. Although some of his more serious wounds from the previous battles still ached from the cold, he felt better than he had in longer than he could remember. And despite the uncertainty of his future in Mountainholm, a small spark of optimism found it's way into his thoughts.

Perhaps all is not as troublesome as it seems...

"And she won't be joining him." Jalin added to his last statement about Savard, moving over to Burd and Lore. He knelt down, sheathing his broadsword before holding out a hand to Burd. "Your shirt, now." He instructed, voice stern.

Here, it wasn't likely a healer would be coming to them. So, Lore would have to settle for the old fashioned healing, the kind a person of the deserts who didn't believe in magic lived by. "I'm going to wrap up her wounds and carry her to the healers." He explained.

Just because he lived by the code of War did not mean others had to; this much Jalin recognized. She may have gotten a wound in battle, but she was not a warrior in the same sense that Jalin was, and therefor thought under different teachings. For her, dying would not likely be considered honorable.
---------------
Iris laughed, watching Karst work. "Whether you are a housewife or not, what you are doing is amazing and something I admire. It's also rather cute." Iris remarked, before turning back to Zant.

"It's a females touch, Zant, that's all. But you could cook a mean roast if you wanted to. Men do make good roasts. Women just make good food."

OOC: ...

IC: Just as Juliek had been about to answer, people started rushing past. Not wanting anyone else to eavesdrop on their conversation, he closed his mouth again and waited. Only when Jalin ran past, speeding as if all the horrors of Vaermina's realm were behind him... or before him, given his love for combat, Juliek and Arybeth looked at each other as if the other one could know what was going on. When they realized that was not so, they followed the general direction at a brisk pace, though not running.

As they reached the administrative building, they could hear sounds of fighting inside, but upon entering they could see it had already ended.

The people standing aroud Lore drew Juliek's attention to her, and he rushed overto see if he could help. He was by no means a good healer, but his birthsign allowed him to use great amounts of magicka. Pushing aside Jalin, he simply put his hand on her stomach and began to pour healing magicka into her. For him, the strain of draining his reserves dry was not as great as for most mages, and he had little experience gauging how much magicka he'd spent. To futher complicate his problem, he had never treated an injury this bad, so he was nervous, and the time compressed to him until minutes seemed like seconds.

So, he suddenly found himself unable to magically light a candle. As he stepped back, he shivered slightly, sweat on his forehead.

"Stupid. Stupid! What if there are more Hurak around? You can't defend yourself!" Juliek felt very vulnerable now.

Arybeth concentrated on the patch of floor she was standing on, as it was one without a bloodstain. She didn't want to think about what was happening now.

OOC: Oh aye, something hitting the fan was what was always going to happen when the Shaman woke up. Heh, you should've seen how much I argued with myself whether or not to kill Savard...

IC: Burd couldn't watch while people started crowding around Lore, doing their things to her. He didn't want to watch, partly because he feared the worst and partly because he knew there was nothing he could do to help.

Hell, he didn't know why he was reacting so bad to this. She had kissed him but that wasn't it, he hadn't felt this strongly then, no. He still felt as if she was under his protection, and it was his fault she had been hit by the Hurak there. He should've made sure that they were all dealt with. It was his fault.

Only then he realised that his legs were beginning to weaken and buckle slightly, and the pain in his ribs began to become excruciating. He grimaced as he fell to one knee just above the stairs, putting one hand to the bannister to steady himself while another hand spread across his ribs unconsciously.

It was then that another terrifying thought hit him.

Savard was dead.

The Hurak could have killed thousands of soldiers, but that was worse. He was dead, actually dead, and Burd feared for what was to come to Mountainholm. There was no 'heir', not second in command here. Damn it. Why now?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Shaman frowned a little at Fedura, though that quickly disappeared from his brow. He tugged forward with his arms, being pulled back by the chains.

"I'm a little tied up here." He said, sighing in an exaggerated manner.

But then, almost as if he was actually in a different place; his ears perked up and he looked into the distance, his eyes far away and completely blank. The maniacal, disturbing smile returned to his face and his eyes returned to his location.

"Hurak assassins." He said, looking at Fedura, though giving off the impressions that he wasn't just talking to her. "That's... unusual. But still, their deaths will go down in legends; the men who collapsed a mountain."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Ella smiled as Li'Yen finished his meal, she felt as if she'd actually made a difference, however small it actually was. There was still some food on her plate, but she was finished.

"You should really take a look around the place." She told him, looking out the window. "You've been in here all morning, it's actually quite nice out there. It just seems really... peaceful now."

She stood up, picking up her coat and putting it on, embracing the warmth. "If you need me, I'm in inn seven. You just turn right from here and keep walking, you can't miss it."

Smiling once more, she bent down low and gave him a tiny kiss on the cheek. "Glad you're alright." She said, getting ready to leave. "It'll get better soon; trust me." With a final wave, she headed out the exit. The cold, icy air stinging her cheeks while the snow danced around her, it wasn't the worst feeling ever; and for a moment, she truly believed her own words.

~

ooc: I get the feeling we're all gonna hurt Fedura later..

Also, I'm taking the liberty of assuming the Shaman is chained up like Jalin was; arms, legs and then some. Correct me if I'm wrong, Raven.

ic: Fedura frowned a bit when the giant of a man tried to move and was pulled back by the myriad of chains that hung off of him. It was as if the humans thought that not only did he need to be chained to the wall, but his chains needed to be chained to something as well. It seemed a bit superfluous to her.

When the Shaman mentioned Hurak assassins, Fedura looked a bit surprised. The Hurak as a race seemed as likely as an Orc to take to a trade of stealth, but then again, they'd already shown that as a race they could excel both at magickcraft and at the arts of war, so why not? Shaking her head, she noted the odd quality of his voice. It sounded to her like he was addressing a group and not just her. Turning, she looked around, yet saw nobody and turned back. She shrugged this off as either paranoia or a coincidence.

"Well, I'd be happy to get you out of those chains and help you annihilate this place's inhabitants and the invading Hurak force, but I'm afraid you'd kill me if I let you go. I can appreciate that you hate everyone, but I'm not gonna let you go if I feel you're gonna turn on me." The Dunmer wanted to trust the Shaman, but given what he was and what he'd said, she wasn't sure that would be smart. She didn't mind him going on a homicidal rampage if she let him go -in fact that would make her happy, especially if she got to help- she just didn't want to be a target.

Getting up, she set the bowl of fruit apple she'd offered him on the ground and stood, biting into the now peeled orange as she left. Holding her other hand out in front of her, palm up, she ignited a green orb of light in it and used it to look around. There was a desk in a nearby room, a makeshift officelike arrangement, and after a bit of searching she found a key in a small jewelry box, along with a small purse of gold that she helped herself to. After sticking her six gold in there and putting the whole thing in a pocket within her robes, she sauntered back out and knelt by the Shaman, key in hand. There was a lock on a pair of chains that held his left arm to the wall and she pointed at it.

"Hopefully this'll get those chains off. I'm only unlocking your arm, though, so you can eat. We can talk about your freedom after I have a convincing pledge you're not gonna kill me after I release you."

Slipping the key into the lock, Fedura tried to turn it and hoped it would work. There had to be other locks in this jail that it could go to, but it was still worth a try.

ooc: Leaving it up to Raven if he wants to let Fedura have freeing powers over the Shaman or not. For the sake of Mountainholm, I don't suggest it. For the sake of entertainment, I think it'd be fun.
_______
"That's a horrible stereotype. I've known men that could cook wonderfully and women who burned everything, but thanks, Iris. It's always nice to be complemented." Karst interjected as she cooked, "Besides, you know how I just love to be called 'cute'." she added with playful sarcasm. She wasn't quite sure what she thought being being called cute, honestly, but she knew it was a complement. To her though, cute implied innocent, which often implied helpless, which she hated to think she was.

But I tend to overthink things. She reminded herself at this thought. Once she was satisfied the omelettes were almost done, she threw the peppers and cheese on to melt and flipped the pancakes she was in the middle of making. Another few minutes and breakfast was done. She folded the fluffy eggs over the melted cheese and peppers on them, pulled the pancakes from the stove, put two of each on a pair of plates and carried both upstairs. When she got to the door, she simply walked in. "Hope you like omelettes and pancakes." she said, sitting down next to him. Odeen was sitting on the bed, reading a book when she entered and looked over his shoulder when he heard her speak. Taking a plate, he looked at the food and smiled, but noted there was not fork to eat with.

"Uhm.." he started, but stopped. He didn't want to seem unappreciative and the food did look good.

"What is it?" Karst asked with a motherly tone of concern. Her ears flicked back a tad. "I.. didn't burn anything, did I?" she added with worry.

"No, no.. I just.. I don't usually eat without a fork. It's okay, though, I can get one." the Argonian said and began to get up. Karst grabbed his shoulder and lightly pushed him back down.

"No, no. I'll get it." she stated, giving him no room to argue. Odeen just sat there feeling a bit awkward until she got back with a couple of the utensils. Handing one to him, he took it and started eating. "Well? Is it okay?"

Odeen made sure to swallow before speaking. "Of course. You're a great cook."

Karst smiled and flopped down on her stomach on the bed and started eating. Given her overall level of hunger, the food tasted even better than it normally would have. The two old friends ate in contented silence, unaware of the chaos going on elsewhere.
_______
Zan'Tarre shrugged. "I'll just stick to what I'm good at and let you gals do the cooking since you're better at it." he said. Sniffing the air, he looked over as Karst was melting cheese on and smiled as he chewed a bite of his breakfast. "Omelettes, huh?" he asked, but she either ignored him or didn't hear because she didn't reply. A couple moments later, she walked by with two plates of food. Two plates? That must mean she cooked for Odeen too. That was nice of her. Zant knew that her and Odeen were practically like siblings the last time he'd seen them and that was years ago. Given the stresses Karst must've gone through being cut off entirely from Veyar and worrying about her child in the midst of an invasion, he could only assume they'd gotten even tighter. He envied the Argonian's relationship with Karst since they knew and got along with each other so well whereas he didn't half as much about her as he'd like to have, the Alchemist was better at talking to her and she seemed to be irritated by him an awful lot.

But as much as he wished he had that kind of friendship with Karst, he was glad she had someone to go to she could trust. He thought about this as he ate, then looked up at Iris. "So, what do you want to do today, love?" he asked contently. He didn't much care what he did today as long as he got to spend time with Iris. The full moon would be coming in a week at very most and he started transforming randomly at night more often the closer to that date. He had that nagging feeling in his gut that he usually got before one of those nights, so he wanted to make the best of his day while it still belonged to him and not the feral beast inside him.

OOC: Sorry I haven't been on, haven't been feeling the best. And Fedura's lucky that I've let her do that and decided that everyone has left to go see what's happened elsewhere- but yeah, you're right about his chains

IC: The key smoothly entered the lock, and turned with an audible 'click'.

The Shaman didn't know whether to go for the woman or not, on the one hand, he definitely wanted to destroy something. Wanted to wreck that pretty little face of hers, wanted to kill something beautiful.

But this woman was potentially more help to him in other ways.

"Many more would die before you." He said finally, as his arm came loose. "If I was freed."

Without asking, he bent down as far as the chains would let him and grabbed one of the apples, finishing it only three bites; all the while thinking of what he would actually do if he got out of the dungeouns. He was silenced, weakened, and slightly disorientated.

But still; he could take a few people down with him. And that was a better death than rotting in here.

"Well then." He said, looking Fedura in the eye. "Are you going to unlock the other chains or what?"

Li'Yen watched in silence as Ella left the inn. He put a hand to his cheek where she had kissed him, a blank look on his face. Li'Yen had never been very comfortable with intimacy, and physical contact (of any kind) was something he usually didn't enjoy. But there were conflicting feelings running through his mind this time... on the one hand, his deep-seeded phobia of signs of affection were setting off warning bells... but on the other hand, he felt a warmth and calm in his heart, and his instinctive mind was telling him that it felt good to be kissed. Finally, after a few moments frozen in that position, he shook his head and got to his feet.

Such a silly thing for our brain to fight about...

Looking out the window at the snow being blown about by the wind, Li'Yen looked down at his tattered pants and bare chest and shivered. Going out into that kind of weather dressed as he was did not particularly appeal to him. Turning on his heel, he made for his room. Once there, he searched through the small dresser next to the bed, for anything that he might be able to wear. Thankfully, there were 2 drawers full of clothes left behind by a previous occupant. He managed to find a pair of black pants that fit quite comfortably, and a gray shirt. Reattaching his scabbard and the canteen he had found to his belt, Li'Yen set out from the inn, breathing in the cool air, his eyes roaming about the interior of Mountainholm. There was a certain peacefulness about the place, despite the situation, and everyone he passed by on his tour seemed to be in high-spirits.

Things, it seemed, might finally be headed in the right direction.

OOC : With Ravens consent , I present my character And a introductory post .
----------------------------------------------

Name: Riley Gandring
Nickname : "Riles"
Race: Breton-werewolf
Age: 43
Gender: Male
Birthsign: The tower

Focus: Combat
Main skills: marksman , blade , alchemy , light armor , "inspection"
Class: Legionnare Detective

General appearance: Worn out , tired , useless . Riley just looks sloppy . His skin has a rough , cracked look to it , and he has a ugly and uncleaned thick brown moustache that extends to the corners of his mouth . His chin is coated in brown stubble , and his eyes always seem to be looking in two seperate directions . Due to his peculiar and messy appearance , it comes as no suprise that many avoid him .

Hair: Rileys hair is medium cut , and is coloured black . gritty and greasy , the strands of his hair stick together in clumps , and there is a sickly shine to it .

Eye Colour: Dark brown
Height: 5'8
Tattoos/Scars: He has a tattoo on his left , upper arm that states boldly "for the legion" in bold , black text , with a picture of a legionnares helmet underneath .

Mental Description: A dislikable nihilist , Riley at first glance is a stubborn , grouchy aging man who spends too much time in the tavern and could do with a few baths . Those who gain his trust and look past his shortcomings however , find a once gallant and intelligent figure , whos life suffered the harshest of tragedies and has left him a tainted , broken soul . He can act calm in the most desperate of situations , most likely to the fact that hes usually tipsy most of the time .

Primary weapon: A standard , steel legion issued crossbow . Its somewhat warn with all kinds of nicks and scratches , a statement that his legionnare days are long gone . The letters "R.G" and crudely cut into the sides of the weapon and a bayonet-esque blade has been sloppily affixed to the tip of the weapon .

Secondary weapon: He has a shattered glass dagger . hardly effective , but its all he has .

Clothing/Armour mostly worn: Due to his "unique" gift , Riley likes to keep things simple . After all....ripping through a nice shirt every full moon hardly ever appeals to him . He has basic black netch leather pants that are durable enough to "extend" when he changes form , and a basic tan coloured button-up shirt , with black leather suspenders . he wears leather boots .

Inventory: 17 steel bolts , A cracked gold flask , shattered glass dagger and his crossbow .

Misc:
- due to his rampant consumption of alcohol , Riley has the much feared "DT Shakes" . With no alcohol in his body...he starts trembling slightly , making him a flawed near-useless marksman .

- With his detective past in the legion , Riley has the gift of careful inspection and investiagtion . As a result , he can spot things some can miss , and his deduction skills are beyond compare , although his creative thinking can sometimes be mistaken for drunken ramblings

- Rileys speaks in a thick , gravelly tone , as if someone had taken it upon themselves to give his throat a rub-down with some sandpaper .


Bio: Born to intillectual middle class Bretons in Chorrol , Riley spent many days with his nose buried in books of all sorts . Training himself to be a observant and strong-thinking being , he enlisted in the legion and became a investigator , following leads on Dark brotherhood activity and such . Fellow legionnares applauded his clever thinking , believing him to be a sleuth of the highest calibre .

His tragedy occured however , when investigating a missing person case . A Bosmer trader had travelled to Solsthiem and had gone missing. In his lust to solve the case , Riley followed lead after lead until he came across a isolated cottage occupied by a blank eyed , disturbingly silent Khajiit . he was offered a bed so he could investiagte the surrounding area without too much hassle...but found himself savagely attacked in his sleep by a werewolf .

using his legion tactics , he was able to barely escape with his life , killing the deceptive khajiit in the process . he returned to his outpost battered and bruised . Chaos struck again when he awoke in the hallway of his barracks some days later , a dead soldier at his feet . Reports from other soldiers detailed them hearing horrible howls outside of thier rooms during the night , and it was clear that he had been afflicted with the werewolf disease .

The usual punishment was death . But his fellow men and captains had grown to like him so much . But a werewolf in the legion was a bad image to say the least , and he was discharged , lucky to leave solsthiem with his life . he turned to the drink , and has been a chronic alchoholic ever since . The attack by the Hurak didnt bother him in the slightest , and he spends all his days in the mountainholm pub.

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

The cold wind hit Riley in the face like a brick as he was sent sprawling head over heels , landing embarrassingly head first into the snow covered street . He scrambled awkwardly to his feet , and turned to face the figure behind him .

"And stay out , you bum!" The burly innkeep shouted angrily , shaking his fist as he did so . "Times are tough enough without you motley lot stumbling about and picking fights!" .

Before he could retort , Riley was cut off by the slamming of the inn door . He sighed and ran his hands through his hair , trying to shake out some of the snow before pulling the collar of his shirt up and bowing his head in attempt to block out the cold .

Rummaging through the pockets of his cotton shirt , he eventually found his flask . He raised it to his dry mouth , licking his chapped lips in anticipation of the drink , then grumbled distastefully when he found it was empty . "Damnit...." he muttered sourly .

He made his way down the street , trembling slightly because of the cold , and the lack of alcohol in his veins . "Isnt there anything to do in this place other than loiter around in dingey pubs and beg for booze money?" he thought to himself . He imagined a nice warm fireplace and a steaming hot bath , but then remembered the reality of the situation .

"Blegh , why get your hopes up eh Riles?" he snickered smugly to himself , and continued his search for a pub or inn that hadnt had him banned from it , a rare thing in Mountainholm .

ooc: Yay, new person! I like Riley; he seems like a good bit of variety for this RP. Welcome to the show, Willis.

ic: Fedura shook her head and stood, stepping back a bit. "'Many more would die before you.' implies that I will die in the end. That.." -she yanked an apple from the bowl with the tiny telekinesis spell she knew and bit into it- "..is not good enough, Abaddan. I need not only a promise that I'll be immune to your wrath forevermore once you're free, but a promise you'll not blow everything up entirely, too. Leave some houses and some people for me to enslave, y'know?" the Dunmer said casually. She obviously had no qualms with murdering innocent people and enslaving the survivors. As she swallowed a second bite of apple, she thought of another demand.

"Oh, and if a white Khajiit attacks you, just knock him or her out. I know two that are living here and I want both alive. The male for myself and the little female to keep his morale up. You can do whatever you like to the moody little brat, though, as long as she's alive and only minorly injured." she told him, then smiled wickedly. "Who knows, we could make a great team if you're willing to cooperate."
_______
Unaware that Fedura was plotting her enslavement, Karst continued to munch happily on the breakfast she'd made. Odeen ate with surprising speed, considering the way he ate normally, and was full before Karst. In all fairness, though, he hadn't eaten all of his food, either. Karst finished a minute or so later, having literally licked her plate clean, and looked over to see Odeen again ruffling through his alchemy supplies, half an omelette and three-quarters of a pancake left on his plate. Rolling over on her back on the bed, she relaxed, let out a loud and satisfied belch, then patted her stomach.

"Good to have some grub in my guts again." she commented idly, then looked over the ends of her toes at Odeen. "How many times can you possibly arrange that stuff?"

"Well, once. Then I have to keep it arranged as I add new potions, which I have regrettably been unable to do recently. They're sorted alphabetically by effect at the moment, but I'm wondering if I should also sort them by strength within effect.." the Alchemist mused. Considering how different he and Karst were, it was a wonder they didn't drive one another nuts.

"I.. see." she said, not all that interested in how he arranged his potions. As far as she saw it, if he knew where to get the right potion when he needed it, that was all that mattered. After a moment of awkward silence -for Karst at least- she spoke up again. "You uh.. gonna eat the rest of that?"

Odeen looked up, then saw the plate and smiled as best as an Argonian could. "Oh, no, I couldn't eat another bite. It was delicious, though. Thank you." he said very politely. Karst smiled, leaned over to snatch the plate and set it in her lap, then began finishing Odeen's breakfast. Considering how tiny she was, it was a wonder she could eat so much, but she'd been like this all her life. When she had the chance, she stuffed her stomach as full as it could physically get, and a lot more could fit in there than most would guess.

"Whel thunk yoo. Nyshe to git combluhments." she said, her mouth full of pancake. Odeen nodded and smiled before going back to arranging. When she had polished off Odeen's meal, Karst burped again, quietly this time, and gathered the forks and plates to take downstairs. Seeing as she needed something to do to keep herself busy while she was here, she grabbed a few plates off of tables their occupants had abandoned on her way to the kitchen, then set them all in a basin and headed outside to pump water to do the dishes. The Nord running the inn smiled as she left, humming pleasantly to herself, tail flicking idly behind her.

"I always heard people're happier when they're busy, but.. that girl.. she's somethin' else, isn't she?" he asked, directing the comment somewhat at Iris and Zant.

OOC: Well, finally I'm able to join so here's my character sheet.

Name: Achilios Tyrell
Nickname: None
Age: 31
Race: Imperial
Gender: Male
Birthsign: The Lover

Focus: Stealth
Skills: Sneak, Marksman, Blade, Athletics, Acrobatics, Heavy Armor
Class: Legion Forester

General Appearance: A handsome man who never smiles nor laughs. Achilios obviously takes care of himself even though he's not the most sociable person who doesn't care about impressing others. His auburn hair reaches down to about mid-neck on him and is well groomed and ocasionally falls into his eyes so it's not that unusual to see him brushing his bangs off his face. Achilios's skin is quite pale and he can easily be mistaken for a Breton.
Hair: Auburn hair, nicely groomed
Eye color: Brown
Height: 6'0"

Mental Description: Achilios never smiles and never laughs. He doesn't much of a sense of humor and is always the one who isn't laughing in a group of people. He likes to keep to himself mostly as he isn't very sociable at all and it's rare to see him in a normal conversation with someone.

Primary Weapon: Dwemer crossbow
Secondary Weapon: Iron shortsword
Clothing/Armor worn most often: Legion armor head to toe with a dark green bandana around his neck

Inventory: Quiver with fifty crossbow bolts
Misc. N/A

Bio: Achilios doesn't have any clear memories of his parents as he was taken from them at an early age to be a slave. Achilios was one of many child slaves and they were forced to do work meant for an advlt and when they didn't do it right, they were whipped.

One day, when he was 15, Achilios found a way to escape the slavers. He freed the other children that night and left for good, but not without killing the head slaver first. Soon after, he was contacted by the Dark Brotherhood. He refused without hesitation as he wanted to do good in the world and not just kill people in cold blood.

Achilios decided to take up the crossbow and join the Legion as a forester. He was accepted quickly and lived 10 years in happiness until the Hurak attacked. Him and a few of his other fellow Legionaires escaped to Mountainholm.

Unconciousness was a confusing place for Lore. Rather than being taken by dreams, she seemed to be looking (from what perspective, she was unsure) at herself, swimming in and out of focus in a sea of black. There was nothing there, only darkness. "Hello?" she watched herself say tentatively. "Is anyone there?"

There was no response, and her voice seemed to be swallowed by the vast expanse of blackness. Belatedly, she remembered all that had happened: Mountainholm, Burd, the Shaman, the attack- Savard dying. It hit her like a physical blow- or two physical blows. One to the side and one to the shoulder. She buckled and collapsed to the ground.

What was happening? Why was she here, in this black place? What happened to the world she knew?

SHe didn't know. She sank into a sitting position, although what she was sitting on besides darkness was unclear. She wanted out. She wanted to make sure Burd was okay. She wanted to save Savard and Mountainholm, save this one, final piece of goodness that was left in the world. She wanted everything she remembered to be untrue. She wanted her family to be safe, her instincts to have been wrong, and everything to be right again.

But it wasn't like that. Everything was dark. And she was alone.

OOC: For the two new guys, if either of you want something to do to get into the flow of things, just PM me and we'll think of a little sub-plot for ya, that's how Burd and Lore got started


IC: What the hell does she think I am? The Shaman asked silently. A God? There's a limit to my power, especially when I'm in this state.

But he didn't care, he would play along with the woman's games, humour her, he only needed a moment, and just a little strength, if he could just get out of here...

"Fine. I promise that I won't harm you, or your two little friends." He said, placing a childish emphasis on 'promise', that would be another one of her mistakes, he had no intention of keeping any promise, he had no reason to. Loners like him rarely did, especially when they were on the brink of death themselves.

Throughout the past few minutes hundreds of different ideas for escape had flashed through his mind, each more elaborate than the next, and he had finally settled on one, but it was risky, he had no idea where he'd end up. And there was no way he could be sure he'd survive long enough to get to that part. But still, it was worth a try.

He was getting tired of this woman now, as useful a pawn as she was. Hell, if he was sure that he could kill her, he would, but he had to save his strength, every last drop for that moment.

Maybe you won't die tonight.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A guard overlooking Lore was getting increasingly worried, even as Juliek tried to heal her.

"She's not getting any better." He said, panic in his voice. "It's not working."

Needless to say, these words hurt Burd more than his broken rib could ever do. Yet again that feeling of helplessness washed over him, but at the moment, his bodily instincts kicked in, and his mind started to focus on the more pressing matter, his ribs.

He suspected that the Hurak had broken one, he had to have done, it wouldn't hurt this much otherwise. Lore was already in the hands of others, he was no help to anyone just laying here.

Although he cursed himself as he did so, he began to leave. To head towards the barracks, where there would be healers, he could send more help down here and get his own injury worked on. Besides, he couldn't bear to sit there and just listen.

Gritting his teeth to bear the pain, he hobbled out of the exit into the cold, icy wind, and began to head for the barracks.

"Let's try it my way, shall we?" Jalin interrupted Juliek, seeing as the woman hadn't gotten any better. No cloth had been given by anyone to cover the wounds, so Jalin instead ignored them, shifting himself into a position to pick her up. His left arm went under her knees, his right under her neck, cradling her shoulder against his chest as he hefted her up.

It would be an uncomfortably, likely unhealthy trip for Lore, but if it got her to the healers quicker Jalin didn't care. "Lead me to the healers. I'll carry her." He ordered to one of the soldiers, hardened voice flatly stubborn. It was his way or the highway right now, because a life was on the line and he needed to get her to healers. Real healers. However, Juliek's magic may have helped, to a small degree. "Thank you for the help Juliek, but I think she needs professional attention." He said simply, in the best case of politeness the Redguard could manage. His expression looked somewhat sincere, however, which might make up for the harshness of his words.

OOC: So, I've posted about 3 times in two weeks. I guess I'm just no longer as interested in this RP as I'd need to. I don't want to burden the RP with my chars, but right now there seems to be no credible way of getting rid of them. So, I'll try to stick around until I can dispose of them, but if I'm not around, and the opportunity arises (Hurak attack, the group leaves Mountainholm or something like that...) you have my permission to finish 'em off.

IC: Juliek was not offended by the Redguards decision, but rather relieved. A spell of minor healing was apparently not suited to bring someone back from the brink of death. More importantly, he was no longer responsible for her survival. Whether she died or not was the Ansei's problem now.

"Good luck, Jalin. And hurry!"


Arybeth walked up to Juliek as he turned away from Jalin to look around.
"Are you allright? You look exhausted."

Juliek's mind had wandered off already, as ahe asked himself another question. "Why did I try to help her? I don't even know her, and now I can't defend Arybeth if something happens. All for an Altmer, who is going to die anyway..."

Arybeth repeated her question, sounding concerned now, and Juliek finally realized she was trying to talk to him. "What? Oh. Yes, I am allright. I just won't be casting any spells for a while."

He didn't tell her he was mostly worried about her because of this.

ooc: Aw, Uber, that svcks. I liked Juliek and Arybeth..

ic:
The Shaman's thoughts were pretty accurate. Even though she'd not been around to hear it, what the other Hurak had said about Jalin, 'a god amongst insects', was a fairly accurate anolysis of Fedura's opinion of the Shaman before her. She wanted to befriend him, learn from him, maybe even join him in his homicidal efforts.

That said, even though Fedura was good at killing people, she was certainly less talented at reading them. The Hurak's shallow promise sounded sincere enough for her. Nodding, she slipped the key into the remaining locks and removed them. As the last chain fell to the ground with a heavy 'clink', Fedura stepped back.

"Well, what say we go commit us some murder?" she asked, smiling in a maniacal-yet-friendly manner at the Shaman. She knew what he was plotting for her about as well as the others knew what she was plotting for them, which is to say, not at all.
_______
Zant smiled at the Nord upon hearing the man's comment about his sibling. "Yeah, she's something else all right." he said with a laugh before turning back to finish his food. A couple bites later, he set his fork on his plate and swallowed the last bit of his breakfast. "Thanks, babe." he said appreciatively to Iris. After eating Hurak and his own average-at-best cooking for so long, it was nice to have something tasty.

He started to get up to wash his plate, but Karst walked by him at that moment, a bucket of water in each hand, and set them down long enough to snatch Zant's plate from his hands and toss it in one of the buckets. Pouring the water and the plate into a basin in the kitchen, she grabbed a bar of soap and a rag and began cleaning the dishes. Shrugging, Zant sat back down. "Thanks, sis." he said as an afterthought.

"Sure, whatever." came the reply from the kitchen, accompanied by the muffled sounds of plates and utensils clinking together underwater. The smaller Khajiit was still a bit miffed about Zant treating her like a little kid, but she was starting to get over it. After all, he meant well. While she scrubbed the kitchenwares, she thought of how to casually bring up the subject of him proposing to Iris later.

OOC: Uber, I refuse to kill Arybeth. I just can't. Sending ya a PM and waiting for Raven!

OOC: Sorry, was waiting for Aula and the Shaman.

IC: Upon being released from the chains the Shaman stood to his full, unhunched height, stretching as he did so. He looked even more intimidating than he did without the chains, standing a bit over six foot and painted in creepy white war paint across his face. Without another word to Fedura he headed towards the wall, where he had been eyeing up a large bastard sword for some time. He held it like a longsword, and seemed uncharacteristically quiet as he inspected it, moving it around slowly in his large hands.

"This will have to do." He said finally, before turning back towards Fedura. Inspecting her in a similar fashion. "No." He said, answering a question that nobody had asked. "I'm going alone. You can do what you like now."

She would most likely get them both killed before he could even try to get out, that was intolerable. This he had to do alone.

He began to head for the exit, not waiting for her response.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The guard nodded to Jalin silently, quickly taking the steps leading down two at a time.

As he opened the doors a chilling blast of wind struck throughout the keep, guards remained p at Savard's quarters, inspecting the damage and mourning the loss.

The soldier began to lead Jalin north towards the barracks, where a healer would be present.

~

ooc: Where'd everyone go?

ic: Fedura let out an indignant huff at the Shaman as he grabbed a sword, then told her she couldn't come with him.

"No? No?! You can't do this to me, you owe me!" she exclaimed angrily, following him. She grabbed his thick wrist and used that leverage to spin herself in front of him. "I expect to get something out of this; I don't do charity, dammit! I freed you because I thought you could be useful to me." she looked up a couple inches into his eyes and narrowed hers. "You're mine, you hear me? You're silenced and I can put you down, so you obey me now or I'll [censored] kill you!"

OOC : Im waiting for the shammy to run out so I can confront him Ill just give Riley a wee boost..

IC :

Viciously the cold bit Riley's body all over . Gnawing at him like some feral dog . He rubbed his arms and kept his head low . "Why cant you just sod off?" he mumbled to himself , hoping the cold and sharp wind would dissipate , but to no avail .

"Oy! Felon! Dont you know the laws here?! No begging!" A sound shot out from behind him over the howl of the wind . It was a guardsman , a paticularly burly one at that . In his state of semi-drunkeness , Riley wouldnt stand a chance in a fight . He attempted to talk the hot headed Nord down .

"Look pal Im not begging , Im just looking for an inn so I can sit by a nice fi-"..... before he could finish Riley was grabbed the scruff of his shirt like a disobedient child . " Im telling you your beggin! And that means your breaking the law! ill process you over at the administrative building and then youll spend a few days in jail , then youll have the shelter you so desire!" The Nord excalimed gruffly , almost as if he was proud of having the authority to arrest someone that had done nothing wrong .

Riley was about to raise his voice in discontempt but then he realised the guard actually had a point . It was funny to him but a cell beat this weather . He shrugged . "meh...fine . Looks like you got me" he said with a smile on his face .

"Dont try to resist i wont let y...well , err yeah , thats right!" The guard said perplexingly , trying to cover his confusion with a fake and somewhat humurous manly tone .

The two made their way towards the administrative building .

OOC: For the sake of the Rp, I'll just get them to the dang healer already.

IC: Jalin followed the guard out of the building and into the street, where a wicked blast of chilled air hit his body. But he remained ever firm, holding his ground and Lore as he moved. The cold would actually aid in stopping the blood flow, freezing the bleeding, and might even numb the pain his movements might cause.

However, too long and bloodloss would not be the only cause of her death. Jalin was thankful the Barracks were not a lengthy distance away, and then they arrived the guard held the door open as Jalin entered.

"I've got a heavy wound here! Healers now!" The Redguard rose his voice, which carried through the halls with the authority of a commander; only fitting.
------------------------
"Welcome kitten. I haven't seen you in years, and I wish I could have treated you to a more grand meal, but our reunion has come at the worst of times." Iris sighed, setting down her fork before taking the plate of the table and heading towards the kitchen.

"I have no idea what I want to do today, but I think I should check in with Savard first and see if he needs anything. After that, maybe we can do something." Iris shrugged, before going into the kitchen. She slipped the plate into the water and leaned close to Karst's ear.

"He's all yours while I'm with Savard. Not sure how long it will take, depends on what he's got planned for the next move." Iris whispered, a sly grin on her face before she pecked the side of Karst's head and left the kitchen, headed for the exit out of the inn.

OOC: Aula, you ain't half put me in an awkward place with the Shaman here. willis, if this ends badly for the Shaman, then I'll think of something else for you kay?

IC: The woman stood in front of the Shaman, shouting and threatening him angrily. To be honest it brought him close to the edge, and as soon as she finished talking he swung the hilt of his sword towards the side of her head with frightening speed and unthinking aggression.

If it connected, the blow would probably daze her long enough for him to get out of the dungeouns without her following. Although she had been a pawn, he was weak right now, and she was dangerous, he knew that by doing this he was endangering himself, so he just prayed that the blow struck true.

~

The soldiers didn't recognise him, but it didn't matter, the Redguard stood out amongst them like only a commander would, but he wasn't was he? Ah, it didn't matter, several quickly headed through a door towards the healer, while others stood up off their chairs around the tables in the room, some just to get a better look at what was happening.

One of them cleared food and dishes from a table onto the floor in one sweeping motion and looked at the girl in his arms. "Put her here." He said loudly, "Others are off to get the healer, she'll be alright."

"Damn right she's gonna be." Jalin muttered back, moving towards the table and setting her legs on it, cradling her with his other arm. "Burd's counting on it." He gently laid her down, making sure her shoulder remained adequately supported.

Then he proceeded to look the altmer over, inspecting the wounds quickly. The bleeding from her shoulder was still going, though weaker than before Juliek's work, and Jalin motioned for a cloth, which one of the men provided from the small bar. He pressed it against her shoulder tightly to staunch the flow until healers arrive. He looked across her body to the other side; the sword wound bleeding had nearly stopped.