Authors Note: Sorry to completely cut away from part six, but I want to start fresh now I'm back. I was going to go through with the idea of another opening post, but I realised that I was beginning to quote WAY too much already in the first part, so it would've been uber long, in the end I just scrapped it. Sorry for those that had to wait for me to get back, chapter six summary is up.

Question of the day: Favourite NPC? Marallyn, Savard, Burd, Lee from part 2, the Hurak Shaman? That last one will make more sense as this part goes along, heh. Ready yourselves.

And oh yes, for the people who don't have Dramatis Personae sheets could you PM them to me please? Cheers.

"Heads will roll, throats will be split, blood will flow like springs of water."
~C4P3 - Of the Hurak Bible~
The world as we know it as at an end. They came from nowhere, hundreds, maybe thousands, burning all in their path before any retaliation could be made. They adorned themselves with the bones of their victims, their clothing as red as the bloodshed which they caused. In three days they had wiped out the major cities of Cyrodil, and no help came from the other provinces of Tamriel. Only the Imperial City withstood the initial attack, a beacon of hope to the surviving people in the wasteland outside, for they were in their hundreds, survivors from the attacks hiding from the hordes, it seemed there would be no hope, and getting back to the imperial city was near impossible, so they stayed, reforming a small, imitation of society in fear. Those who fled to the imperial city were caught by the merciless warriors who had settled around Cyrodil, but they did not kill the people who ran, no, but they were never seen again.

And so it remained like this for another two years, the unkown invaders stayed in Cyrodil, keeping the Imperial City besieged, they survived, though life was by no means easy, food was hard to come by, but they managed. It was unkown as to how many survivors were in the land beyond the walls, but they were there, and the people knew it. Occasionally notes would come from the air, from birds, from signals, each time asking for help, and each time; denied. What happened next, no-one expected, a spokesman from the invaders stood forward, walking along the bridge, with five guards behind him. He stood at over six foot, and was unarmoured but adorned with skulls across his chest. They stood at the gates, and waited, expecting to be let in. The guards, not knowing what to do called the emperor directly, like them, he was confused, but the men were let in, given council, and the leader made an announcement.

"We, are the Hurak. And we have come from the shadows to bring justice to your world. The royalty must die like common beggars and petty thieves. The worthy will be allowed to live, there is no reason for them to perish under our blades. We merely demand that you, the unworthy, submit yourselves to us, and be slain like the vermin you are. "

He then remained silent, gazing upon the emperor with a cold, steely glare that froze him in his place. He remained sat in his seat, the legionnaires around the room looked around anxiously, their bows drawn and aimed upon the men in the middle of the room. His lips barely moved as he gaze the order to the imperials.

"Kill them."

At once, arrows flew from all sides of the room into the men, seemingly killing them instantly, they collapsed to the floor, not event trying to put up a fight. The emperor stood from his chair, approaching them, laid there. He went up to the leader, the biggest one, his body pierced with several arrows. The emperor bent down, and the man's eyes opened, and he grabbed his face.

"For what you have done, all of your people will die. Do you really think that gods will descend from the sky? Nothing will save you now, not your faith, not these walls that you hide behind, your very existence will be crushed, your women and children enslaved." -he dragged the emperors face down to his own, coughing up blood as he did so- "Our goddess gave birth to your gods. Fear the calling of the wolves." And with that, he let go, leaving the emperor, his face covered with dead man's blood, shocked and startled, frozen to the ground that he stood upon. Upon further inspection of the bodies, the leader was found having a book, a large thick book, with Hurak engraved on the front, it was their bible, the book they looked upon for guidance, and it's contents disturbed the emperor deeply.

"If a mortal stands against you, strike him down with all your might. And if the heavens ride against you then the gods themselves must be damned."
~C1P1 - Of the Hurak Bible~
That was half a year ago.

Now:

Food is running out, and the population cannot maintain itself within the city walls. They need to try and push out against the Hurak tribes. You will be one of the few selected to go out with the first batch, it is a random choice, and you do not have a choice in this. This RP starts in the imperial city. A legionnaire stands upon a pedestal, reading out names from a list. Everyone is in the crowd below, and those who get read out will have to walk up to the legionnaire, and through to a building to his left, where they will be debriefed.

http://www.gamesas.com/bgsforums/index.php?showtopic=808883&hl= Summary:

The group selected were sent out into the barren lands, no sign of the Hurak was found, except for the remains of the initial attack. The first few minutes of the expedition were uncomfortable, a unnatural silence covering the land, the only sounds being from their footsteps. They crossed the bridge, and headed into the woods, were they walked for another hour or two, heading towards the destination, a small village to the north of the imperial city, which had been set up not long before the Hurak came, it's population was around the one-hundred mark. When the group arrived at the village, it was burnt to the ground, the remains of the dead littered the houses and a horrible stench lingered over the place. Just as they were ordered though, they must inspect the houses, it is fortunate that night approaches, as the village is in open plains, clear to see from far around and dominated by a large hill only a few hundred yards away.

http://www.gamesas.com/bgsforums/index.php?showtopic=813330&st=0&start=0 Summary:

Without a sight of the Hurak anywhere they searched the village, and for a moment, it looked like they might make it out without any incident. But it was never going to be that easy, the Hurak decided to show up, and they fell upon the forty-strong group like a flood, tearing them apart, though taking several casualties themselves. Just as hope seemed to be lost -except for Jalin, who looked as if he was ready to take them all on himself- allies arrived, unkown men from the forest. They came in quickly, and got out even quicker, taking as many survivors with them as they could. They were led to a woman in the forest, Elsynia, and after tending to several of the groups wounds (Arybeth and Jalin having the most serious) they headed off with the woman, although Li'Yen managed to get on her bad side first, they found a hidden cave, and headed inside. It turned out to be a sanctuary for the survivors, where many people had formed a new life, there were shacks, primitive but effective housing, clean water, defence, it gave the group a chance to rest.

Once they had settled down, they were lad to a well known man named Lee, they talked for a short while and he gave them a terrifying revelation, they were meant to die out there, the emperor had sent them out as decoys, to draw attention away from the real scouting parties. Revealing this led to a confrontation between Gerald and Karst, who was very much the aggressor, Gerald only just avoided being attacked as the others calmed her down, he quickly left the area. Further along the conversation another conflict began in the group, where Arybeth tried to defend claims on the usefulness of loyalty. Although remaining unresolved, Arybeth had quieted down on the matter.

http://www.gamesas.com/bgsforums/index.php?showtopic=818529 Summary:

The group stayed at the cave hideout overnight, Lance and Karst had a nice moment, where they both talked and shared, while Arybeth and Jalin had a less nice moment, with Jalin being his blunt self. Li'Yen and Elsybeth made what could be considered a small friendship and Li'Yen got a free shirt out of it, while the other went about their business. Unfortunately, they could only spend the night there. It seemed the Hurak had followed them, and when morning came they awoke to sounds of battle and mayhem outside.

It left everyone with a choice, fight or flee, and it came upon several of the group to fight and bide time for others to get out of the cave alive, there was no chance of victory in the cave, despite Jalin's summoning of the Shehai, which by his hand slayed many Hurak before they felled him. The fighters awoke imprisoned by the Hurak, and after several torturous minuted (which involved Gerald getting beaten up a fair bit) they managed to fight off their captors, and are now arming themselves to try and do the impossible, break out of the Hurak encampment, though they have no idea where they are or how many actual Hurak their are.

The people who fled were lead to a stronghold in the mountains, a beauty of a castle, it's walls are large, the soldiers many and the surroundings easy to defend. It truly was the safest place to be if you were a survivor, maybe barring the Imperial City. Once inside, they were told a somewhat surprising but welcome truth. Some survived the attack on the cave, and they were going to attack the Hurak encampment which held them captive. It would be the first outward offence against the Hurak, and the people who had fled from the cave volunteered to join, eager to get a shot back at them.

http://www.gamesas.com/bgsforums/index.php?showtopic=826484&hl= Summary:

A plan was devised and the trap set. They would fall upon the Hurak like a storm, quickly and devastatingly bringing about their demise. While the survivors devised their escape and fought their way out, the group attacked the encampment. The battle was quick and brutal, but the soldiers and volunteers came out on top, aided by the luckily well timed escape of the prisoners. Although many died another Hurak chief was brought down. News is yet to reach Savard of their victory, but a messenger has been sent ahead of the group as they make their way back to the fortress.

Karst has yet to be fully reunited with her brother as she remains unconscious, though she is coming around. Most of the groups injuries have been healed by the mages in the group, and the original group of around sixty has increased significantly to a large crowd of nearly a hundred. There were many prisoners in the Hurak encampment, and their numbers will be a boom to the population of the citadel in the mountains. The group are currently heading up through the mountains after just setting off minutes ago.

http://www.gamesas.com/bgsforums/index.php?showtopic=836479 Summary:

The trip back to the Citadel was not an easy one, in a long near-two hour journey through the mountains tension was high, and a Hurak Shaman attacked twice. The first time, he used wolves to attack them, Haki anticipated his attack and ambushed him as he did so, but the Shaman was too good, he escaped after killing many men, and the group had to travel towards Mountainholm knowing he was still out there.

As they neared it, Haki made the choice to send Iris out to keep a watch for the Shaman. Unfortunately, it gave the Hurak his perfect chance to set up an attack. He knocked Iris out, and used her as bait for the rest of the people. Several attacked, and though he severely injured several (including Lorenna's escort leader, Burd) his attack was mostly ineffective, and he was overpowered quickly. He is now unconscious and silent, Haki and some others plan to interrogate him back at Mountainholm.

They are now just outside of Mountainholm, the castle is in sight of a lot of the group, and tired and hungry men and woman are heading towards it. Haki among them.

http://www.gamesas.com/bgsforums/index.php?showtopic=851269&hl= Summary:

The huge crowd hurried into Mountainholm and waited as they were subject to a speech from the leader of the citadel, Savard. Arybeth met up with her brother, Juliek, and she stayed with him as most of the others began to stream into inns and makeshift homes for the night. While not exactly being overcrowded, Mountainholm isn't exactly short of people.

Throughout the night several things happened; Jalin was offered a place in the military by Commander Haki, who promised him high authority, as if he'd need it; Karst through some unfortunate circumstance ended up in the same house as Arybeth and her brother through the night, needless to say the morning there was awkward; and Savard had a couple of things to do. Firstly, there was the business of Lorenna healing his affliction, or at least keeping at bay for a while longer, Iris also came to see him before having a... 'lie in' with Zant. After she had dealt with Savard Lore went to see how Burd's injuries were doing, and they ended up kissing awkwardly, nothing more has been said about it, though she did stay the night on the sofa.

In the morning Arybeth begun her training with Jalin, it was a hit and miss (alot) affair, with Jalin's methods bothering her brother while frustrating her. Through both perseverance and pure determination she finished the session. Now, Haki is in the dungeons with several others (an imprisoned Fedura for one), awaiting the moment when the Shaman wakes up from his sleep. The mages assure him that the Shaman is fully silenced and unable to cause any problems.

"When the cerulean sky is painted over with crimson, all life will depart, the three will descend in unison."
~C9P3 - Of the Hurak Bible~

Guidelines:

• MESSAGE ME BEFORE JOINING
  
• No Ubering
  
• No killing other characters, unless arranged
  
• Vampires and Werewolfs are allowed, but must be roleplayed accordingly
  
• This rp does deal with some advlt themes and is quite dark in nature
  
• I want a good standard of posts, try to keep one liners at a minimum
  
• More than one character per person is allowed, and is encouraged, if you know you can handle it.
  
• Any obvious stuff that may be missing
  
• Just a note, the scale of this RP is much bigger than the game, there are thousands of people in the imperial city for example
  
• Don't bother joining if the story was too long for you
  
• If you ever want to do anything to/with my characters (I might have a fair few), PM me first
  
• MESSAGE ME BEFORE JOINING

Char Sheet:

Message me if you are interested in joining (you can join at any time), use the character sheet that I have used in the post below this, or use your own, as long as it has all the important details. I'll always make it easy for you to get involved.

P.S - Do not post until I have finished adding the additional pages, cheers.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

Arybeth Domitian, female imperial, age 21. Noblewoman and swordfighter, follower of the nine and reluctant to kill men or mer. Killed by a Hurak Shaman, who then escaped Mountainholm.

Weem-Na, male argonian, 36 a rather friendly, giant blacksmith among others. He's never too quick to judge.

Odeen, male argonian, 31 is a timid alchemist with a soft spot for his friends. About seventeen years of memories seem like they never existed in his mind.

Li'Yen, the Khajiit thief/forger, left the Imperial City as a greenhorn in the area of combat and bloodshed. By the end of the battle at the Hurak encampment, he had found a level of courage and ferocity he did not know he possessed. Although apt to shove his foot firmly into his mouth at the most inopportune moments, Li'Yen became close with many of the group members who survived the Hurak's initial attack after leaving the Imperial City, particularly Karst (drawn to her Khajiit heritage), Weem-Na (the two have saved each other's lives numerous times during the adventure) and Ella (who showed off her forgiving nature by forging a friendship with Li'Yen, who initially managed to piss her off).

Lance Cochrane is a fun loving young man who tends to respond to most situations with humour, although he's also shown recently that he's capable of being genuinely serious and sympathetic when the need arises. He's begun to care deeply for his comrade, Karst, sympathetic to the hardships that she's been through, and has developed a sort of friendly rivalry with another of his comrades, Jalin. He cares for the others of the group as well, and feels it's his duty keep the team's morale high. Missing in action for three days, but found unconscious outside of Mountainholm, awake now and in good health.

Dormiel Lethari, male Dunmer, 57 years of age. Assassin and noble who was born into the Dark Brotherhood but through pity and friendship was allowed into a noble family, becoming a well known politician and steward of Cheydinhal until the Hurak crisis came about. Missing in action after several battles against the Hurak.

Jalin Hel Ansei- Native of Hammerfall, this Redguard is rumored to be the last of the Ansei, the legendary sword-singers who summon the Shehai -a magical spirit blade connected to their very being- in times of deep hardship. Jalin fought in the Oblivion Crisis in Hammerfall, gaining a wound to his left lung at the hands of a Dremora, which occasionally pains him now.

Rather lacking in social skills, he is a master of the blade. Currently, he is Arybeth's trainer in the arts of war. Given a position of power within Mountainholm by Haki, and is now a general there.

Iris Marcy- Spy master of Vvardenfell, she is a mercenary of the sneaky kind. taking the guise of the Dunmeri legend Phantom Maiden in her home Province, she is little known amongst her own people unless they are clients. Active in the Oblivion Crisis, in which she acted as a liaison between the Champions and the Blades, and also fell in love with a certain Khajiit, Zan'Terre. She lived with him in the years following the Crisis, but when the Hurak struck and Zant became a werewolf, Iris reluctantly left him.

Scantly clad for practical reasons -though it would appear otherwise- she is an exotic beauty with an optimistic and humorous outlook on things. She presented the Emperor with one of the first complete Hurak Bibles, and has killed five or six Hurak in her time as Scout/Messenger/Spy for Morrowind border refugee camps. Despite her profession, she is actually rather poor at stealth, and uses Illusionary and Alterative magic to augment her stealth.

Gerald Orius - 29 year old male imperial, former legionnaire captain and leader of the initial expedition. After delivering Zan'Tarre to his sister as he promised her, feels somewhat better about himself as he continues to try and protect the group that has survived so far. Like Jalin, is a commander in Mountainholm now.

Crito Aurrus - 25 year old male imperial, hardy and carefree character, part of the initial group, has developed a bond with Beniamus Revas and intends to join the imperial guard.

Elsybeth - 21 year old female bosmer, illusionist and all round mage, quick to forgive but also has an often quickly changing demeanour. Often has a bad first opinion of people thanks to being quick to anger. Her nickname is Ella.

Savard - Considered a leader of the free people outside of the imperial city, a tactical genius but severely ill. His one wish is to see the Hurak fall and to make everyone free again. Killed by Hurak assassins, the first known instance of Hurak using such means to take any one person out.

Lee - Brother of Elsybeth, and another well known figure among the survivors. Considered dead after the Hurak attack on his hideout.

Commander Haki - Key member of the surviving military, a beast of a man, at over six foot and two hundred pounds. He could match most Hurak for strength. Often leads battles against the Hurak. Blunt, yet tactically astute, he commands respect. After a meeting between the major commanders of Mountainholm, has been officially promoted to Savard's old position, and leads Mountainholm.

Burd - Another soldier in a high position within Mountainholm, often leads scouting parties and escort jobs for people venturing out of the citadel. Knows the lay of the land like the back of his hand. Although he looks older than he actually is, he is still pretty young and only his (green) eyes reflect this. After being severely burnt by a Hurak Shaman, his face is slightly scarred.

Mountainholm - The largest point of defence against the Hurak, barring the imperial city. A massive citadel in the Mountains near Bruma, one of the very few places that openly stands against the Hurak horde.

Karstine Zeterra - Female Khajiiti/Dunmeri hybrid, aged 34 (appears to be in mid-twenties). Though her fiery temper flares up sometimes (recent victims being Jalin and Arybeth), she is usually kind and caring to others, often going out of her way to comfort others. Has slight psychic ability and much undeveloped potential, like all females in her family line, and this allows her extra empathy through a sort of emotional sixth sense. Former thief, mother of 10-year-old Ra'Veldas and younger sister to Zan'Tarre. Has recently found new friends in Li'Yen and Lance.

Zan'Tarre Zeterra - Male Khajiiti/Dunmeri hybrid werewolf, aged 46 (appears to be in mid to late thirties). Ex-Mercenary, elder brother to Karst and lover to Iris Marcy. Was locked in Mountainholm following an attack on a scouting party one night. Gentle and caring to friends, unrelenting against foes. Only recently reunited with his sister and lover.

Ben Revas - Laid back and generally easy going, he has found a good friend in a fellow Imperial, Crito Aurrus. A thief and adventurer by both trade and nature, the crisis has brought out a more noble side to Ben than he had originally thought was in him. Missing in action.

Lorenna Ralas- A beautiful young altmer, a powerful and gentle healer with a deadly sting. She was separated from family and friends in the attack on Chorrol, and has wandered Cyrodiil alone, keeping herself hidden by a mixture of spells, stealth and wits. She lives in Mountainholm now, a lost voice amongst the masses, and haunted by the loss of her world.

Fedura Sarayn - Female Dunmer assassin, age 64. Infamous murderess, she was wanted in four of the major cities in Cyrodiil prior to the Hurak, and was denied entry into Mountainholm on these grounds. Holds unreturned affections for Zan'Tarre and is upset that he is with Iris and not her. Has recently taken a liking to Li'Yen simply because he's the first person that's come up and spoken to her without making demands of her.

Marallyn - A beautiful brunette Imperial with emerald eyes, Marallyn is certainly a head-turning entity amongst the menfolk. However, there is one quality about her that makes heads turn the other way; she is rather masculine for a woman. More often in armor than not, quick tempered and vain, she will snap at something that angers her, and things that annoy her will be hidden behind a devious smile. She served with Crito in the past as a mercenary archer, though a conflict between them arose, names had been flung, and an arrow ended up in Crito's ass for his deeds.

Juliek Domitian, age 26, Lord of Derenthelm. Arybeth's brother, who survived the destruction of their home, but lost an arm in the process. He considers himself Arybeth's legal guardian. Considered dead after being taken away by a Hurak Shaman.

Do'Shar - Khajt general in Mountainholm, generally imposing with white fur and black stripes similar to that of Karst. Best summed up as a panicked thought that went through a guards head, "This Khajit was well known as a damn god with a sword, few could best him in close combat. His temper, too, was well known for being rather short."

Seras Raviro - Quick and deadly dunmer soldier in Mountainholm, recently pissed off most of the commanders after trying to ask for leadership post Savard's death. He was denied thoroughly and left the room, known for not giving up a grudge and being particularly cruel and sadistic.

Hjorn Bear-fist - Commander in Mountainholm.

Samisul Harton - Commander in Mountainholm.

Dimitri Golo - Commander in Mountainholm.

OOC: Hello! I'm back. THanks so much for RPing Lore, Raven, you did a fantastic job.

Name: Lorenna Ralas
Nickname: Lore
Race: Altmer (High Elf)
Age: 25
Gender: Female
Birthsign: The Steed

Focus: Stealth and Healing
Main skills: Sneak, Acrobatics, Restoration, Unarmed Combat, Illusion, Dagger, Alchemy
Class: Healer

General appearance: She is very tall and willowy, with the toned body of one who is athletic without obsession. Her skin is golden and smooth. She has large blue eyes and a heart-warming smile. Her movements are gentle, but agile and lithe. She could be considered an exotic beauty, and though she appears fragile she has fire and steel in her, and an aura of unwavering determination which shows clearly on her face and in her intense eyes.

Hair: Long black hair, worn loose which hangs out around her face. It's thick and silky.
Eye Colour: Murky blue
Height: 5ft7"
Tattoos/Scars: None

Mental Description: She appears to be a gentle heart, but there are so many more layers to Lorenna than just her appearance. Though quiet, Lorenna will always voice her opinion, often in blunt manners- it's just a matter of whether or not she is heard. Despite appearing reserved, she has a wicked and lively sense of humour. She is also stubborn to the last, should her opinion be sought.

She likes to make people happy, and enjoys the company of others without seeking attention. Generally easy to be around, she often fades into the background, a colourful and exciting woman, but easily over-looked in favour of those who speak louder.

Primary weapon: Dual silver daggers, enchanted with shock.
Secondary weapon: Whatever she can find, and her fists and feet.
Clothing/Armour mostly worn: She wears a long black gown, lightly armoured in such a way as to be unnoticeable at first glance. She wears black leather boots that reach her knees beneath this. Attached to her dress is a hood, which she usually wears up.

Inventory: Lots of restorative potions, ingredients, and some alchemical ingredients.

Misc:
-Lore is incredibly outspoken, though her voice never raises very high, as her vocal chords were damaged when she was a young girl by illness.
-For reasons unknown, Lore really likes to collect trinkets and shiny things.
-Lore is a very take-charge sort of girl, but as she is too quiet to be a leader, this merely means she can't be expected to follow orders unless she feels they are a good idea.

Bio: She was raised in Chorrol, always a quiet girl who learned the value of listening in her youth, in which her voice was so damaged she could not talk. She was burned out of her home when the Hurak came, and was forced to maraud the wilderness, hiding herself from the Huraks. She doesn't know what's happened to her family, who she was separated from in the attack.

OOC: I wonder where everybody is? I don't want to necessarily start with the Shaman until I know everyone is here. Well, at least I can go back to my other characters.

IC: Marallyn had left, once again leaving Crito awkwardly trying to pass time in the room. He swore it was as if she loved tormenting him one way or another. Still though, he wasn't without his own devices to keep himself entertained... just a shame he didn't have any of them with him. He approached the fire where the pan was still on the rack. Meat and eggs. He thought; don't get much more butch than that, I swear, she was always the manlier one out of the two of us. She always beat me in arm-wrestles too.

Without consciously realising, he had begun to play with the flames with the poker, watching as sparks danced around the space. It kept his attention for a few moments, before he began to think more about Marallyn. Whodathunkit? Meeting her again here, sure was a welcome surprise, it always helped to know people around anywhere, it was no different here. After a few more seconds of playing with the flames he put down the poker then headed towards the door that Marallyn had gone through.

He leaned against it slightly as he spoke through the wood, "So what do you usually do around here?" He asked, still not sure exactly what she was doing now. "You've never exactly been the 'sit down and wait' kind of gal." That comment was accompanied by a small smirk, invisible to Marallyn through the door.

Updates in Italics

Name: Jalin Hel Ansei
Nickname: Jay.
Race: Redguard
Age: 40
Gender: Male
Birthsign: The warrior

Focus: Combat.
Main skills: Blade, Block, Heavy Armor, Athletics, Armorer.
Class: Ansei/Swordsinger- A rare and dying breed of Redguard warrior, the Ansei is a legendary master of the art of the blade fighting. Stemming from a deep history in Yokuda, they were the ones to migrate to Hammerfall. All Redguards in Tamriel stem from the Ansei lines, but few display the power of the Swordsinger. A true Ansei can summon the Shehai, a manifestation of their very soul into an ethereal blade of mythical power. Such summoning is difficult, and manifesting it into a deadly weapon is near impossible for many. However, to fight against a wielder of the Shehai is to ask for your death. The techniques rumored to be used by the Ansei, such as slicing the very world into two halves, have been lost with time.

General appearance: Jalin is a large man, nearly six feet tall. Muscular like a Nord, yet lean like an Imperial, he is built for battle. He can be imposing, intimidating, and many are inclined to agree with him simply to not get beaten.
Hair: An afro of black hair that is about two inches long.
Eye Colour: Bark Brown
Height: 5'11"
Tattoos/Scars: If he ever took off his armor, one would see the large scar on his left side where he had once been stabbed and healed.

Mental Description: Jalin is a definite warrior, in appearance and in mindset. Eager to battle and shed the blood of his enemies, he is a zealous fighter who will not surrender until he can no longer swing his sword. He is willing to fight alongside others, and teach others his techniques. With a deep sense of duty, stern seriousness, and gruff exterior he looks like a nasty piece of work, but he wouldn't likely kill you unless you personally insult him. And his sense of humor ensures actually insulting him will be hard.

He is blunt and frank, with no tact whatsoever in terms of social matters.

Primary weapon: Elven Claymore.
Secondary weapon: The Shehai. Jalin's Shehai manifests as a claymore that he can wield easily in one hand, an ethereal blue blade of deadly length. However, it is so rare for him to be able to actually summon this blade that often people never see it for the entire time they serve alongside him.
Tertiary weapons: He carries on him an Imperial Broadsword of a rather lack luster condition, with bangs and dents and some rust on the blade. He also has a http://www.battle.net/images/battle/diablo2exp/images/items/weapons/bastardsword.gif, a two-handed claymore with a long handle-to-blade ratio, giving it a little more balance and control than the standard claymore.
Clothing/Armour mostly worn: He wears a full plate of Ebony armor of Cyrodiilic design, but he does not wear a helm. Beneath that he wears simple cotton clothing and moccasins. Hanging from the chainmail links beneath the left shoulder plate of the armor, is a Hurak banner. It falls around his left side, hiding his left arm like a cloak down to his waist. A learge tear in the center allows his arm to go through the banner without restriction. The banner itself is Crimson with various Tribal designs upon it that look almost Daedric, and in a variety of colors. It is faded and bloodstained.

Inventory: He has a belt from which hangs two repair hammers, tongs, and calibers.
Misc: He has trained many years to try and summon the Shehai, and has managed only twice to do so. Both were in times where he was in dire need and the situation seemed hopeless. His sense of duty and determination is what likely drove him to create the Shehai. In a similar situation he would theoretically be able to produce it again, but any other time and he likely would be unable.
-He has taught himself how to repair armor and weapons without a forge, but simply a fire and a rock.
-Though he is athletic and fit, his lung ?part of the scar on his left side- still bothers him during prolonged battle or exercise. It won't kill him, but it doesn't help when he feels the pain and his breath gets shorter.

Bio: Born and raised in Hammerfall, Jalin was trained in one of the last Halls of War of the Ansei. He left for duty in the Hammerfall army at the age of 25, and then the Legion. He was resigned from the Legion after taking a stab wound to his left lung, which left him short of breath for years. Intense training managed to restore his breathing, though it can still pain him today. With his retirement money he bought himself ebony armor and became a mercenary, trying to continue the life of battle he always knew.

When he was young, his parents, both Ansei masters, left him under orders of the Empire. They were ordered to hunt down and kill an escaped convict. The man later turned out to be the Eternal Champion and slayer of the traitor Jagar Tharn. Jalin never saw his parents again.


Name: http://i125.photobucket.com/albums/p76/FC4888/art/Iris3.jpg(Myra, the Phantom Maiden of Morrowind)
Gender: Female
Race: Dunmer
Age: 56
Class: Agent/spy of the Refugees
Skills: Destruction, Acrobatics, martial arts, restoration, Alteration, Illusion, Mysticism, acting, Dagger-fighting

Appearance: Her eyes, red as the fires of Red Mountain. Her hair, black as Ebony, straight, flowing over her shoulders, down to her waist. Her skin, a pale, elegant grey. Her face holds remnants of the innocence of youth, though is a little more mature and less innocent. She is slender, not thin, but physically fit, and her curved, well-endowed form is considered beautiful by most men. She has put on a little bit of weight since the Oblivion Crisis.
(Myra has Iris' fiery red eyes, and her pale elegant skin. However, unlike Iris, Myra wears her hair in braids. Her hair is split into two long braids that fall to her waist. Sometimes, she lets the braids fall across her back, or sometimes she throws them over her shoulder, and the braids run down her chest.)
Height: 5'7"
weight: 122 lbs
Clothes/ armor worn: A tight black, sleeveless boiled leather blouse that leaves her stomach uncovered. A black silk skirt, knee length, with the sides slit up to her hips, to allow free movement, but still clothe. Black sandals. (Myra wears leather boots, knee-high. She also sports deerskin pants and a quilted shirt.)
Pack: Gold, Tamriel map, Health potions. Her pack is black leather, and contains a secret compartment; opened only by a spell that she alone knows exists. It is a prototype enchantment, so often fails. Also, two specially enchanted rings, and an enchanted Mortar and Pestle, given to her by Vivec as a reward for a contract. The rings open a pocket dimension within which the two wearers appear and can speak to each other freely across vast distances. The Mortar and Pestle refresh the enchantment.
Weapon: A silver dagger she had taken from Zant before she left him.

Mentality: Iris used to be prudent, as her brother's teachings and her father's death had made her weary of the idea of men looking at her sixually. Some of this prudence still remains; while she may flirt, she draws a line without hesitation. Only one man has managed to get past this prudence line, but it was because she actually loved him, not his body. She is caring, thoughtful, and a loyal friend, often trying to keep her friends alive at the cost of herself. She would never allow someone to kill themselves or do something that would get them killed. When she goes into 'spy mode', she drops the playfulness and gets serious and nasty, almost an entirely different woman. She does not open up to strangers easily on any occasion, and as her job focuses on breaking trust, she does not trust others quickly.

However, she changes when in a fight. She becomes more carefree, humorous, and even flirtatious, playing with her opponent's mind. Snapping jests at her opponent and snide remarks, all while fighting. Iris also has a very odd view on killing, as she does not want to be the direct cause of death, but does not mind being the indirect cause. She also has her own inner demon, a deadly rage that does not often come forth, but when it does, Iris loses all moral control of herself, killing mercilessly.
(Myra is an opposite of Iris around people, a testament to Iris' acting abilities. Myra is very friendly, very open. She will trust quickly, and be befriended easily. She acts childish at times, but is always ready to defend herself and others. She is always willing to help others. She can even be considered flirtatious at times.)

Bio: Iris Marcy is the younger sister of Vivian Marcy. Her father died at the hands of a murderous gang of prosttutes when she was five, and her mother died two years later of disease. She spent her childhood on the streets, raised by Vivian and stealing to eat. She still had a good childhood despite this, as Vivian worked hard to make sure she had toys to play with, and she made friends with the local children easily. But she knew how hard Vivian worked to keep her happy, and thanked him every day for it, looking up to him as a role model.

As she grew up, Iris showed a natural affinity for magic, so much so that at age ten, the Mage's Guild of Balmora took her in as a student. Yet she always slept with Vivian in the streets, rather than in the Mage's Guild dorms. By 14, she noted Vivian paying more attention to local news about the prosttute murderers that were still at large. She began to spy on the guard quarters, looking for information, but found nothing. However, a year later, she decided that spying was her thing, and when Vivian allowed her to go off on her own, she gave him his goodbyes and thank yous, and began her career.

Iris did not see Vivian again until thirty years later, in the midst of the Oblivion Crisis. He came after she had closed a gate with the group that was to become Champions of Cyrodiil, and her spy-alias of Myra was found out. It took her a time to get the trust of the group, which she had begun to call friends, back. She had been employed, it turned out, by the Blades to spy on the group and record their progress.

She grew much attached to the group, even proclaiming sisterhood with the young Dunmeri thief Selene. She had a hard time accepting that Vivian had become an assassin, which was against her views on killing. She found a friend in Karst as well, but their friendship became rocky when Veyar chose Karst over Iris, and proceeded to ignore Iris. It took some time for Iris to get over this, and her acceptance of it only really began after a jealously playful kiss in an Oblivion Gate.

Ever since then, Iris has proclaimed a love for not Veyar ?though she still fancies him, secretly- but Karst's brother, Zant. Their relationship held even after the Oblivion Crisis, and they moved to Bruma so Iris would be closer to the Blades and could do odd jobs for them. When the Hurak attacked, however, they were forced to flee Bruma.

Iris continued doing jobs for the Empire, however, through her ring-connection to the Blades, and it was she who presented the first intact Hurak Bible to the Emperor, all others before it having been blood stained, burned, or cut to shreds. When she returned from one trip, she found Zant barely alive. A few days before he had been attacked by a werewolf, and the disease was already too advanced to cure. Despite Iris' pleas and demands otherwise, Zant insisted she leave him and work elsewhere for her safety. He promised to keep contact through letters, however few those letters are.

Iris has since been working as a messenger, spy, and scout for the refugees in camps on the Eastern mountains on the Morrowind border, killing Hurak scouting parties and warning refugees before attacks. She even gave a bit of information to Savard concerning the location and layout of some Hurak camps.
(Myra is a local legend on the Island of Vvanderfall, a legend that began nearly forty years ago. She is given the name Phantom Maiden, a reference to her habit of disappearing like a phantom, without a trace. The Maiden is a reference to her stunning, youthful beauty, and the fact that no man has yet to be able to claim that he bedded with her, though one smuggling Kingpin nearly did, but she vanished before anything really happened between them. No one can be certain where she will appear, and how long she will remain. She is a welcome sight, however, as those who have seen her have had good luck for a few months. She has been known to aid travelers and adventurers she meets. Her legend and presence has spread to all of Morrowind now, and the Hurak seem to inexplicably fear the presence of the Phantom Maiden, becoming more cautious and thorough in their attacks against her than brutal and irrational. It is a fear that drives them to change tactics, but not to flee. They seek to end the abomination, but know it requires a different method.)

Dramatis Persona for Marallyn
A beautiful brunette Imperial with emerald eyes, Marallyn is certainly a head-turning entity amongst the menfolk. However, there is one quality about her that makes heads turn the other way; she is rather masculine for a woman. More often in armor than not, quick tempered and vain, she will snap at something that angers her, and things that annoy her will be hidden behind a devious smile. She served with Crito in the past as a mercenary archer, though a conflict between them arose, names had been flung, and an arrow ended up in Crito's ass for his deeds.

OOC: There, persona for my NPC. And I won't answer the question as I may be biased. ^_^

IC post to come after I get my portable fridge.

ooc: Well, Raven, I'm waiting on FC, Zelric and you, so..

But here's my sheets and my last posts for each of my characters with updates on Karstine - Addition of an oddly omitted listing of her various bodily mutilations (Tattoos, scarring and piercings) and a few rewordings in other sections.

Name: Karstine Maranay Zeterra
Nickname: Karst
Gender: Female
Race: White Khajiit/Dunmer
Age: 34
Birthsign: The Thief
Birthdate: 17th of Evening Star, 3E 409

Class: Vagabond
Class Focus: Stealth
Major Skills: Sneak, Light Armor, Security, Marksman, Short Blade
Minor Skills: Alchemy, Acrobatics, Restoration, Unarmored, Athletics

Eyes: Emerald Green
Hair: Dark, blood red. Worn loosely, falls to just below her shoulderblades.
Skin Color: Snow white with quarter inch long white fur. Fur has black striping on her sides and the outsides of her arms/legs.
Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: Karstine's entire body is covered in all sorts of scarring, but the most notable instances of this are the hundreds of healed lacerations that cover her back and the backs of her arms, legs and hindquarters along with the thin gray line on her stomach where she was impaled by a Daedric sword. Her only piercings are on her ears, which are each pierced twice just above where they stick up from her hair on the outside edges with small silver rings. For tattoos, Karst has a small inking of her full first name in Daedric script on her back between her shoulder blades which she claims is 'strictly for body-identification purposes.'
Height: 5' 6"
Build: Thin but muscular. She works out and keeps herself physically in shape despite being a mother as she desperately wants to avoid getting large. Since the attacks began, she upped herself to resuming blade training in case she needed to fight.

General Description: Since being kicked back into combat against her will, Karst has again donned the armor she wore during the Crisis, along with the usual emerald necklace from her late mother. All of her clothing and armor, save her silvery mithril cuirass, are black: old adamantium boots with leather to silence her steps, greaves and fingerless gauntlets made of black leather, one of which has been replaced with an enchanted ice weapon that looks nearly identical to her old right gauntlet.

In body, she is very humanoid due to being half Dunmer: her feet are the same as a human's with the exception of the claws on her toes. Her face is not catlike, but rather has a human look to it. Her hands have claws that she can extend and retract to an extent, but they are small and more like fingernails. Her tail is white with black on the tip and her ears are the same snow color as her fur.

Inventory:

Coat pockets: Note from Zant.

Backpack:

[Main pocket]: Two loaves of bread, satchel of cooked meat, small stuffed bear belonging to her son.
[Secondary (smaller) pocket]: Warm black blanket.

Belt pouch: Eight lockpicks, burnt green crystal necklace, small purse of 342 gold, two random rings and a canister of tobacco, the latter two having been stolen a long time ago.

Shoulder Bag: Used leather bound journal, three quill pens, two inkwells, purse of 95 septims, several apples, random pieces of parchment.

Clothes: Thin but comfortable pair of brown pants and an Imperial Forester's shirt with short sleeves. Wears a thick black trench coat over her armor, the garment obviously tailored to females from the way the sides of it hug her body.
Armor: Worn black leather greaves and fingerless gloves of same material, black adamantium boots with silenced soles and a mithril cuirass.

Other: Emerald necklace given to her by her mother which protects from disease worn about her neck, ring from Veyar on her left ring finger.

Weapons: Silver shortsword on one belt along with an empty daedric sheathing clip, silver wakizashi up a little higher on the same belt as her pouch, As-of-yet unnamed ice weapon, claws. Bow and arrows currently MIA.
Magic: Mara's Kiss [restore health, can be used on others as well as self], Flash Bolt [mid-level shock spell, cast on target], Wind's Companion [invisibility 65 secs on self. This uses up enough of her magicka she cannot cast anything else for at least a couple minutes], Dead Bolt [lock 30pts/add easy lock on target], Trespass [open level 50/average lock on touch], Various minor non-combat spells.

History: Karst's past is a long story of loss and heartbreak. Her parents died when she was six, and her lover died when she was sixteen which led to a deep depression and loss of morality. She was imprisoned for seven years for robbing a noble at knifepoint, during which time she was horribly abused by the guards there, and was released at the start of the Oblivion Crisis. She joined up with a band of adventurers shortly after her release and helped them drive the Daedra from the land.

During her adventures with this group, she met a Buoyant Arminger by the name of Veyar Nydelvu who was sent to help with the fight against the Daedra. They quickly took a liking to one another and fell in love after getting to know one another in combat. After the Crisis was over, she discovered she was pregnant with the Dunmer man's child and wrote to Morrowind to tell him. Since then, he has visited twice a year when his duties allow him, spending time with his love and his son.

Since the attacks began, though, he hasn't been to see them. Karst fears he may have tried, only to be cut down by the Hurak, but still clings to the hope that he still lives. She also worries for her brother Zan'Tarre who had gone to Bruma last she knew, and her friend Iris, whom she assumes is in Morrowind someplace.
Despite all this, she has continued to raise Ra'Veldas, now ten years old, as best she can and is a kind and caring mother.

Personality & Mental Condition:
Karst, in her youth, was fiery and unstable, her abuse and losses leaving her with little hope or feelings of self-worth. Now that she has a young son, she swears a lot less, drinks a lot less and is more gentle-tempered with her son than she has ever been with anyone in her life. With friends, though, she is the same person she has always been. Her emotions are still a little unpredictable, but it has been years since she's tried or thought of suicide.

In general, she is a kind, headstrong woman with a dark and somewhat sick sense of humor. She enjoys playing pranks on friends, telling jokes and drinks recreationally on occasion. She still boasts a fiery temper, though, and displays of arrogance drive her to yelling quickly.

Other Traits/Oddities:
- Dislikes arrogance.
- Enjoys scaring/freaking people out.
- Often resorts to alcohol when stressed.
- Often turns to humor or sarcasm when faced with traumatic things.
- Her fingers are slightly longer than most humanoid creatures her size by about half an inch.

Misc Skills [mostly non-combat]:
- Is a good cook, but never admits to it when complemented.
- Is good at creating medicines from raw ingredients.
- Is slightly psychic. She could read minds through extensive training, but has never trained her gift and barely accepts that she has it. She can, however, usually sense other peoples' and creatures' emotions and feelings because of this.
_______
Name: Zan'Tarre Kanaa Zeterra
Nicknames: Zant
Gender: Male
Race: White Khajiit/Dunmer
Age: 46
Birthsign: The Lady
Birthdate: 2nd, Hearthfire, 3E 398

Eyes: Crystalline Blue
Hair: Snow white [though often dirty greyish nowadays], comes down to mid-back
Skin Color: Snow white with quarter inch long white fur. Fur has black striping on his sides and the outsides of his arms/legs.
Height: 5' 11"
Build: Muscular, yet thin. Looks like he rarely gets enough to eat.

Class: Survivalist Warrior/Lycanthrope
Class Focus: Combat
Major Skills: Long Blade, Heavy Armor, Armorer, Speechcraft, Block
Minor Skills: Athletics, Destruction, Acrobatics, Light Armor, Mercantile

General Description: Zan'Tarre, in normal form, is a somewhat eerie sight. In full combat regalia, he looks as dangerous as any Hurak, and in combat proves that this is not far from the truth. He carries injuries from his struggle with the werewolf that infected him, the most notable of which are the missing chunk of his right ear and the missing ring finger on his right hand, both of which further the dangerous appearance.

He looks very different from a normal Khajiit; his face is very humanoid due to his father being a Dunmer, and although his hair carries the unusual white fur color inherited from his mother, the texture is that of hair and not fur. His eyes are his grandfathers, a crystalline blue color that makes his irises seem to be made of blue glass. His voice is a deep Dunmeri sounding one, though it carries heavy Khajiiti overtones of accent and when whispering or angry, often sounds growling.

Once every full moon, and sometimes randomly at night, he takes on a totally different form. His body morphs into an enormous, pale wolf with piercing blue eyes and long white fur, his hands growing longer, more lethal claws and his fingers growing to about an inch in thickness. His feet and legs morph into thick, muscular, doglike legs and his tail becomes thick and wolflike, though it remains the same length, giving him an unusually long tail for a wolf.

Unlike some lycanthropes, he walks and runs on all fours, standing to his full transformed height only when he needs to to see over something or fight. While transformed, he can exert decent control over himself, though if he is hungry, he has a very difficult time controlling his bloodlust. As a result, he often gorges himself if at all possible the afternoon before a full moon night.

Primary Clothing: Ragged pants and shirt of a brownish color. What color they were originally has been lost under the bloodstains coating the garments.
Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: Four worn metal rings adorn the outside part of his left ear, remnants of gold plating clinging to them in places. A great many scars adorn his body, some from bandits, some from Daedra, some from Hurak. Claw scars going three inches down his right arm from his shoulder mark the day after his first transformation, the injury inflicted in a spike of self-hatred.

Armor: Daedric Boots [A keepsake from the Oblivion Crisis], Leather Cuirass, Iron Gauntlets, old, battered Elven Plate and Chainmail Greaves.

Inventory:

[Pouch on chest strap]: 4 lockpicks, bone armlet that Karst made for him when she was two.

[Small Shoulder Pack] Purse with 312 gold, 6 bottles of poisons, 3 healing potions, letter from Iris.

Weapons: Old, battered Elven Longsword. Once held an enchantment, but the charge has long since depleted. Three steel daggers rest in sheathes on the chest strap for the blade's scabbard. And as always, the claws on his fingers.
Magic: Strong Fireball spell, simple Paralysis spell [just enough to cause a foe to stumble and fall], Summon Skeleton spell, short-duration water-walking spell.

History: At the age of fifteen, the young Khajiit left his village in Elsweyr and his three-year-old baby sister to travel north to Cyrodiil. Zan'Tarre spent much of his teenage and young advlt life as a mercenary, albeit a picky one, but a merc nonetheless. At the age of thirty-four, he met a beautiful Khajiiti woman named Khaseena and settled down in the town of Kvatch with her. He lived with her for nearly a year before the Oblivion Crisis happened, and he was forced to watch a Dremora cut his lover in half.

He spent the next week mourning his loss and seeking vengeance for his lost love. He closed one Oblivion Gate and ventured into many others as support for Legion troops before he met his sister on a rooftop in the City. After talking to her, he discovered she was on a mission with several others to drive the beasts from the land. Wanting to reunite with his sister and protect her from the Daedra, and wanting revenge for his loss, he was all too happy to join.

Over the next few days, he ventured with the group, clearing out a Mythic Dawn den and helping them close an Oblivion Gate. That was where he got involved with a Dunmer named Iris Marcy. What started as a playful kiss inspired by the woman's jealousy of his sister's lover eventually developed into a fully-fledged relationship, and even after the Crisis was thwarted, they stayed together, moving to Bruma so Iris could be closer to the Blades for whom she worked.

Over the next few years they lived rather happily together, Iris doing odd jobs as a spy for the Blades and others, spending most of her free time with him or her brother. When the Hurak came, they were forced to flee Bruma as it was burned to the ground, and took up residence in a nearby cavern. After a while, Iris went to the Imperial City and began working for the Empire yet again, helping acquire one of the very first Hurak bibles ever seen and making efforts to undermine the Hurak invaders.

Sadly, one night when she was away, Zant was viciously attacked by a lycanthrope and infected with Sanies Lupinus. He managed to slay the attacking beast, but infected and having no access to a cure, he was turned into a werewolf as well. Although Iris wanted to stay with him, she left him because of his fears for her safety. He has managed to send letters back and forth to her over the past couple years, but they have been few and far apart, sent with survivors traveling between the two usually.

Recently, he was captured during a full moon and held captive in a refugee fortress in the north, where he has lived for the past few days. He spends most of his time thinking about Iris and Karst and praying both are still alive and well.

Personality: Zan'Tarre is noble, brave and proud, though he rarely overdoes the latter of the three, and usually strives to do the right thing no matter what. He is calm and collected at almost all times, rarely giving in to emotions, a feature starkly in contrast to his emotional sibling. In conversation he is often quick and to the point, though he does have a healthy sense of humor that he exercises often when appropriate. Recently, however, with his infection and separation from Iris, he has become even more subdued and is sometimes rather depressive.

Update: Now that he has been reunited with Iris and Karst, he feels a lot better about himself, though he still fears he may hurt them one night..

Other Traits/Oddities:
- Is left-handed.
- Cannot shoot a bow straight to save his life.
- Is, however, very accurate throwing standard daggers.
- Can read, but can't write well. His handwriting is chicken scratch.

Misc Skills [non-combat]:
- Can sew and make clothing out of just about anything.
- Can make poisons with alchemy, but nothing more.
- Is a proficient armorer.
- Is extremely good at manipulating people when of a mind to.
_______
Name: Fedura Kethra Sarayn
Gender: Female
Race: Dark Elf
Age: 64 (looks about 25)
Birthsign: The Lover
Birthdate: 27th, Sun's Dawn, 3E 380

Class: Arcane Assassin
Class Focus: Magic
Major Skills: Destruction, Alteration, Sneak, Restoration, Speechcraft
Minor Skills: Illusion, Hand-To-Hand, Mysticism, Short Blade, Light armor

Eyes: Violet
Hair: Dark, Blood Red, almost Black. Comes to mid-back.
Skin Color: Charcoal Gray
Height: 5' 9"
Build: When healthy, she is thin, wispy and elegantly built. Considered very beautiful by most. Over the last few years, though, food has grown scarce and she looks more anorexic than elegantly thin nowadays.

General Description: Fedura looks beautiful, but has an ominous aura about her. She is tall, lanky and not particularly strong, though her stunning looks and deadly gaze are enough to overpower most men. She walks with a air of authority and carries herself very lightly and gracefully. Her voice usually carries an air of cute playfulness, but her words often have a commanding feel to them, as though she expects everyone to obey her. Her face is smooth and unblemished, looking almost too perfect to be real. A malicious grin full of pointed teeth usually graces her sharp features and her pencil-thin eyebrows are usually pointed inward in a half-glare.

Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: Four gold rings adorn her left ear, and another rests in her right nostril. She has several assorted knife scars on her arms and a large one on her right side.
Apparel: Wears Dark Brotherhood apparel [Oblivion style, minus the hood], specially fur-lined for the Skyrim area assassins, with a black mage's robe over it. She also usually has a thick black cloth scarf wrapped about her face so it goes around her neck and covers her mouth and nose.

Weapons: Silver shortsword and ebony dagger, on her right and left hips respectively.

Magic: Flame Blast [High-Grade, Flame], Electric Burst [High-Grade, Shock], Feline Leap [Mid-Grade, Jump], Gills [Med Duration, Water Breathing], Waterstrider [Med Duration, Water-Walking], Heal Severe Wounds [High-Grade, Restore Health], Cure Common Disease, Trollforce [Mid-Grade, Fortify Strength for 30 sec] Firelight [Short Duration, Light], Lover's Kiss [Paralyze 10 Seconds, Birthsign Ability]

Inventory: Large travel pack containing a blanket and pillow, two dry loaves of bread and some recently cooked meat wrapped in leather. Lots of empty space.

History: Fedura Sarayn was born in a bandit camp where her parents were killed less than a year later. The bandits raised her, and thus she learned all assortments of curses and swear words at a very young age, and uses them as though they are part of normal speech. Though she never knew her parents, this never bothered the dark-skinned little girl as she grew up. She often watched from afar as the members of the group trained, and found she favored magicka over blades because it kept her away from the enemy.

As she grew, she trained her magickal skills, she watched the world around her in the camp, and when she got better at magick, accompanied them on raid now and then. Growing up around so much fighting and death brought her to enjoy the pain and suffering of others, though, which did nothing to help the already antisocial young woman.

At the age of 27, she broke off from the bandit group and went off to see what else there was in the world, killing traveling people or animals randomly when she became irritated with something. She went from town to town, sometimes staying, sometimes murdering someone in anger and running off.

At age 30, she met her first love, and seven months later, killed him when she found he'd cheated on her with a barmaid. She went through several men like this, some running off, others breaking up peacefully, a few being killed. Though she knows things usually end badly, she can't seem to keep herself away from men, and finds herself flirting with people she barely knows. Though she has had plenty of opportunities to have them, she has never had a child, and never intends to. She finds them irritating and time-wasting.

Since then, she has lived as a murderer and part-time prosttute, torturing and killing people for her own entertainment, or for revenge for something they did to offend her. Though she has a profession of sorts, she has no place of residence. Her bed is whatever soft grass she can find at night, her home anyplace she finds that she wants to settle down in for a while.

At one point in her forties, someone sent the Dark Brotherhood after her for her crimes and she hired Zan'Tarre to protect her. During this time, she developed an affection for the Khajiit that was never returned, once kissing him only to be looked at like she was mad. After two assassination attempts were thwarted and no more came for a month or so, Fedura felt fairly safe and she told him she no longer needed him, but that he could always find her if he wanted to. The two have never seen one another since.

In her early fifties, she was contracted by the Dark Brotherhood, the very people who tried to kill her a few years ago, and offered a place in their ranks. At the time of the Hurak invasion, she lived in a Sanctuary situated in an Ayleid ruin outside of Bruma. The Hurak eventually found the Sanctuary and routed it at the same time Bruma was burned, Fedura being the only survivor because she was out fulfilling a contract. For a while, she lived in the ruins of her old home, polishing off the food reserves. After a year, she ran out and grew tired of hunting after another year and left. Over the past few days, she's discovered Zant's caverns and has been living in them while he's been imprisoned in Mountainholm.

Personality: Fedura is a very mean, blunt and mischievous person, and although she can be sweet and loving, it's rare. Manipulating and often heartless, Fedura gets what she wants no matter what the means are, using whatever she can to meet her needs. Has a foul mouth and temper to match, tells people what she thinks despite what reaction it might evoke, and is generally unpleasant to be around. A couple of her redeeming qualities are that she is fiercely loyal to any friends she makes and has a fairly good sense of humor and playfulness. This can sometimes be exercised at the wrong times though, and she has trouble taking things seriously. Although she may come off as playful and mischievous at first, she has a lot of offensive traits that drive people away from her, though her feline grace and physical looks often lure unwary men to horrible fates. Also, it may be noted she can be rather promiscuous and flirty at times, often when it's inappropriate.

Other Traits/Oddities:
- Her eyes glow faintly.
- Is easily angered, but also calms quickly.
- Is very quiet when she walks.
- Is a wanted criminal.

Misc Skills [non-combat]:
- Is good at deception.
- Can manipulate people easily.
- Handy to have around if you can befriend her.
- Can cook decently, though results are rarely exquisite in quality.

"Nope, I never have been and never will be." Marallyn called back through the door. "Which is why I am a highly active member of the Guard of this stronghold." The door opened suddenly, and since Crito had been leaning on it he fell through, though a now leather-clad Marallyn easily caught and straightened the man out, but didn't let go of his shoulders. She cast him a rueful smile.

"I've been shooting Hurak and wooing guardsmen for a while now, occasionally passing the time with a trip through the woods scouting as well." Marallyn shifted Crito to one side to pass him and move back to the fire, looking at the moved poker. "Next time you want to play with fire, do it in someone else's house." She berated him, looking over the food.

"And you've always been the fooling lad, so I presume you've been wooing women and doing keg stands for a while?" Marallyn asked, flicking her curls of hair over her shoulder to get a better glance towards the archer.
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Iris turned her head to look at Karst, a smile on her face that dropped slightly when she saw the grogginess. She's been drinking. The smell of alcohol was like a sign from the gods blinking bright in the night. Best not reprimand her though, I'm sure she's got her reasons. Iris thought, and wrapped one hand around her back and Karst's, resting her fingers on the small of the Khajiit's back and scratching it lightly.

"Nothing much, just the usual meaty breakfast meal." She replied, then moved both arms to lift Karst's from around her neck, turned in place to face her, and frowned. "I do hope you didn't drink all of that, though. Because you were supposed to save some for in case Zant ever got the courage."
------------------------
Unlike Arybeth, the Orc didn't care about the shallow cut in Jalin's side as the two worked to put his ebony armor on. Jalin was thankful for this. Though it stung, he didn't feel bad, and the last thing he needed was people making a fuss over something so minor. He remained silent as they suited him up, however, since his mind remained on Arybeth.

He didn't want to hurt her, but what other way was there to teach her what he was taught? As he stood there he remembered one of his lessons in the past, in the wooden edifices of the Hall of War and the leather mat on a raised platform at the center. The braziers on the four corners had always burned, always would, until the Master Ansei of that Hall died.

"Jalin." His master barked, and the Redguard youth of six years looked up. A small wooden sword was coming at him and he frantically reached out to grab it, dropping it in his clumsiness. Jalin did not meet the eyes of his Master but looked at the floor in shame.

"It is a skill you will learn with time, Jalin. Now, it is your turn to fight Hirish, and see how you fare." The Master explained, and Jalin nodded, walking up the steps to the fighting platform. A Redguard in his teens was already standing there, standing poised in the Defense of the Bear. Jalin recognized the defense, but he couldn't recall the best offense to counter the opening posture. Frowning as he tried to remember, he took the stance of the Viper, sword near his side and ready to strike quickly. "Begin!"

Scarcely had the words been said than Jalin rushed forward and swung out at Hirish's legs, only to find his opponent had hopped over the attack and flat-sided him in the side of the head.

Jalin closed his eyes as the clasps were adjusted. It had been one of many humiliating days of swordplay in his youth, one of many that had resulted in his unconsciousness for three days to a week at a time. Each time he was forced to face his failure in front of his friends and rivals, and learn to fix his mistake. Each time he felt pain, and each time he was subject to ridicule, embarrassment, criticism, and harsh words. But he wasn't sure he could do quite the same to Arybeth.

"Well, you're set." The Orc announced once he had finished the last of the clasps he had been working with. Jalin shifted in the Ebony, getting reused to the weight on his frame. Everything moved as it had before, everything was in order. Within a minute he was walking around the room with clanks and clinks, as if the armor wasn't even on him and he was simply strolling.

The Orc watched with an appraising eye. He'd known Jalin had to be good with heavier armors to even be wearing that ebony. But watching Jalin move now, it was almost as if the Redguard had been born in armor. Sure, he moved slower -who didn't with the weight of a man or more encasing them?- but his graceful motions remained, his balance was never lost, and he seemed so comfortable in the suit. Jalin moved to the rack of weapons, taking off his bastard sword and the frog that strapped it to his back, slinging it on. The elven claymore followed, and then he removed the Broadsword from the rack and hung its sheath on his hip. His belt came last, repair hammers and a small pouch sitting atop the ebony.

All suited up, Jalin thanked the Orc for his generosity last night, and then left, heading down the street towards the dungeons. He remembered leading the Shaman there, and Haki had presented him with an offer. Jalin moved there now not only to answer the offer, but to speak with the Shaman himself. He had many questions burning in his mind about the Hurak culture, and the Shaman could answer them.

When he reached the barracks it was to see a Dunmer girl -Fedura wasn't it?- being led towards the dungeons by force. Raising one eyebrow Jalin stood beside the entrance to the dungeon, ebony arms folded over his metal chest.

Guess who...



IC:

Li'Yen had been asleep the moment he curled up on the floor beside the bed in his tiny room. He hadn't bothered to wash himself of the dried blood on his fur, or to satiate the protests of his empty stomach. The one, singular thing that was tantamount in his mind, was sleep. The battered Khajiit could think of nothing else. He had been led to a room by a man he could not recall, and shortly thereafter, entered into a deep, dreamless slumber. For the first time in what seemed like an age, Li'Yen was at peace.

IC: Elsybeth headed up the stairs, first room on the right was what he said, she thought, remembering the man who had lead her here. He had been just as willing to eye her up as he was to tell her where to go, she was glad to get rid of him. The cold snow had also nearly frozen her out there, she suspected. Even the thick coat she had worn was not enough to dispel the cold. The door seemed ominous to her for some reason, she hadn't seen Li'Yen since entering the walls, she was worried about him.

With a deep breath she knocked three times loudly, like always it hurt her fingers. I'd be horrible in a fist fight, she smirked slightly despite the pain and waited anxiously for the door to open.

~~~~~~~~~~

Crito grinned widely at Marallyn's question, before shaking his head and replying, "Not for me now Marallyn. I've matured." Although he said that, the smile on his face gave away that he most definitely hadn't, and that he was only waiting for the right moment to do what she had said. He looked down, struggled to find something else to say and looked back up to her, which caused him to smile again, though he wasn't quite sure why. Just being around her was familiar and comforting to him, he hadn't been familiar and comfortable since heading out of the Imperial City.

He sat down on the sofa he had slept on through the night and looked down. "It's been a while now since I've been comfortable with a friend." He said suddenly, his lips only curved up slightly in the tiniest smile. "Ever since I left the Imperial City there has been nothing but death. Death and loss. This place is safe... right?" He looked up, no smile upon his face; his eyes were now suddenly very emotional, even child like. He was being sincere, that was rare for him, especially around a beautiful woman.

Arybeth looked at Juliek, the frustration in her face slowly fading, until it was replaced with a weak smile. He was still Juliek, her brother. He still had that odd charm, a fake snotty arrogance- that was, as long as the arrogance wasn't real. Arybeth stood up and nodded, replying in her best imitaion of a spoilt noble girl:
"Mylord, I am most honoured by your offer, and nothing would please me more than to accept it."
Judging from her demeanor, it seemed as if he'd just proposed to her. She even managed to blush and look at the floor shyly.

Juliek grinned, allthough he caught himself thinking that Arybeth needed to stop being so frivolous, as it could hurt the family name. Of course, there was very little left of the family, and this behavior had become very rare for Arybeth. Actually, she'd been quite somber ever since leaving Derenthelm... No, ever since Julius Domitian had tried to have her married against her will.

"So, shall we leave this place and make for my estate?" Juliek thought of how to adress the issue with Jalin as Arybeth took his arm and they left the barracks together. By the time Juliek had found the right words, the childish grin had left both their faces, and been replaced with a slight look of sorrow, likely because they knew they had to talk about something uncomfortable.

"You seemed very angry during this exercise. I mean, I understand he is not taking you, or me for that matter, seriously. But the way you messed up that practise dummy... That murderous anger is so unlike you."


The sky was bright blue, and the day was no longer in it's infancy as they walked across the courtyard together. Arybeth was unsure whether she wanted to talk about it, but it was nice to know Juliek cared so much. Perhaps he deserved an answer.

"I am not sure. He treats me like a five year old, assuming I know nothing about swordfighting, even though he witnessed me killing some Hurak." Arybeth paused. She didn't want to be praised for killing anybody, but it seemed like the easiest way to be praised at all. She remembered very well how Jalin and Lance had turned killing Hurak into some kind of sport. Whenever someone killed a Hurak, it seemed as if he was given some encouraging remark from someone else. Of all the people she'd met, only that Dark Elf woman seemed different, but given the way they'd met, she would probably not see her much in the future.
Juliek would certainly not mind her killing Hurak, after all he probably bore a grudge against them.
"But I think I really resent him being able to block so much. I get frustrated when I cannot see any result to my attacks. When I killed those Hurak, I could see their blood flowing, I could watch them die. There was a clear result: I do something, someone dies. And when you were teaching me, I could see when my stikes struck your armor, or you had to jump aside to dodge my stike... Even if you won all the matches, I could see which of my attempts were good, and which were not. I missed that, until the very end of the training session. But even then, I couldn't really enjoy it, because I actually hurt him. And he doesn't even seem to care!" Arybeth had been uttering the last sentences with increasing annoyance, and exhaled audibly now.
"There. See, I am just angry for no good reason."


OOC:
Hey! Ezequiel's back! Woohoo for an awesome Khajiit char! In other news, this post is already too long, and I am already too tired. And I might not be active for two or three days, if anything important happens to my chars, RP them as needed.

OOC: And how good it is to be back. B) Hopefully it won't take me too long to get back into the groove. Until then, I'm afraid you'll have to put up with my crappy posts... :shrug:

IC:

Awoken by the banging on his door, Li'Yen sat bolt upright, only to slump back down to the floor, groaning. He had lain curled up in slumber for so long, his limbs had lost all their feeling, and now that the blood began rushing back to his extremeties, he felt the painful pins and needles effect. Gritting his teeth, the Khajiit rolled onto his stomach and, using the bed as leverage, pulled his stiff body from off the floor.

It took Li'Yen several moments to be able to make his way over to the door, hunched over like an old man. As he reached the door, he straightened, his back making a vulgar cracking noise. He sighed, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and finally opened the door.

At first, he did not recognize Ella. It had been so long since he had seen her, he hadn't even been sure she had made it through the battle alive. He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs, stared at her for a moment, then spoke.

"Friend Ella! It makes our heart glad to see you are still among the living."

His throat was dry and his voice weak and hoarse. He looked down at his disheveled, dirty form then motioned to the room behind him.

"We have been asleep for... well, long time. No chance for cleaning or eating. Only sleeping." He sounded almost apologetic. Sleep still clung to him, and Li'Yen went back to the bed and sat on the edge, rubbing his face, trying to fully pry his mind out of it's hibernation.

ooc: Yay, Li'Yen! Somehow I missed that he was an Ohmes-raht until now though..

Also, AMZ has requested I take back the reigns on Odeen for a bit while he continues to sort things out in real life. He also asked me to tell FC4 he's sorry, but he's not gonna be able to participate in Bioshock for a while. That's my Public Service Announcement for the day, on to posting now.

ic: "Well.." Odeen began, then stopped and turned his snout down to his sandaled feet. He didn't want to speak ill of Karst as it almost felt like he'd be betraying her, but part of him knew the older Khajiit was right. Despite being in her thirties now, the woman often acted like an angsty teenager. Her temper was, in most cases, better than it had been and she used harsh curses less often but she was still more or less the same old Karst he'd always known. She's just going through a lot of stress lately. Veyar's not there to love her like she needs to be and she's away from her only son. It's understandable she'd be a bit edgy, but shouldn't she be able to handle it after all she's already been through? he thought, but immediately felt bad for it. He realized it wasn't quite fair to her to expect her to become accustomed to getting screwed, though he didn't think it in those exact words. But.. no matter how much bad you have befall you, you never quite get used to it, do you?

After standing awkwardly and watching Zan'Tarre's tail switch in frustration where it hung off the bed by his leg, he walked up to him and set a scaled hand on the man's shoulder. "A-Are.. you okay?"

Zant looked up at Odeen and tweaked his ears off at odd angles. "Yeah, I'll be fine. I just.." A fist punched the bed in frustration and he sighed. "I just wish I could get her to see how irresponsible she's acting. Karst's my sister and I love her, but.." the Khajiit paused to shake his head and chuckle halfheartedly, "Sometimes.. she just pisses me off, y'know?"

Odeen wasn't sure how to respond to this as Karst had, strangely, almost never taken offense to his worry like she just had at Zant's. In lieu of saying something useful, he just made a little sound that may or may not have conveyed agreement. Zant seemed to sense this and stood, smiling gently and reassuringly at the Argonian.

"It's okay, you don't have to agree. I'm just venting. Could you do me a favor though?"

Odeen wasn't quite sure how to respond to this either. "Uh.. sure?"

"It's nothing big. Just.. talk to her for me if you get the chance. She's much more receptive to that kinda thing from you. I only want what's best for her."

The Argonian nodded and smiled a bit at hearing the simple request. "I'll do what I can."

Zant clapped the Alchemist gently on the back and grinned partially. "Thanks, man. If she gets pissy with you, just say I made you do it. I'd hate for her to [censored] at you for something I asked you to do." That said, he left and went back to his and Iris's room to sit on the bed. Looking at the three fingers on his right hand, he let out a languid sigh, then immediately snorted in laughter. "Becoming a monster once a month ain't just for girls anymore."
_______
Karst, in her groggy and hungry state, took a moment to realize what Iris meant by her last sentence. She spent the five seconds she pondered it with her ears back and a puzzled look on her face before she brightened again and laughed quietly. "Oh! I get it. Proposal. Well, if it makes you feel better, Veyar had a baby with me and still never asked me for my hand." she commented in an attempt to be reassuring. The tiny Khajiit stuck out her left hand and wiggled her slender fingers. "See? No ring. I consider myself his wife for all intensive purposes, but.. it'd be nice to actually be married, y'know?"

Dropping her hand back to her side, Karst smiled in a friendly manner at Iris and stepped aside a bit to allow her room to cook. "But, if you wanted, I could y'know, prod him a bit about it. Tell him I think it'd mean a lot to you and see if he's thought about it himself at all or some such. I try not to interfere with other people's personal affairs too much, but you're essentially my sister. I'd do anything for you."

OOC: I'm planning on having the Shaman storyline kick off soonishly (should have done it yesterday) so if I do that and Aula hasn't had time to reply to FC's post then I'll just presume they both entered the Dungeon

IC: Ella would have hugged him if he hadn't gone to sit on the bed, but instead she stepped inside, closing the door behind her to keep the cold out. It didn't matter though, the room itself was still chilly. "Don't worry about it." She said, kneeling down to the unused fire. "I've only just got up myself- mind if I heat this place up?" While being an exaggeration, that was almost true, she had only been up an hour or so, and she had spent that time locating Li'Yen's room.

She didn't wait for an answer regarding the fire, instead placing her hands upon the logs that were there. Hot flames streamed from her hands lightly, covering the wood before ultimately forming an actual burning fire, the warmth felt amazing to her. "There, that should last an hour or two." She left her hands lingering over the fire for a few more seconds before turning towards Li'Yen, removing the coat to reveal a tight white top and brown leather trousers, the clothes accented her modest figure, but the only reason she had worn them was to try and keep herself warm.

"You must be starving." She said, Li'Yen couldn't have eaten for a long time, what with everything that has happened to him. "We should get some food down you, you'll feel better. They serve food downstairs, I should buy you breakfast." She smiled and brushed her hair back with her hands to get a better look at the Khajit. the morning was already wearing thin, but 'breakfast' seemed the best term for it.

OOC: That's supposed to be Suthay-raht (or at least, he's always been one, until now). Not sure how I managed to mix that up. He's the Incredible Transforming Khajiit!

IC:

Stretching and yawning, Li'Yen turned his head to the left and the right, his neck popping loudly each time. The feeling had returned to his limbs, and his stiff body was beginning to loosen up. It wasn't until Ella lit the fire that he realized how cold he really was after sleeping on the bare floor in only his torn-up trousers. He shivered suddenly and stood up, running his hands up and down his arms.

"Food, yes. This one's stomach has become well acquainted with our spine. We would gladly accept your kind offer."

Standing up, Li'Yen walked over to the fire, stamping his feet, trying to shake himself from the cold. In the past, he would have been wary of standing next to a user of magicka like Ella. His dislike of all things Mage-related was well documented. But he was a different person now, far more trusting and able to accept more than just thieves into his life as friends. Ella had proven to be a strong, trust-worthy ally in the past.

"Much has changed, yes... much has changed..."

He spoke under his breath, not directly to Ella. He got a far off look in his eyes as he stared into the crackling fire. He stood for a few moments, lost in thought, then turned to Ella, smiling weakly.

"This one is ready for eating. Shall we?"

Ella smiled cutely and giggled softly, the way he spoke had always caused her that reaction. "At least it'll be warm up here if you come back." She noted, heading towards the door. She left the room, accidentally leaving her coat behind but not caring. Li'Yen's room was in one of the nicer inns of Mountainholm, she was yet to taste the food though...

She reached the bottom of the creaky stairs and headed over to the bar, the innkeeper raised his eyebrows at her.

"What'll it be love?" He asked, a fake over-used smile on his lips.

"Breakfast for two?" She said uncertainly, not sure what it was.

"Egg and salted meat for two. Coming right up, sit wherever you like." He headed through a door and began barking orders, she chose a table nearby a large window which showed the white canvas of snow outside. Sitting, she began to idly rub her hands together, waiting for Li'Yen.

Marallyn giggled along with his smile, knowing it was completely false as he sat down on the couch. Then he spoke of death and loss, and when he looked up again the smile was gone from his face, and replaced by ten times the emotion she'd ever seen in his eyes. It was like a child cuddling a blanket and asking mother if it was okay to come out of the bedroom.

It damn near well broke her heart to see that. Crito, an upbeat, humorous, spring-back guy being so down and out as to look like a child in the face of danger. To look defenseless and worried. In an ironic reversal of gender roles Marallyn felt the need to suddenly be that defense and courage. he may have called her a w*ore, but she had been called worse -and once killed because of it- and it did nothing to erase the fact that for two years they had worked together to finish the jobs. They'd always been working together. One single name-calling could not erase two years of history between people.

Though it did cause a gap in that history, which was only now being sealed as they met again. So, like the good friend of the past, Marallyn sat down on the other end of the sofa and reached out, grabbing one of Crito's hands. "The only dangerous thing in here is me." She cracked a rueful smile at this, eyes darting to the bow and quiver on the table across the room.


Iris smiled in a flattered way, putting one hand to her chest and leaning away from Karst. "Sister? I'm touched Karst." It had, however, brought back memories of Selene, and also Veyar, and this made her frown. She managed to hold the frown into a tight-lipped smile, though. "I'm not so much eager for kids as a marriage. I'm an elf, Karst. We're about as fertile as the Ashlands when it comes to children. Though I suppose since Zant isn't an elf, that might increase my chances... but obviously I'm not pregnant yet so apparently not." Iris reasoned, going back to her cooking.

Bringing up Veyar in the conversation wasn't the best of ideas, because Iris still found her heart flipping even at his name. And when discussing a proposal to a man who wasn't Veyar, while thinking of the Dunmer... It just felt wrong. So she forced it from her mind.

"It would be nice to find out if he's even considered it once or twice in the decade we've been together, though."

OOC: I'ma going for it now!

IC: "Hey, wake up!" The voices were distant... fading again... "HEY! WAKE UP!" Freezing cold water smashed against his cut and bruised face, though it did not remove the white warpaint that gave him a skeletal appearance. That wasn't distant at all, it brought him uncomfortably close to regaining consciousness. His body jerked. His eyes twitched open slightly before closing. White lanced danced around his vision. More freezing cold water. Another jerk from the body that didn't respond to his commands.

Only now was the feeling returning in his fingers, in his hands, in his wrists- his chained wrists. He was practically stuck to the wall by chains and cuffs, he now wished that he was back to that blank spot in his mind, the pain felt intense.

"He's waking up." A different voice.

His eyes finally opened.

About half a dozen people stood in front of him, a large soldier had the bucket of water in his hand, and decided to throw more on him for good measure.

Vermin. I'll kill them all.

The man seemed to notice the snarl on his face and smiled. "Now he's awake Burd."

"Aye, seems like it." The man named Burd replied, "Oh, and Haki, this is Lorenna, she's a friend of mine."

So that was the big soldier's name: Haki. He'd be sure to remember that. He also glanced at the woman near Burd -Lorenna-.

Using every ounce of energy he could muster the Crimson robed Hurak raised his head to observe his captors better. He tested the chains, moving his arms lightly. They seemed sturdy enough. Now satisfied that he was well and truly caught, he looked back towards Haki, a look of boredom and contempt on his scarred and painted face.

Haki was now slightly lost for words facing the Shaman, "Well." He said quietly to the others, not noticing Jalina and Fedura entering down the stairway, Fedura was being held by another guard who was now more interested in the Shaman. "Anybody want to say anything to it?"

"Let me begin by saying the Shaman is not an it." Jalin replied smoothly, clanking into the room with ease despite being in a confined area in large armor. Even though Haki dwarfed him, the claymore and bastard sword on his back served to increase his appearance of size. "Instead, this is plainly a male." He sounded almost as if he was criticizing Haki for his slander towards the Hurak Shaman.

In a way he was, for Jalin knew that he was the only person in Mountainholm who viewed the Hurak the way he did. Part of it came from the examination of that Bible. The other came from the fact that a single commander had found a respect for Jalin in his death throes. An 'it', a beast, was not capable of respect, or understanding of such a manner. Yet another came from the hospitality of their first Hurak captor. They were as mortal and cultured as his own people, who thrived on war within the deserts of Hammerfall.

He was probably the only one to view a Hurak as a warrior, an equal. And yet still as an enemy and opponent. It was a somewhat mixed, complex, and conflicting view. Jalin remained with his arms folded in front of the Hurak Shaman for a time, before he finally decided on a question.

"What is your name?"

OOC: Glad Jalin spotted that.

IC: An amused smirk spread over the Hurak's face as Jalin spoke, it was actually ironically similar to the one that crossed Haki's face too. Haki let Jalin speak despite the man's tone, he even moved out of the way for him when he walked. Evidently, all focus was on the Hurak, even when Haki silently motioned for the guard who had his hand on Fedura to leave. She was left there, with a chance to leave or stay, though the guard was still waiting outside.

At Jalin's question, the Hurak frowned. "That all depends on who you ask." He replied fluently, now straining to stand fully even under the immense weight of the chains. "I couldn't care less what you call me, Warrior." Although his words were venomous, the word Warrior obviously showed respect to Jalin. "You could call me Tooth for all I care."

"-Fine, Tooth it is." Haki interrupted.

The Shaman looked at him once more with a silent, subdued hate. "Do you know just how many of your soldiers I've killed Haki?" A tiny smile spread over his lips, and Haki began to move towards him. "I'll give you a clue, it is a lot more than there is in this room. And each one screamed." Haki swung his fist, catching the Shaman fully on the cheek. He roared with laughter, "Oh, you punch like a girl!" Burd grabbed Haki from behind before he swung again.

"Calm down will you?" He said, and with great effort pulled him away.

"That's probably good advice." The Shaman said, before looking back to Jalin.

"Would you like to know how many of your kin I have killed?" Jalin asked in return, only glancing sidelong at Haki in a scolding manner. "More than there are in this room. So many more. And each one of them gasped, each one tried desperately to hold on to life as my sword took it from them. I was so close I could hear their gasps, their wheezes, as they died. Only one put his last breaths to good use. And that one once bore this banner." Jalin brought his right arm to his left side, pulling up the Hurak banner to display it to the Shaman.

"Hurak and Tamrielian are no different. We bleed, we breathe, we eat and drink. We both try with futility to hold onto our lives when we die. We both can fight, both can use magic. Our only difference is our opinions on ourselves, and others. For a race of men, your pride makes me think of a High Elf."

Almost as an afterthought, Jalin let the banner drop and continued. "And you, Tooth, may call me Jalin."

When Jalin said 'More than there are in this room. So many more.' Tooth sprang forward, restrained inches away from Jalin by his chains. "GOOD!" He roared. "And by my blessing may you kill hundreds more!" This surprised Burd, who now stepped forward, beside Jalin.

"Well now you've really confused me." He said. The Hurak relaxed, slowly going back toward the wall.

"Why do you think my paint is white instead of Crimson red?" He asked, looking Burd into his eyes with an intensity that frightened him. "Why do you think I stand alone, when every other Hurak stands with his brethren. Why do I end up in chains alone, when every other Hurak would have fought until the end. Why will I die, alone, when every other Hurak warrior will die with his brothers of war." His words became more and more angry and full of rage before the sorrowful last sentence. Once again he was forced to calm himself down.

"I was cast out from my clan." He said, quieter and calmer. "I was too weak; too small." It was hard to believe, when now he stood at over six foot with arms as thick as tree trunks. "Like every other child who was born that way I was sent off into the wilderness to die. But I survived. I suppose they expect you to come back in that situation, be grateful for the experience they gave and become a stronger man. No. I would gladly slaughter every one of my brothers for what they did to me, and I would gladly see every other man burn for that betrayal."

"And every empire will fall. Every monument crumble." He recited the words from the Crimson book without a single pause. "That's what I was told and that's what will happen. The Hurak will fall just like any other empire. They seek to stop this by destroying everything else first. They can't escape themselves though." He sighed. "Every empire falls, and the earth to ashes turn. The lands of my birth shall be my tomb. That is how we will end, and that is how I will end. Nothing has changed and nothing ever will."

Jalin knew the line the moment he had heard it. It had come from the Hurak Bible. Rather than confusion, he showed thought in his eyes, intense thought. Like the kind of a scholar, not a warrior.

"The seventh had seven descendants
The seventh was then divided into three
They were given their first symbols
They bore faces of animals
A Wolf, an Eagle & the Lion

The first was known as magic
and he bore an enchanted heart
A Star of Cyrodiil upon his crest
was his eternal mark

The second was strength,
half a moon was he
A Wolf's head he adorned,
a sword for all to see

The third was Lion wisdom
a mind unmatched
Represented by the shield
the white was his essence
A crystal his defense."

Jalin repeated the prose from memory, looking at the Hurak Shaman the entire time. One of his hands went to his chin, and he rubbed it. "That is what I remember the best from your Bible. Because it is that which confuses me most." He didn't care what the others thought of him reading that Bible.

OOC: I'm off to replace a car headlight and then go to class. Ta-ta-for-now.