OOC: Ok sorry for the delay, here it is.


IC:

The screams and anguish from the quivering wreck on the floor burned through his soul like a thousand arrows from the demonic planes themselves. Each fluttering hand movement the leather face made tore through Tiberius with such a magnitude of magical energy it seemed impossible he could survive it. It was all Kolart could do to stop himself from trying to rip the cage apart with his bare hands and sacrifice himself needlessly to save Tiberius a few moments of physical torment. But that didn't mean he wasn't tempted.

Instead he was laid uncomfortably curled up in the cramped cell, his arms over his ears and his eyes tight shut. Beads of sweat raced each other across his furrowed brow, his lips where puckered so tight to stop himself shouting in protest they where turning white, his nails began to break the skin on his neck as he tried to block more sound out with his palms. But those screams could be heard by the dead emperor himself.

The blood in his veins seemed to quiver with fear with every vibration the screams provided, racing through his body to find a hiding place as his heart pumped faster and faster out of fear. He was lost, he felt like a child again. Unable to save his friend from certain death. A slow, but certain death.

"Master.. Entrance chamber.. Located us." Was all Kalort heard as a weak yet strangely ominous voice drifted through the screams to his ears, well, the few words uninterested by the screams that was. Silence reigned supreme after these words, the silence made Kalort still more weary of his present situation, silence was a virtue barely afforded in this dank hole.

His eyes opened slowly and blood poured gratefully into the now relaxed skin around them, providing some relief to the pins and needles he didn't even realise he had. The leather face turned the mans words over in his mind as if trying to locate a less than tangible ingredient used in creating a questionable wine. He didn't find it, a look of contempt and frustration was all he provided as answer to the statement before leaving the room.

The footsteps grew faint, their rhymical beat on the floor began to change into the plop plop of dripping water, the distinct sell of weed was in the water, a great amount of mould could be seen around the areas it was dripping.

He couldn't help be carry on staring at the gaunt figure beside the door, his cheeks where hollowed beyond belief, he looked as if he was below minimum wage on a payment of food. His lips bulged slightly at the sides but where otherwise thing and colourless, his eyes surrounded by a faint red hue to show signs of possible sleep deprivation. His hair however was unusually healthy in comparison to the rest of his physical features, something you would not expect from one as malnourished looking as him. It was long, sleek, a black as the shadows he emerged from and tied back by a matching ribbon.

His suspicions where heightened some what when the cages opened and the Breton left the room, Kalort didn't feel elated at the current advancement in the situation. For all he knew it was a new game.

.. A new game.. Yeah, he lets us get excited at the scent of freedom and systematically hunts us down as we search for it.. Some freedom indeed. he thought viciously to himself as bodies began to stir around him and started crawling, in some cases, from their cages. He didn't move an inch, he watched them as they bantered and spoke, in some cases taking out their frustration on their cages and making spears from the resulting shrapnel. He stayed where he was, scrutinising each individual person as they spoke. A Bosmer, a prosttute judging by the looks of, and a high class on judging by her general tone and demeanour.

Then there was a peculiar cat like creature Kalort had only seen the type of once when doing a tour of the empire. She looked like an Ohmes, but didn't have enough tattoo's on her face like most Ohmes for him to be sure.

Then a man of such strange accents Kalort was sure he was a pirate or a sailor, the way he spoke showed signs of isolation from the civilised world, and the two missing fingers proved it was probably the former of the two types of sea faring folk. Although he didn't really seem like the "save you're self" type of pirate Kalort was used to dealing with while in the legion. On the contrary, he seemed more than eager to make friends as he shared words with most people who where now up and about. He may have actually be a sailor, the fingers might have been lost while in this prison.


There where two Dunmer, both male. One seemed of a slightly nervous disposition but was also slightly imposing to look at, he had the same glint in his eye that Kalort had come to expect from Adamus Philida, gods bless his eternal soul. He seemed slightly shrouded, but then again, who didn't in this place? The other however seemed to be questioning the very reality of the situation. Kalort couldn't blame him, if he thought his imagination was capable of dreaming up such a macabre scenario he would put it down to a bad dream as well.

With some effort, fighting against the growing cramp in his legs from being curled up in his less than accommodating cell, he began to crawl forward through the poor excuse for a door. He must have been placed in their for a joke due to his size, he noticed the Bosmer girl had a larger cage than he. But not by much. Or maybe it just looked so large because she wasn't.

Now on his feet he stumbled forward, his bare feet numb with the cold of the damp floor, bleeding in places and bruised in others, his body was a canvas of injuries. Not surprising. His vision was tunnelled onto one destination, Tiberius. He heard words from the others but didn't stop to see if they where talking to him, he carried on stumbling forward. Gaining drunk momentum as his feet combated the slick floor.

Tiberius was still jerking about, although less violently than before. He looked like he was nursing a nightmare in his sleep, though his eye where very much open, and screaming in silent agony.

"Church! Are you ok church?" He spoke fast, panic pooling in his stomach like a vat of boiling water, turning to ice as Tiberius looked upon him and spoke.

"Av molag anyammis, av latta magicka. Suna ye sunnabe. It comes." his voice was a strangers, Kalort had not heard such hoarse words come from Tiberius, not even after fighting the Daedra and burning their lungs on the smoke of a burning city had he heard him, or anybody, speak in such a way.

"Church? Are you ok? [censored]!" He shouted the last part as he touched Tiberius' shoulder and a flash of blue light shot from his flesh and into Kalort's hand momentarily lighting the dank room and providing an ample dosage of pain for Kalort. No doubt it was the remainder of the magic coursing through Tiberius had just discharged from him into Kalort. "Are you ok? Can you walk?"

A few seconds and no reply, Tiberius just lay their, his breathing began to slow and he stopped jerking and shivering altogether. Kalort panicked for a moment thinking he was fading from life, until a weak shake of the head came from him and his eyes re-opened.

"Ok, I can work with that." He muttered, scooping him up easily into his arms and lifting him onto his shoulder. It wouldn't do much good if they got in a fight, but it would help them move faster than is he waited for Tiberius recover enough to walk on his own.

"Move." Kalort snapped, towering above the Imperial pirate as he shouldered past him toward the door the Ohmes had just left from. A slight dilemma presented itself however as he left the room and entered another, a large rectangular room, two doors on each wall. A baron room devoid of life. No decoration, just a few filled torch brackets on the wall. Nothing more. "Process of elimination maybe? Or just chance a lucky guess?" he asked himself, though he was stood next to the now strangely acting Ohmes, he might has well have asked her the question for all the wisdom it would provide.

Taking a torch from the wall he used the light to guide him over the uneven floor, careful not to trip and drop Tiberius on what seemed to be an already damaged head. Guiding himself slowly to the nearest door.

No lock he thought to himself as he swung the door open. [/I] This guy is either not to big on security or just to arrogant to think he needs it.. What in the nine divines..[/I] It was definitely not a dream he thought as he walked into the most horrifying display of abominations nature had ever, however grudgingly, provided. A number of tanks lined the room. Each occupant was deformed and unnatural looking, some had features of incompatible races. Mixed Khajiit with Orcs, Argonians with Dunmer. No result was a beautiful one.

"I recognise this one, well.. Half of this one, I'm sure that's the Orc who was in the cell next to me when we first arrived, I remember him telling me he was going to make a break for it one night. When I woke up he was gone." He muttered, still talking to Tiberius in the hope that a response would come, some reassurance of his sanity and well being. "Hey, look at this one, she's different. She looks almost natural, Without the horns she would be something to consider." he added as they met a new tank, trying a little to provide some humour to coax a reaction from Tiberius.

He stood looking at her for a few seconds. Her skin was pale like a Bretons, though a number of bright red scales where placed among her body, between her briasts down to her stomach and along the outside of he arms and legs, some could also be seen flowing down her spine and grouped around her shoulder blades. Horns protruded from a thick shock of dark wavy hair, which floated neatly around her in the water, giving her a somewhat eerie look. Though some beauty in her visage could not be denied.

"What has he done to these people?" Kalort asked to himself, in awe at the creations, disgusted by most but curious about some. They where all dead, floating lifelessly in their tanks like aborted creations the leather face had grown bored with.


"Alive.. She's.. Alive." Tiberius' weak voice whispered for the first time, not the unfamiliar hoarse voice. It was his own, relief flooded the icy pits of Kalorts panic ridden stomach and thawed out his fear for his friend. Soon to be replaced by a growing sensation of anxiety as he stared at the woman before him.

"But.. How?"

OOC: OK, I'm finally approved.

Name: Sorian
Nickname: Black Spider
Race: Redguard
Gender: Male
Age: 22
Birthsign: the Thief

Physical description: Sorian is not the tallest of men (5'5"; 165 cm). His figure is light and slim, his limbs full of wiry muscles. He can lift his own weight single-handedly. His hands and feet are quite small, his fingers delicate and precise. His skin is almost completely black, therefore he stands out even among other Redguards. His eyes are dark brown, almost black. His hair is also black, long and straight; sometimes he puts it in a ponytail, sometimes he makes a braid out of it. All in all, only the white part of his eyes and his perfect shining teeth can be seen clearly. He possesses some minor cuts and doesn't bother with tattoos. He believes he is interesting enough to look at without any adornment so he wears no jewelry at all.

Sorian is an able acrobat. He is agile and nimble. The phrase 'he lands on his feet' stands literally for him. He takes pride in his muscularity as it not only looks nice but enables him to climb the tallest of buildings. He's an exceptional cat burglar; can climb a seemingly smooth surface of a wall; some of the shadier Thieves Guild members have dubbed him the Black Spider. He is flattered by the nicknames people give him. His skin makes him hiding in dark places very easily.

Armor/Clothing: most often, Sorian wears pants of simple cloth, a sleeveless shirt, often open in the middle to expose his chest. He wears sandals but is often barefoot, especially for climbing. When travelling he will be wearing a cloak and boots. He carries no armor and is uncomfortable with the whole concept of armor.

Weapons: a shortbow and some arrows. Dagger is his primary weapon though he rarely uses it. He also owns a katana but he has never used it before.

Mental Description: Sorian likes to pretend he is shy. He is not actually cowardly yet he prefers to run away than to fight. He will do battle only if he has no other choice. When he fights, he fights dirty. When he hears the phrase 'fighting honorably', he thinks it is a joke.

Sorian is incredibly able with his hands. As a result, he can pick almost any lock and disarm traps most efficiently.

He has an affinity to collect jewels, especially rubies and sapphires. He has a fascination over the Nirn's two moons. Also fascinated over Khajiit and their culture and strives to learn their language.
He prefers to rob wealthy people. He is not a cut-purse, but a thief who only takes from those who have plenty.

He likes to smile, but not to laugh. He knows his face is difficult to be read because it is so black, he likes to use facial expression to mystify women. He adores women and is not picky on their race, as long as they are beautiful. He stole the hearts of many maidens and he often took something else as well from them. He enjoys talking, especially with women. He tends to use poetic phrases to mystify those he speaks to. He has a great ability to charm. He doesn's like to argue. When pushed into a corner, he will most likely stand motionless. That is when Sorian is most dangerous. When he's angry he becomes similar to a lizzard: motionless on the wait, deadly on the attack.

Sorian believes he is the handsomest man alive; he likes to look at his own image in the mirror. He likes to put his hair into order. He takes all the necessary time to groom it and also fidgets with it when he is nervous. When he has nothing to do or if he is waiting for something, he puts his hair into a braid and then redo it all over again. He never gets tired of it. He believes women love him because of his hair. He enjoys impressing himself and others. He is a perfectionist and cares deeply for performing any task perfectly.

Brief History: Sorian was the fruit of a chance meeting between a Blades soldier and a prosttute, both Redguards. He joined a travelling circus at the age of ten, never looking back. He learned to become an acrobat. One of the circus people was a thief who used the circus as a disguise. He taught him how to pick locks. Soon, Sorian went off on his own, seeking fortune. He came to the Imperial City, found a job as a servant to some rich noble family. This was his disguise. His employers often sent him as a courier to other noble houses. Upon this visits he learned the layout of the buildings and what valuables are they holding. Later, he would break into those houses and steal what he desired. He found hidden pathways over the roofs of the City, using them to move unseen across the capitol.

On one of these journeys he killed a man in self-defence. The man rushed at him and kept screaming something about 'his turf'. Later it turned out that this was a member of the Thieves Guild. The Guild did not like the fact that he killed their man. They grabbed him one day, drugged him and took him to a secret place to interrogate him and possibly kill him. He managed to persuade them that he is worth more alive than dead and that he killed only in self-defence. They allowed him to become a part-time member of the Guild and to pay the debt in the loot he would bring in. He also found instructors in the Guild who taught him to set traps to protect himself and how to use a sword and bow. Also, he learned how to disable a person using only his hands and feet. Once he stole a silver katana from a noble's house and he decided to keep it, though he never used it in a real fight.

The Guild wanted him to become a full-time member. They found him an apartment in the shady part of town but Sorian soon realized he does not wish to be bound into service as they had clearly planned for him. The fact they found him a place to live suggested they wanted to know where to find him. Sorian did not like to be predictable. Instead, he found himself a couple of hideout places all over the City. Most of them are in high, unreachable areas. Sometimes he even camped on top of White Gold Tower, where the Dragonfires used to burn.

One day he broke in a heavily guarded manor in the rich district of the Imperial City. He was forced to abandon most of the loot but still managed to get away with enough of it to call it a successful job. He went to one of his hideouts and fell asleep exhausted after a long night of action. He woke up in a cage...

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

IC: Sorian was awake though he was careful not to reveal this fact. Whatever it was these people wanted they would have to wait for him to be awake and he was firm on prolonging his act as long as possible.
He didn't need his eyes to probe the surroundings. He could feel the cold and the damp, smell the rot, hear the moans and screams all around him.
Not something I desire to wake up to, he said to himself.

The metallic bars around him were slowly swinging and he was moving with them.
Not on the ground, that's for sure.

He realized he was dressed in nothing more than some rags. They were not his clothes. He slowly reached for his hair. It was loose and thoroughly combed through.
Whoever they are, they are no fools, he told himself. I had a lockpick hidden in here.

He heard someone approaching. There were some more screams, some closer than others. Just pretend you're out, Sorian kept saying to himself. But deep down he knew that if they wanted to hurt him, they will not politely wait for him to be ready for it. He could feel fear now and he did not like it.
It is one thing to be cornered in a dark alley and quite another to be stuck in a cage. What is there for a man to do?

Then something was happening. He couldn't decipher everything but the one who was doing most of the talking was about to leave. Something is not right. Is that good or bad for me?

The metallic noise interrupted his thoughts. Have they come for me? Have they finally seen through this masquerade? He waited, motionless. No hands came to grab him. Finally he risked and slowly opened his eyes. They were already adjusted to the darkness so he had no trouble detecting the place. The cage that was his habitat for who knows how long, was open.

This has to be a trick, he commented silently. What will happen if I try to leave?
He looked around himself, checking for hidden traps. He took his time ? in no rush to be killed for the sport of his captives. There appeared to be none. How far was the floor? After a moment he estimated: close enough.

There were other prisoners there as well, he knew that from the screaming. Some of them ? the live ones, at least ? were already walking outside of their cages. Some were motionless, still wary of snares like Sorian himself was. Time passed, words were exchanged and nothing happened to the people who left their confinement.

These people were ready to try to leave this place.

One of the prisoners ? an Imperial, apparently ? had already armed himself with something that resembled a spear. The Imperial turned to those who were still in the cages and spoke:
"Alright folks, it be safe ta come out."
A sailor, perchance? He does have that lurch in his walk.

Another prisoner was there, an improvised spear in his hands as well. This one moved more smoothly than the Imperial.
This one definitely looks more dangerous.

Well, thought Sorian. Either this is a beginning of some sick game or the trap is quite elaborate. If they are indeed clever enough for me not to see through their scheme, I'm willing to take the chance. At least I won't be killed by an amateur. That would be such a measure of poor taste.

He chuckled to his private joke and lunged forward. He was out of the cage in a blink of an eye. He spun his body in the air, landing lightly on the ground quite close to the other armed prisoner, balancing his weight on the balls of his bare feet, prepared to leap if any form of danger presented itself. He wanted to be close in case the man proved dangerous. He believed he could handle an opponent, armed with a long-range weapon, from this distance.

"Mind if I join you, friend?" he said with his musical voice.

OOC: Peleus' is approved now, right? I want to respond...
IC:

Nola gazed at the woman in the tank, eyes wide. "Alive..." she whispered, her tone horrified. Her expression quickly became one of anger.

What sort of sick creature does this? Creates these... things and then leaves them to their fate, dead, alive, or in awful pain maybe... And look at her- in a tank, like some exotic breed of fish!

"We have to get her out," the ohmes hissed, turning to gaze at the men stood beside her. "This isn't right. Nobody should be caged like that... at least we had room to move..."

It was true; the woman was curled up, not even room to extend her legs and tail. "Get her out..." Nola said again, authorative. She looked around. "Where's Seltaire? We need to break this thing!" She hammered on the side of the tank.

The lizard woman's tail twitched.

OOC: Yep he's approved.

"Get her out.." The Ohmes spoke, with an air of authority in her voice which forced Kalort to think of his days in the legion, even so he agreed, no matter what manner of creature she was, she didn't deserve to be caged.

"And speak for you're self, my cage was no bigger than a crate, I still have cramp." he spoke in an undertone, bending down and depositing Tiberius on the floor away from the tank.

He looked around at any possible tools he could use to break the tank, seeing none he removed his blue suede shirt and tore a sleeve off, it was ready to be replaced after this ordeal any way. Passing it with the torch to the Ohmes.

"Stand back, watch out for the glass and water, I'm going to smash it." He said, wrapping the sleeve around his fist to shield it from the glass as best he could, not as useful as a gauntlet per-say, but it would have to do.

Releasing a shout, something to psych him more than anything, his fist broke the glass and plunged into the icy water. The contents began to flood out onto the ground immediately, Kalort was lucky to catch the creature within as she came with the water, knocking him onto the floor. He sat with her head resting on his left arm, supporting her and keeping her naked flesh away from the cold floor. Not that it would make a difference after being in an ice cold tank of water. The other hand was held out to the Ohmes.

"The shirt, she will have to wear it. Its big enough to fall to mid thigh, it will have to do for now." He said to her, noting the blood dripping from his fore arm, mixing with the water on the floor like a crimson ink.

Seltaire watched as an Redguard came out, carrying an Imperial with him and speaking to himself, or the Imperial, or all of them. He wasn't quite sure.

Regardless, he followed as soon as the man had exited, mainly out of curiosity, and by the time he'd reached to room the Ohmes and the Redguard had stopped in, the Redguard was already on the floor with a naked woman/lizard/thing on him. And a pool of blood. The Ohmes was carrying a one-sleeved shirt as well. The sailor put two and two together and got four easily.

"That was mighty stupid of ya, mate. I coulda smashed it without any blood, ya know. This wood's sturdy 'nough." He told the Redguard as he approached and dropped the spoken of spear, placing his arms under the woman's armpits and lifting her off the man. His boots slipped in the water and he lost his balance, sending him onto his ass with a naked scaled woman in his lap.

"What is she anyways?" He asked, propping her up on his lap and looking her over curiously. "I ain't seen nothin' like this 'fore."

Nola nodded, but did not surrender the shirt, instead handing the redguard the torch. "Not the most efficient way of doing things," she commented sarcastically. "Some folks had weapons, but I admire your quick-action, anyway..."

She knelt beside the redguard and gently shifted the naked female into her own arms, looking pointedly at the males. "It isn't decent," she explained. "Besides, you could turn out to be a well-meaning but sneaky pervert, for all I know."

She glared at Seltaire, who seemed to want in on the action as well. "You too, sailor."

Just like I could turn out to be a sneaky and poor-meaning pyschopath for all you know... she thought with her secretie smile. She awkwardly got the shirt onto the cross-breed as she began to stir.

The woman in her arms blinked and her tail began to thrash. "What's going on?" she looked all around. Her hands went all around her as she felt the floor, discovering she was no longer in a tank.

"I could ask you the same question, stranger," Nola replied. "What's your name?"

"Denselle," the woman replied, then frowned. "No... Odessa. My name is Odessa." She lifted her hands, studying them in the flickering torchlight, her expression bewildered. "I don't... remember these..." she said haltingly.

Nola watched her with pity. "That's alright," she said, and helped the woman up. "We need to get out of here. Come with us..."

Odessa looked around, confused. "Yeah... okay..."



OOC: Edited.

"Mind if I join you, friend?"

Barzuls' heart jumped, his voice sounded to calm to be of a tortured prisoner. Barzul could barely talk at the moment, he was so shook up from the events of the past few weeks.

Lightning fast and agile as a cat he spun around and attempted to thrust the spear forward, but the weapon slipped out of his untrained hands and it flew into the wall, not even remotely close to the person that spoke. The dark elf looked up embarrassed, he saw a short, but muscular redguard standing in front of him. He slowly posed himself in a battle stance and took a good look at his opponent. I'm not sure if I can take him, at least not in this condition. Barzul though, he looks like a professional fighter, or an assassin, he had met quite a few of this type since he discovered the Dark Brotherhood.

"I don't want to fight you" Barzul said calmly, but still ready to jump in case the other person didn't agree with him.

Seltaire simply sat there in the cold water as Nola took the woman away, and cracked a grin along with a shrug. "Eh, not like it wouldn't be fittin' me stereotype ta think so. She's fine lookin' mind, but them scales be what I'm gonna stare at." He explained, nodding at the woman as Nola dressed her and she began to stir.

"Denselle... No... Odessa."

"It's alright, lot's o' us havin' bit of trouble rememberin' stuff." Seltaire spoke up as the woman agreed to come with them. He held up his hands and wiggled his fingers with a childish grin. "An' ya ain't the only one not rememberin' things 'bout yer hands. I seem ta have forgotten me fingers." As Nola expressed the desire to get out, Seltaire planted his boots on the wet floor and paused, as if getting his bearings, before springing up easily into a standing position. The spear was off the floor not a moment later, and he splotched towards the exit of the room, making little splashes of water as we went but seeming at home in the puddles.

"I ain't ever had much luck, bu' maybe I should pick the next door eh?"

OOC: dang it, things start gettin' interesting and I have to up and leave in a few minutes. AND I will be gone this weekend! Soldior, I'll pm you with an idea on what I can do concerning that.

Odessa looked around, confused, her dark eyes wide, pupils expanded to take in more light. The beings around her didn't look like her, but they seemed more familiar to her than she did.

Looking down at herself, she could see there was definately something wrong. Had she had a tail before? She thought maybe she had, but then there were definately some memories that said otherwise.

And this skin... wasn't all of it supposed to be scaled?

She was so very confused. "I can support myself," she informed the woman holding her, feeling the urge to be her own woman, to be independant. She resembled something she recognised; a bosmer, but clearly was not.

Is she like me then? Odessa wondered. Something strange? Something that doesn't make sense?

She was put at ease by the sailor's words that others were having trouble remembering things, but it did not seem to be so for everyone. Why can't I remember? she wondered. Why does nothing make sense to me? Why don't I remember myself? Her tail swished in frustration, knocking into the tank behind her and causing the tortured orc-like creature to drift.

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

Nola nodded as the woman stood on her own, appreciating another independant spirit. "That's alright," she replied. "Let me know if you need any help."

The khajiit's eyes moved to Seltaire, fixing him with her piercing amber gaze, a feline gaze behind an elvish appearance. "If it's locked, let me know," she said. "I have a way with locks, you see..." She patted her pocket, where her makeshift lockpick lay, but that was not the whole truth of her skill. Her magic, and her birthright, played large parts in her ability to get into and out of places that were barred to her. Nola refused to be anything less than master of her own world, Warden of her Tower.

Thinking of that, she discreetly sniffed the air again, the magical aid to her sense of smell picking up on those around her, but the walls in this place were thick, and currently, she could not sense any others beyond the prisoners.

"By the way," she added, her expression solemn to the untrained eye, but that secret smile in the corner of her lips once more. "If you choose wrong, I'm holding you responsible."

OOC: No problem FC4, I've approved you're idea, go ahead and put it into action.

IC:

"On the Ohmes, go ahead and smash another tank with a spear and watch the body inside get impaled on the glass." He spar, standing up and wiping the blood from his arm with a bare hand, feeling a little stung at the lack of appreciation. "My way, I caught her, she's alive isn't she? And a little blood is nothing compared to what Church is going through at the moment, he's speaking languages I haven't even encountered before. And, Ohmes, imply that I'm a pervert again and you'll be living in one of these tanks, its not a word in my repertoire. If I was, I assure you I would have kept my shirt for warmth."

All the frustration knotted inside him loosened as he ended his rant, feeling a little guilty however, he picked Tiberius up again over his shoulder and began to walk across the glass strewn floor.

"I'm sorry. I Didn't mean that, my temper is easy to boil in situations like this. I'm Kalort Torka, this if Tiberius Church, Not that introducing him matters much while he's passed out. But you know, manners and all that." He said to the Ohmes, The lizard woman was now moving of her own volition, quite awake and quite aware of her situation. "At least you remember what language you're supposed to be speaking, I'm sorry for what ever happened to you. You can put it right one day. Lead the way digits." he called across the room to the eight fingered Imperial.

I don't want to find any more creatures like this.. Knowing my luck the next room would be a mating centre for Daedra..

[OOC - checked one hour ago and a whole pile of things happen in that short while - we all must have been waiting for Solidor]

As she moved along with Nola, Jimrii saw in the next room what she might have smelled - a room full of large glass tanks with... things inside. Thre's no other way she could wrap her mind around them. I knew this bastard was sick, but how deep can he dig ? He makes Sheoggorath looks like an amateur...

As one of them turned out to be alive, and seemingly smart enough to talk, she barely held an urge to throw up. No wonder none of us as seen the like of... her before. It's a safe bet there never was one before leatherface made them. I don't even start to think about why or how, or even when...

As the creature... Not creature, it's a person, battered and tampered with beyond recognition, but still a person... or maybe two. Who know what he did to her seemed distressed with having trouble remembering her, she attempted some explanation.

"I don't know for sure, but you seems to have been there for longer and have had a shorter end of the stick than any of us. It looks like that thrice-damned piece ot trash of a mage changed you a lot from whoever you might have been, I don't want to know how.

No wonder you have troubles figuring out who you are when the bastard warped you in a guise that I don't think has ever existed before."

Noticing the redguard's bleeding arm, Jimri focused her mind on something easier to cope with. "If you're injured, I can do something about it. I know some healing magic, nothing to write home about, but enough to patch some damage. I know it's not legal, but from what leatherface as used, I'd say I can use it. Kalort, it looks like you can use some of it."

Nobody paid Farin any attention, he stood there and watched quietly as others emerged, walking straight past him and out of the room.
My dreams are supposed to be about me...
He thought as the scene unfolded infront of him as though he wasn't there. It was certainly an odd experience. By now most people seemed to have vacated the room apart from a pair, a Redguard and another Dunmer who managed to make a fool of himself as the redguard spooked him. Convinced that he was more of an observer than an active member of this strange scene, Farin wandered out after the Imperial, who in turn was following a second Redguard who had been carrying a passed out man on his back. As he walked, his body ached and Farin grimaced at the pain,
Observing shouldn't be quite so painful
Farin was in two minds on his situation, the dream was certainly very elaborate, everything felt unusually real and there was nothing to suggest that this wasn't reality, on the other hand... Farin was quite certain that he'd last been out hiking, not underground at all, the only thing he could remember after going to sleep under the stars was this, and other nightmares. He'd gradually become aware that this was a dream during one of the many broken episodes of pure pain that had punctuated his life, he'd felt himself become... lucid, he thought that that was the word... He hadn't had full control but he'd found that for a lot of the time he could drift somewhere more comfortable, he'd had some level of control over the nightmare and that had been comforting. Things had changed however, this time was too different from the others, he felt like he'd lost control. It was quite unsettling.

What he saw as he turned the corner, after what felt like an age's worth of painful shuffling, made his previous dreaming seem real.
There is no way I could come up with something this sick...
Farin thought as he gazed transfixed by the eerie jars containing freakish mixed beings. A group was gathered around one that seemed to be awake, he recognised the Redguard and the two Imperials from the other room but the others seemed to have come from nowhere. The creature they were gathered around seemed to be a twisted mix of Breton and Lizard, the girl in question, who would otherwise have been considered quite pretty, was covered in scales and Farin thought he saw a tail half hidden by the crowd.
"Vehk! what are you?"
The exclaimation was aloud though Farin, feeling secure in the knowledge that he was but an observer to the events, didn't see any reason to keep quiet.

OOC: Leatherface needs a name, until then I'll be posting for him under the name of Leather face =)

IC;

Kalort

He paused a minute as the prosttute spoke to him, he was impressed that a curb crawler would know magic, being in Cyrodil no less. His opinion of her stayed the same however, knowing magic was illegal. And after being subjected to mental and physical torture, he didn't have to wonder why.

"I am fine thank you, It's a flesh wound. Nothing serious. We need to get moving, I need to find an alchemist to help Church." He muttered slowly, weighing each word carefully to make sure anything of an offensive nature didn't make its way into the sentence like it did with Nola. "And lord knows where in Tamriel we are, if we even are in Tamriel."

He knew one man who could help Tiberius, but he was in the Imperial city, for all Kalort knew they could be in summerset or Highrock. Gods forbid what would happen if he didn't get help soon.

"Pirate, get a move on if you want to see salt water again, I don't want to stay here any longer than I have to." He said, nudging him in the back with his elbow as he made his way to the door.

Leather Face

The shadows seemed to move away from him as he traversed the hallways. As if they feared his embrace, the air itself stilled in his presence while a storm raged within him, old memories replaying over and over again in his mind. He couldn't differentiate the memories any more, it was like staring at a reel of blurred images.

"I can rebuild it. Recontruct it. I just need to find what I need.. I could create a vessel for it to reside in." An excited frantic young voice spoke into a well lit semi circular room, it was an elegant room. It was tiled with cobalt blue tiles on the floor, the walls painted with images of summer and fall, her two favourite seasons.

"You would create a monster." a gentle voice replied to his frantic ramblings', she had long since grown used to these talks when he discovered new ground breaking magic's and research. "You know it in you're self, you would create a monster."

He paused for a minute, looking up into a mirror to see the slender body of his lover lying across meadow green sheets on a large bed, completely naked but tastefully hidden, her porcelain skin complemented perfectly by her long flowing auburn hair. She had bright blue eyes which could pierce the soul of Tiber Septim himself. A flawless beauty in his eyes.

"Don't be foolish, I would create something beautiful, almost as beautiful as you." He said, looking at himself in the mirror. He was handsome, a chiselled face stared back at him, his high cheekbones and arched eye brows frames two almond shaped hazel eyes. His strong jaw line sweeping around under thin lightly coloured lips. The overall effect was pleasing to the eye.

"Then you would become the monster perhaps? If not it, then you?" She replied, her tone more accusing than gentle now. He sensed her doubt, her foreboding reluctance to allow him to do it.

"If I had to become a monster to better the world then so be it." his voice grew uncharacteristically cold, not looking at her this time as he stared deeply into his own eyes in the mirror. "If it could save her.. If it could save others.. I would sacrifice all shred of humanity."

"She is beyond saving and you know it, stop fooling you're self, you're becoming delusional and I don't like it, you're turning into a man I don't dare to meet."

The mirror cracked, distorting the image within. She recoiled, he reacted.

The next thing her remembers is holding her in his arms, blood pooling beneath her on the silk sheets. Her eyes wide open in a look of shock, her beautiful features frozen in fear. An image she would wear to the grave.

He looked up into the mirror to see a face befitting of the monstrosity he had become. Without thought of consequence, as penance. He began to hide his face from the world, screaming fiercely in the night as nail after nail penetrated his skull. A finely crafter silver necklace inlaid with a bright blue gem between a number of elvish markings rested between her collar bones.

Black eyes stared back at him in the mirror, all whites gone. The hazel was gone, the handsome features replaced by a visage of thick leather.

He stood in a rectangular room, each wall had nothing more than two torch brackets besides two doors. It was empty save for himself, his body silhouetted against the wall in four different directions from the different sources of light. He didn't remember arriving into the room, his dwelling on the past betrayed his concentration one the present.

Without pausing he walked through another door to his left and re-emerged into a dimly lit room. The room looked more like it belonged in an Aylied ruin, large white marble pillars lined the centre of the room, each one had a man stood between them. On the floor in the middle of the room, on his knees was a red guard in leather armour. Chained in place.

"What is you're name?" the leather face man spoke slowly, his voice spliced with a mixture of malice and satisfaction.

"[censored] you." He replied, short and sweet, refusing to look into the ice black eyes of the leather faced man.

"Armand Christophe. I have been waiting to meet you. And please, I am you're most honoured host, please be a polite guest in my humble abode."

"I wont talk." he replied, in a gruff voice looking up into his eyes with matching ferocity, although he faltered a little as he stared into them. "I wont tell you anything. I wont betray the fox."

"I wouldn't expect you to betray him, I just wanted to know why you have intruded upon my home without invitation and how you found it." he replied, his long thin fingers grasping each other.

"I wont betray the guild." he spat again, this time looking away to avoid the sting of eye contact with him.

"Oh don't be foolish, I know where all you're guild pets reside, I know every detail about you're organisation, If I wanted I could hang the gray fox from the white gold tower before sun down. If I wanted to. Answer my questions and I will be sure to delay his death for a short while longer."

Armand seemed to consider his words for a moment or two before looking up with a strange expression, laughing hysterically at the leather face before him, before raising a hand an extending his middle finger.

"Ah- Well, I tried to spare you." He replied, turning on his heel slowly making his way to the door. Armand screamed in horror, staring at his hand as the skin began to peel backwards, shortly followed by the muscle to reveal an extended bone finger. Soon it spread to his hand, the flesh peeled and flayed at its on volition, blood dripped profusely on the floor. The screams heightened drastically before turning into a low pitch gurgle and then nothing as the skin and muscle on his head and neck removed itself. A dull thud of his body hitting the ground was the leather faces queue to open the door and leave. Making his way to the exit of the labyrinth.

"And, Ohmes, imply that I'm a pervert again and you'll be living in one of these tanks, its not a word in my repertoire. If I was, I assure you I would have kept my shirt for warmth." Those words touched his ears, and the moment Seltaire heard them he was spun around in a spray of water with the spear pointed javelin style at the Redguard. He was only a yard away, a deadly distance.

"I don't give ah-" He began through a snarl but was cut off by the man, Kalort. "I'm sorry. I Didn't mean that, my temper is easy to boil in situations like this. I'm Kalort Torka, this if Tiberius Church, Not that introducing him matters much while he's passed out. But you know, manners and all that." He said to the Ohmes, The lizard woman was now moving of her own volition, quite awake and quite aware of her situation. "At least you remember what language you're supposed to be speaking, I'm sorry for what ever happened to you. You can put it right one day. Lead the way digits."

"Damn right you better be sorry." Seltaire snarled, his cursing threat that was on the tip of his tongue having withered away to a lip-curled growl. "Manners my ass, don't go threatenin' the lassies again ya hear?" It was a... quirk of his, you could say, and one of the quickest ways to bring his temper to a boil in a blink. Though most things could anyways, threatening women did it much faster. Only half as angry as before, Seltaire turned again and nearly slammed into a Dunmer who'd just entered.

"Vehk! What the hell are you?"

"She's a woman... or lizard woman... or somethin' ta tha' effect. Ain't the point. She's been leather-face's play thing fer a bit, worse than us, an' we are helpin' her get out." Seltaire explained to the fellow prisoner. "Out through one o' these doors."

"By the way, if you choose wrong, I'm holding you responsible." The Ohmes added solemnly, prompting Seltaire to turn to her with a grin across the room, while one hand reached for his thigh.

"If tha' be the case, miss..." He began, before pulling his flask off his pant leg and holding it up. "I'm gonna need ah bit o' rum." He bit the cap and twisted it off with his teeth before taking a deep swig, and then twisting the cap back on. With the same hand he retied the flask to his leg and winked at her. "Gives me ah scapegoat. Blame the rum."

Probably wasn't the most shinning of acts to display his character, but Seltaire obviously cared none as he walked past the Dunmer with a little skip in his step, and started pointing his index finger at random doors. "Enie, meanie, minee, mo, catch ah parrot by 'is toe, if he squawks smack 'im good... Wait tha' ain't right..." Seltaire paused, frowning and then biting his lip. "Aw ta hell with it! Door numba' two." Decision made, Seltaire approached the door and turned the nob, pulling. It refused to open.

"Bugger's locked." He mumbled, turned, and slipped on a patch of moss, pushing the door open. To his credit he caught himself and stumbled sideways into the next room instead of falling. "Or... not. Push open not pull. Gotta remember tha'." Shaking his head, he readied his spear and advanced into the darkness. "Coast clear so far!" He called out behind him.

Just as he was saying it, the door slammed closed behind him, and a small click echoed after the resounding bang. From the other side of the door the group would hear shuffling about, and one clear word.

"[censored]!!"

OOC: And with that, I am gone for the weekend. I'll meet up with the group again on Sunday. Have fun ya'll.

As Kalort refused the healing, Jimri shrugged Redguards don't car much for magic, but usually have no trouble with restoration. but maybe he's a law-abiding sort, Legion or something like that, he's too much of a warrior for the watch.

"Your call, but as I said it isn't much, about what you could get with a bit of needlework or bandaging. A little usefull trick I've learned a bit more than ten years before anything magical went outlawed in the Imperial City." - Jimri stared at the walls while speaking, to avoid the sight of the glass tanks and their content, when something made her way into her mind.

"speaking of Imperial City, we might be somewhere under it. The stone from the wall look pretty much like what you can see in the city walls and the old houses. Which means leatherface is either good enough to have this place shielded against the detection orbs, or is playing his tricks with Occato's okay.". Shivering at the thought "I'd prefer the first possibility. At least the law would be on our side, not his."

IC:

"Point that spear at me again, Pirate and I assure you, you're missing fingers will have new companions. Namely you're manhood, and maybe a limb or two." Kalort shouted after the pirate as he left the room, nearly slipping over on the slick floor as he did. "Are you all ready to leave? We must make haste." adding the latter part in a more civilised tone to the prisoners around him.

"There is a possibility of this place being underneath the imperial city. But I doubt he is with Ocato, Ocato illegalised magic because he was scared of it. He wouldn't work with a mage of such horrendous qualities, not a chance, even more so now that his grip on reality is very much divorced." He spoke to the almost naked woman beside him, averting his eyes from her flesh out of embarrassment. He had always been bashful about such things. "But the one flaw in the laws in place, the orbs. They can pinpoint the exact position by measuring distances. They cannot measure height or depth however. Any spells cast down here would result in a battalion of mages being teleported to the city grounds above us, if we are indeed beneath the city that is."

Saying these words Kalort began to remember a new article which was hushed up by the black horse courier before it's release. He had managed to find out from a friend within the courier what the contents of the article was about however, this friend was taking a lot of risks by spreading the story through out the city by more illicit methods.

"But.. I remember one story, by the black horse courier. It was written about the orbs in the market district malfunctioning and transporting mages there for no reason. They mustn't have been malfunctioning, they where transporting the mages to the market district above us!" He felt his pulse climb with excitement, they where in the imperial city, or more accurately, beneath it. They had to be, there was no other explanation. "That would explain the stone work, it would explain the water piping into the tanks and dripping into our cells. It would even explain the moss growing on the floor and the green light, here I was thinking it was illusion magic. It was natural light coming through the waterworks above us."

"Quickly now, we're leaving. I taste freedom for the first time." He spoke quickly, jovially even. His mood lifting a great amount for the first time since he clambered from his cell.

Walking from the room he was the Pirate fall through the door beside it, he made to follow before it slammed shut and what sounded like a lock clicked behind it. No locks could be seen on the door however, just a crude handle. He tried it, it opened instantly.

"Pirate? Hey Digits, where are you?" He called into the darkness, walking on a dry tiled floor. "Wow.." was all he managed ad a number of candle ignited around the room. The room itself was semicircular, the tiles under his bare feet a pale cobalt blue. To his left was a large kind sized bed with neatly made green silk sheets upon it. The room was immaculate, no sign of dripping water rotting wood or growing moss. Large murals or woodlands and meadows where painted on the walls, both seemed to depict a different season.

Upon a dresser beside the bed was a large gold ornate mirror, its surface perfectly reflecting the opposite side of the room, and a large white pedestal, atop of which was a white beautifully crafted bust of an elven maiden, around the delicate neck was a finely crafted silver necklace with elvish symbols, inlaid with a large blue stone. Adjacent to the bust was a large oak book case containing a number of what looked like leather bound journals, each on matched the other, each had a finely slanting handwriting on the spine.

The pirate was no where to be seen.

When Kalort confirmed her suspcions, Jimri felt relief whaing over her, fighting an impulse to jump to his neck for a thank you kiss The poor guy's visibly embrassed by my clothing - or lack of it. Can't fault him, for all that's showing through he would probably feel better if I was naked...

As the light flooded the room, Jimri followed to the door, whistling softly as her gaze embraced the room "Leatherface might have a damn huge pile of faults, but taste in furnishing isn't one of them. I've seen rooms like that only a handfull of times, and I'm used to hang around money."

She quitely moved into the room, feeling almost embarassed by the contrast between the immaculate and luxirious room and her present bloodied, battered, dirty and half naked condition. She made a quick survey of the room, looking for anything that might look like shoes or clothing she could take. If I show up dressed like I am in the market district, the watch won't think twice before sending me to the slammer for indecent exposure. and if we have to walk through the sewer, I'd rather not do it barefooted.

Nola gazed at Kalort, her expression calm as he unfairly attacked her- she had only been joking- but she did not defend herself. If someone was stupid or cruel enough to make a big deal out of something that wasn't true, then why should she even bother with them?

But then he apologised, and she nodded, offering a small smile that showed no hard feelings were meant. Then the ohmes said to the group at large, "I'm Nola. Please, stop calling me ohmes. I am khajiit- don't subsidise what I am."

Setaire took a swig of his rum and was acting rather ridiculous. Nola found herself actually laughing out loud at his antics and his blatant disregard for the opinions of others- it was refreshing. And he had a noble nature, at least, for he had leapt to her defense. Not the sort I'd usually count a friend, but I know better than anyone that people can change... she thought, following the group into the next room.

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

Odessa's tail thrashed as the group all started verbally tearing at each other's throats. Part of her was disgusted by it- but another, darker part of her took pleasure in their displeasure.

Why was that? Why did she feel this way? Why was she in such conflict?

And did she want to be someone who didn't like such things?

Odessa didn't really know. When a dunmer yelled at her, she started, whirling to face him and moving into a defensive crouch, but clearly he was just as shocked about what she looked like as she was.

"I don't mean to scare or repulse anybody..." she said quietly. "I didn't look like this before... at least... I don't think I did..."

She shook her head and followed the others into the other room.

Farin jumped visibly as one of the group, an Imperial with a sailor's accent, actually replied to his exclaimation.
So... I'm not an observer?
Farin remained flabberghasted and the fear that this was truly reality and that all that pain and horror was real began to creep back into his head. People began to move around him and he was brought back to reality as the sailor was trapped by in a neighbouring room. Everyone's attention was suddenly even more focused on the room, especially when the door was opened to reveal... nothing, and empty room. As alarming as the situation was, Farin found himself still very detached from it all. He was worried about the Imperials disappearance, but no more than someone would be for a character in a book. Besides there was a more important matter, was any of this even real? He was moving towards the unwilling conclusion that it was. His mental shield was beggining to break down.

"I don't mean to scare or repulse anybody... I didn't look like this before... at least... I don't think I did..."

The hybrid breton had responded and Farin felt the guilt gnaw into his stomach,
Poor thing, I think I have it bad but... imagine waking up like that.
He followed the girl cautiously into the room, an apology was required...
"I... I'm sorry"
He paused, awkwardly
"... Miss, I don't know what prompted me to be... like that. I'm not quite myself at the moment..."

Hearing the discussion back in the glass tank's room, Jimri paused in her quest for clothing, moving back toward the rest of group. As she heard Odessa explain that she didn't mean scaring or repulsing anyone, she force herslef to take a better look at her, comparing her appearance with what she could glimpse from the tanks content. Once again shivering at the sight.

Once done, she spoke to Odessa, her voice soft "I don't think you're repulsive or scary. Odd, weird, not looking like anyone I know maybe, but no more scary or repulsive than a race I've never seen.... The best word I'd think about on how you look like is different. And not a shred of it is from your actions or choices, it wouldn't be fair to blame you for it. But if we get out of that rathole, you're going to stand out and attract attention, wether you want it or not."

Jimri paused, looking at what was left of her nightgown "And I'm afraid I'm going to draw some attention too. That thing was never meant to be worn out of a bedroom, I really need to find some clothes. Most of us will have to I think."

.

OOC: Damn, I have to hurry or my char will be nothing more than an observant.

IC: The man ? actually it turned out to be a Dunmer ? reacted as Sorian expected: lunging into an automatic attack. Sorian was prepared to repel the thrust but before he could do that the Dunmer dropped the make-shift spear. The Dunmer made a face that Sorian found rather amusing.
"I don't want to fight you," the Dunmer said, to which Sorian replied with one of his flashing smiles.
"I have no hunger for battle either. Why don't we be allies instead." With that, Sorian went to pick up the wooden excuse for a spear and offered it back to the Dunmer as a gesture of truce, though he was still not satisfied that it is safe enough for him to turn his back on this one or any of them.

The other former prisoners have put some distance between him and themselves and were going for what looked like an exit. Some heated words were exchanged and then he heard a great sluice of water. Sorian was eager to see what was happening.

When he saw the semi-humanoid figures, dipped into cramped water tanks, his stomach turned and he would have retched if there was anything in his intestines. A moment of helplessness vanished as quickly as it appeared and Sorian saw that a bunch of the former prisoners were gathered around a very strange person.
Someone from one of those tanks? he guessed. He decided to come closer, not paying attention to the hideous tanks and the cold water flowing freely upon the floor. It was a woman, he could see that now. She had some elements of human beauty, yet there were also some reptilian elements; elements which he did not abhor up until now.

She is as if two people were sewn together.
The other prisoners were talking, some arguing, yet he hardly heard anything. Sorian realized he was shaken to the core of his being.
I must get out of here. I will not become such an abonimation.

Then a great commotion interrupted his brooding. It seemed one of the prisoners had disappeared. While searching for him, they have found a strange room. Sorian followed them, all the while thinking if the room they were going into could be a nice big trap laid out for them.
No, he said to himself. Somehow I do not believe the room is dangerous.

He found himself in a luxurious chamber of a palace or something similar. The closest of his inmates, a quite beautiful Bosmer woman, was searching for some clothes. Only now he realized most of them were very short on clothes. He was used of walking around shirtless, but the rest of them, particularly the three women, were obviously not.

"A woman should be decent," he said out loud to no one in particular, just so they would know he was there.

Odessa looked at Farin and gave a weak smile. "I don't think any of us are," she replied, but her tone suggested forgiveness. She swished her tail nervously, as Jimri suggested she'd get attention out of here. In this, she did not feel conflicted. "I don't think I like attention..." she thought as her stomach twisted.

She looked around the room, and as she did so took in the objects all around it. Her eyes moved to something shining in the corner- a crystal amulet, strange and yet familiar to her eyes. She walked towards it, mesmerised, and reached up.

I can't take this... she thought, panicking. He would never forgive me...

Wait... she thought, pausing. Who is 'he'?

A blurry image fluttered into and out of her minds' eye, and something dark and full of malice stirred within her heart.

She reached up and brushed the amulet almost lovingly, but as her fingers touch the cold stone, a memory swam before her eyes as if real;

She was stood alone in a corridor of marble, strange markings on the walls and sense of danger and beauty all around. "The home of the Ayleids..." she said to herself. "Though so many years ago..."

But then a bright light grew all around her... she closed her eyes. Somebody whispered in her ear; she couldn't hear what. And then everything was light.

The memory startled her and caused a shiver to ripple out across her body. A stronger feeling grew now than the darkness before, a will to do as her own wishes dictated. She removed the amulet from its peg.

"If you did this to me, then you'll just have to forgive me for doing this to you..." she murmured, and turned to look at the rest of the group.

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

Nola fixed the rather short Redguard with an expressionless mask, only one eyebrow raised suggesting her emotions. "Not sure whether you noticed, but I am decently clothed," she commented sarcastically. "And it's not exactly these people's fault, is it?"

She shook her head and turned away from him, looking around the room. "What is all this?" she muttered to herself. There was strange equipment everywhere, and on the middle of the table... a journal, quill and ink sat beside it.

There was not time to be reading such things now, but Nola had no compunctions about taking it for later. Finding a satchel of alchemical equipment on the ground, she emptied it out and then filled it with the journal, and any other books around that looked like they might hold some answers.

"If we're in the sewers," she commented to the others, "Then there's gotta be a way up and into the city." she paused, thinking on what they could do once there. "Once we're in the city, I suggest we all stay together, lest we all get abducted one by one again." Her eyes flashed fiercely at the thought, and sub-consciously she pulled her lips back slightly in a snarl.

"I know somewhere we can go, if you'll come with me. But I realise trust isn't exactly prevalent in our bunch."

Barzul examined the spear, I can't fight with this, I've never used a spear in my whole life! he though, an idea flashed before him and he acted on it instantly. Holding the spear in his hands he quickly slammed it down on his knee, breaking it in two. He held the pieces in each hand and did a few practise blows with them, satisfied with his work he turned his attention to the group.

His stomach was still in turmoil after seeing that strange woman named Odessa, he didn't know exactly what she was, but for some reason he found her rather attractive, for someone with a tail and all. Was she a half Bosmer perhaps? I don't know, but she doesn't look human. heh, the tail and the scaled kind of give that away He swallowed and walked closer to the group. Kalort and the pirate had been discussing possible locations for the dungeon and they currently believed they were under the Market District in the Imperial City. They had also found a room, which the pirate entered first but apparently disappeared. Barzul wasn't sure exactly what was going on, his mind was still racing from recent events and the headache persisted.

Barzul walked into the newly discovered room and took a look around. He noticed Odessa showed unusual interest in the silver necklace on the Elven statue, he made a mental note to watch her more carefully from now on, it seems she knows more than she cares to share.
He usually didn't say much unless he had to, but today he didn't talk because he wasn't sure if he even could, the previous weeks of torture by that leather faced mage had left him damaged, putting together simple sentences was hard on him. Even so, he decided to try.

"The pirate. He..disappeared..from this room. That means there is also a...a... way for us..we can also get out."

Sorian could guess from the conversation around him and the manner of his companions' clothing that most of them have been imprisoned longer than he was. It was very probable that he was caught last. One of the women was obviously concerned about her... improper manner of attire.

He blurted out the first words that came to him, his mind stil numb from the terror of the previous chamber.
A woman should be decent? What are you, Sorian, a maid of fourteen years?

"Not sure whether you noticed, but I am decently clothed. And it's not exactly these people's fault, is it?"

Sorian smiled his gleaming grin at the words of the... Ohmes, was it? Her snappy words didn't bother him. In fact, that was he needed, some way of seeing what kind of a person she is. Hearing her words, he found himself immediately composed, the horror of the water tanks fled. This feline female and her whipping sarcasm was something he could respond to.

"I would never dream of accusing you of anything, milady. I've said nothing about you being undecent. If I've given you such an impression, I humbly ask your forgiveness."
Sorian bowed his head slightly and lightly touched his forehead with two fingers in a modest-looking salute.

He admired the elven looking Khajiit further as she quickly grasped the possible importance of the notebooks in the chamber while others were still recovering from their ordeals. Or perhaps they were shaken from the fact that the Imperial sailor had apparently vanished.

Every word that came from her mouth - or snout, perhaps? - ringed with intelligence.
"I know somewhere we can go, if you'll come with me. But I realise trust isn't exactly prevalent in our bunch."

"I also know a few places where it is safe," Sorian said out loud, but then his confident smile faded.
You thought the place where you slept was safe but they got to you nonetheless. Would this Ohmes have something better in mind?

"Do you truly believe this hiding place of yours will be safe? I don't doubt your sincerity, of course, but I was hidden rather well when they came for me.

Suddenly it came to him: Could they have been following me when I broke into that manshion? Or even before I broke into it? Were they looking for someone very particular?

Sorian looked across the room, observing his fellow inmates with a new fascination.

Two male Dunmer, two male Redguards, including himself, two male Imperials, two female, one Bosmer, and one Ohmes that looked very much as a Bosmer, and of course the hybrid, which they have found in a water tank. She wasn't exactly part of their group, not to the eyes of their captor anyway.

And all of us are rather small in stature, and athletic. Well, except for the other Redguard. One of the Dunmer also looked rather bulky but the rest were all more nimble than anything else. Could there be a pattern to this?

Nola flashed Sorian a rather pointed grin, seeing as she didn't make a point of showing her sense of humour. "I'll be sure to keep an eye on you, master Redguard, lest I get caught in a trap by your flatterer's tongue," she told him, but her eyes were crinkled in the corners with mirth. "You don't need to ask my forgiveness; I don't offend easily."

She addressed herself to the rest of the group. "As it happens, I do know somewhere safe- safer than where I was taken from, certainly. I don't want to mention the specifics here, but let's just say I have friends who know what's up and what isn't." She shrugged, and patted the satchel where the journal lay. "Also, I think it'd be in our interests to share whatever knowledge we each have and try and work out what the hell is going on. Not just us getting abducted- the whole city has gone to the dogs these last few years."

"Of course, I don't tend to let a thing like that stop me in my tracks."