[Lew.p]

Tsavani - Training with Elarian

The khajiit mostly growled and hissed in pain and frustration through the training, cursing at herself for her obvious mistakes - Focus on him, not the damn stick, she thought angrily to herself, trying to NOT try and overthink her technique with the quarterstaff. The stifling heat within her tunic and the heavy pads only made things worse for her. Once the rather humilating and painful initial stage of her training came to an end, she dropped down, panting heavily.

"I wish I could sweat," she growled, supporting her weight on the spear from her exhaustion. Shaking herself out, she pulled her helm and the torso pads off of herself, then removed the tunic and wrapped it around her waist. Her fur fluffed out across her belly, back, sides and arms, as it tried to dispel the uncomfortable heat and let the cold, Skyrim air replace it. "Sorry for this... I just can't handle the heat well," she growled.

Closing her eyes in concentration and opening a paw-like hand, she summoned an orb of golden light. Brilliant strands spread out from the shimmering sphere, coursing over her body and seeking out the bruises and cuts the training blows inflicted against her body, sealing and cleaning the wounds inside and out. Compared to some of the injuries she'd sustained and healed during her isolation, it took only a matter of seconds for the light to refresh her. As she stood up, she replaced the chest pads over her bare torso, leaving as much of her belly and sides bare as she could for ventilation, and readied her staff again. "Try again, now that I won't be suffocating from heat?" she asked, a savage glint in her eyes.

[Glu Glu]

Jarl Radwulf Spurvhauke, Gudslott Hall, Morning

“Fine. I’ll do it. I’ll forget about my new peaceful life without the blade at my side. When do I begin?”

The Jarl grinned, and reached out to shake the dunmer's hand. More good work finished today. Excellent he told himself, already feeling his dead wife watching over him, more than a little disapointed at his enthusiasm. After all, this perfect stranger of a Dark Elf wasn't the most traditional Guard Captain. Many of the Nords, like his new neighbour Ulfric Stormcloak, were mistrustful of outsides, mer in particular. Jarl Radwulf considered if his position as an outside might be leading him into error. He had already appointed a Reachwoman the position of Court Mage, after all. Putting his fears aside for a moment, Jarl Radwulf gave the Dunmer an authoritative shake of the hand, and a pat on the shoulder, and led him away.

"Most excellent! I'm sure you won't have to bloody your blade too often here in the sleepy Rift, my good mer. No, the main meal of it will be whipping these men into shape. I was a military man myself-" again Jarl Radwulf found himself dipping into sentimentalism. He frowned, mentally chastising himself, and changed tact "You best acquaint yourself with your new lodgings for now, and come visit me sometime this afternoon about the position. I'll find my son, wherever he is, and introduce you to him. He'll take you through what needs to be done." The Jarl nodded firmly, withdrawing the hand from the Dunmer's shoulder.


Helas' Folly, Morning

The bizarre figure peered up at Jal from his long, tube-like hood, and made an odd, reptile like noise. He pulled down the hood, revealing a hideous, leathery face, two glaring red eyes, a crooked mouth sportin large, dagger-like teeth and a pair of giant, wing-like ears. The scamp scratched behind his neck and shrugged. He looked about as he spoke, as if focusing his attention on every single object in the inn, in a seemingly random order.

"Booze. Came here for some booze. You got that? C'mon 'keep."

[pinar]

Sargon Hlaalu, Nuramon's House, Valton Hold, Early Morning



As the sun peaked over the east horizon, its rays trickled through the windows of Nuramon's home. Sargon slowly opened his brilliant orange eyes, and looked around him. He was still on his bedroll, the bottle of liquor he had was empty, as was his pipe. Re-packing and lighting the pipe, Sargon began layering himself in his robes, finishing off by wrapping his belt around his waist, sword and dagger lashed around it. Sargon then heard something below him, it was probably just Nuramon.

Sargon sat by the fire, on a wooden chair that was finely heated. The air was chill, but the fire gave off a radiant warmth, something Sargon had longed for since he reached Skyrim. Reaching into the pack that lay at his feet, Sargon brought out three things; a whetstone, a flask of mazte, and a small statue depicting Hircine. Sargon puffed on his pipe, slowly breathing out a billow of smoke. He brushed the cloud over his head, inhaling deeply. Next, he uncorked the matze and sprinkled two drops on the small wooden idol of The Huntsman.

After taking a pull for himself, he set down the flask and pipe to began his morning prayers. He repeated this with his idols of Meridia and Azura, using a different tobacco and liquor each time. When he finished, he poured each drink into one glass, and a pinch of each tobacco into his pipe. Inhaling and drinking deeply, he said his final prayer to the three. Packing these items into his satchel, Sargon simply relaxed in his chair.

Wonder when Nuramon will come up, some things I'd like to discuss with him.

[Amy Cooper]

Elarian, his house's courtyard

Elarian raised an eyebrow as Tsavani a removed a lot of her armor 'I tend to agree that armor isn't of much use when you can't move in it, but if you're planning to go against enemies other than animals it's likely to bite back one day or another. Mostly against arrows or spells. I'm also a bit surprised. Elseweyr is a land of sand and sun and the khajiit warrior I've met were rather complaining of their armor not being warm enough than the reverse.' He shrugged 'Probably a consequence of staying out, you'll probably not be comfortable in armor until you've shed some winter fur. A good brush and someone to handle it might come handy.'

Once she was done, Elarian changed his mock sword for the staff 'That's the spirit, and I'll even go for equal weapons. That seldom happen in a real fight, but we're training. Let' see if you can put some bruises on me.' As promised, the exchange was more balanced, the weapons being the same and Elarian being far less skilled with staves. Even if he took advantage of Tsavani's first raging attacks to land a few nasty ripostes, deliberately aiming at her expose sides and belly to demonstrate his point about the lack of armor. 'Anger can be a good thing, as long as you're controlling it, not the reverse'. Soon the clanking of wood on wood could be heard raising from the open courtyard. Wood on padded armor didn't make much noise beyond what the victim might produce on her own, but wood on wood was another matter. Which suited Elarian fine. If he planned to sell weapon training, the noise was likely to attract spectators and possible customers. But once it's know in the hold, it might be better to have an enclosed courtyard. I don't like the idea of some sightseer picking tricks from my lessons for free.

After ten minutes of the more balanced exchange – Tsvani had gained a fresh set of bruises but far less than in the initial trashing and Elarian had some of his own – called for a pause. 'You're getting the hang of it, but it's time for something a bit more formal. We're going to practice some moves. That's the basic of weapon training : repeat the motions until they get ingrained so deep you don't have to think, they become reflexes. That's why you fared better in that round. You're starting to get some of the reactions, and my own aren't as natural as with the greatsword. I've used it for decades. In plenty of fights but also in too many hours of practice to count. And I still practice and try to think of new wrinkles and tricks. Speaking of tricks, what I'm going to teach you is mercenary's tricks. Forget style, the idea is to get the other guy down fast.”

Elarian backed off a bit 'Things like that – extend your arm as if you were trying to lunge at me'. When Tsavani made the motion, he made is own, as if swatting the arm aside, before tapping the staff's butt on her instep then raising it to her chin. 'In a genuine fight, that could be a broken foot and jaw with a possible knockout, depending on the strike and armor. Comme variations can be going for the groin, or keeping the sideway motion and trying to hit the knee from the side to pop it. That last one is very good against hard armor. As I said, effective rather than polite.'

[Veronica Martinez]

Gorbad Yak-Bogadbu, finally done with the iron-shipment, morning.

It had taken him all morning, but there it was. A piece of every basic weapon that could be forged from iron, in addition to an iron armor set. He was eager to tell the shopkeeper, but his door had stayed closed for the entire morning. Gorbad wasn't sure what to think. Had he drank too much of the home-brew yesterday? He chuckled and thought it best to let the poor man sleep it away, just in case. He heard wooden sounds coming around a corner, someone sparring at the courtyard some distance away, but Gorbad didn't go that way. Instead, he headed straight for the mercenary house in town, to hear new on their visit to Shimmermist Mine. Strangely, no lights could be seen inside and the door was locked. "Is everybody having a day-after from that water-brew?" He thought, puzzled for a moment of what to do now. The sun was rising steadily up, it was already warming the town with it rays, the cold-night before but a memory now

A sudden outburst of pain, like from a cat, came from the coutyard. "Must be the khajiit training there, then." Gorbad didn't have anything else to do either, so he walked over to the coutyard where he saw a dunmer, Elarian if Gorbad remembered correctly, and Tsavani the khajiit, sparring with wooden spears. Gorbad stayed where he was, at the edge of the coutyard, he didn't want to be in the way, so he leaned against the wall of the building and merely observed the two sparring. The dunmer was apparently demonstrating something not-to-do, because when Tsavani did it, he made short work of the pose and performed a quick pretend-kill move with a wooden spear.

[XPidgex Jefferson]

Nuramon, at home, Valton hold, Early morning

Only several minutes after he had put himself down at the table he heard somethings upstairs. I guess my guest had woken. Perhaps I should tell him about my dream. He stood up and walked towards the cupboard were he took out two plates, a second glass and cutlery. He then quickly made breakfast, nothing difficult.

When he was done he walked to the stairs leading to his room and Sargon’s room and wanted to invite Sargon for breakfast. Instead he saw his old friend sitting in the room next to the dining room, in front of the fire. "Sargon, I hope you've slept well? breakfast is ready, if you want any."

Daikanos, the keep.

Jarl Radwulf gave him an authoritative shake of the hand, and a pat on the shoulder, and led him away.

"Most excellent! I'm sure you won't have to bloody your blade too often here in the sleepy Rift, my good mer. No, the main meal of it will be whipping these men into shape. I was a military man myself-" He stopped in the middle of his sentence and started a new one. Everyone has things they don’t want to talk about I guess.

"You best acquaint yourself with your new lodgings for now, and come visit me sometime this afternoon about the position. I'll find my son, wherever he is, and introduce you to him. He'll take you through what needs to be done." The Jarl nodded firmly, withdrawing the hand from the Dunmer's shoulder.

Daikanos nodded and thanked the man. The guards standing at the large doors of the keep had heard the conversation and when Daikanos looked over them they immediatly stood in attention instead of leaning against the wall like two lazy asses. “Whipping these men into shape won’t be a problem at all.” He said with a devilish grin.

He saw another guard pacing through the hall, seemingly doing nothing. He had just heard the last words and straightened his back and tried to look like he wasn’t just pacing around doing nothing. Daikanos motioned with his hand to lead the way and said. “To the captain’s quarters and the fastest way.”

As he passed the other dunmer he gave the man a mocking bow. “I’m sure we’ll see eachother sometime.” He said with a slick smile.

[Ludivine Dupuy]

Elarian, his courtyard, morining


While he was making his demonstration, Elarian noticed from a corner of his eye the orc blacksmith having a look at his lesson. He turned to Tsavani with a gesture of apology 'I'm afraid I'll have to leave you unattended for a short while, there's something I'd like to commission if I can afford it. And maybe you should inquire for some bits of armor too if you're planning on making a serious career at fighting.'

He moved to the smith with a smile and an offered hand. Both were genuine, for Elarian had known enough of the orcs to appreciate those who made the effort of learning the way of civilization. Even if the number of times the orsimer's dreams of acceptance had been trampled, their perseverance deserved respect. Their fighting ability too. Elarian's notion of warfare tended more toward hitting and running, but precious few forces where as good at holding a spot to draw hold the enemy there than orcish heavy infantry. They might be lacking in polish, but certainly not in skill and dedication.

'Gretting, you're.. Gorbad, is that right ? the town's smith. I'm Elarian, tough you might have heard of me as Graymane. Somewhat retired mercenary and hopefully weaponmaster. I'm glad to see you, I have a few things I'd like to have smithed for my use. But they're quite different from what I know of orcish smithing.”

He paused for a second, making sure nobody was hanging around except Tsavani. 'What I'd like first would a light chain shirt with a leather padding underneath. But one that can be worn discretely under a shirt. Something that's light, silent and can stop a dagger. Now that I think of it, some reinforcing plates over the kidneys and hearth in the back and over the hearth in the front would be nice too. I don' t want to cast undue aspersion on a perfectly fine altmer gentleman, but I've often felt that the presence of thalmor officials raised the number of accidents with daggers. Childish paranoia on my part no doubt, but I'd rather be safe than sorry.'

His tone turned more serious 'More seriously, can you make that sort of armor, and if so, how long and how much would it take ?'

[Judy Lynch]

Gorbad Yak-Bogadbu, Elarians courtyard, morning.

The dunmer stopped sparring when he noticed Gorbad watching. He wondered for a second if he was disturbing the training and was about to leave when the dunmer spoke.
_____________________________
'Gretting, you're.. Gorbad, is that right ? the town's smith. I'm Elarian, tough you might have heard of me as Graymane. Somewhat retired mercenary and hopefully weaponmaster. I'm glad to see you, I have a few things I'd like to have smithed for my use. But they're quite different from what I know of orcish smithing.” The dunmer paused for a second and looked around as if to make sure unwelcome ears weren't listening. 'What I'd like first would a light chain shirt with a leather padding underneath. But one that can be worn discretely under a shirt. Something that's light, silent and can stop a dagger. Now that I think of it, some reinforcing plates over the kidneys and hearth in the back and over the hearth in the front would be nice too. I don' t want to cast undue aspersion on a perfectly fine altmer gentleman, but I've often felt that the presence of thalmor officials raised the number of accidents with daggers. Childish paranoia on my part no doubt, but I'd rather be safe than sorry. More seriously, can you make that sort of armor, and if so, how long and how much would it take ?'
_____________________________
The dunmer was, plain and simply, asking for a piece of armor that could protect him against slashing and stabbing attacks. Gorbad thought for a moment. His ore supply was completely empty by now, so he'd need a refill of any ore he could possibly get his hands on. A picture of the ideal version of the armor the dunmer had ordered entered Gorbads mind. Leather to make it comfortable and flexible, reinforced with chain-mail on all places but the kidney, hearth and back. On those places, it would seemingly be reinforced by plate armor. How to make that armor light? He'd probably need some moonstone for that to happen. And in addition, the dunmer wanted it to be worn under a shirt. So it couldn't be big either, yet another reason why it should be made from moonstone. Orchalium or ebony would work as well, simply because the amount of it needed to be protective would make it lighter than if it was made from iron. He gave the dunmer an understanding smile and nod when he said the part about being paranoid, but rather safe than sorry, and replied:

"I'm unfortunately completely out of ore, so until we hear news from Shimmermist Mine, or get visited by a caravan of traders, I can't do anything at all. The armor you are looking for would be quite hard to hide under a shirt, if you want it to give maximal protection by combining plate and chainmail and leather, but if I get my hands on some moonstone it can easily be done. Even orchalium or ebony would work too. There are plenty of other ways you can use those ores than into a piece of heavy armor." He gave the dunmer an astute smile and continued. "If I'd have the ore required right now, it wouldn't take more than a day. But..." He gestured to the world and air around them, meaning that as things are now, there's nothing he could do. He got a puzzled look on his face before he said:

"If you're feeling a bit adventurous, we could head up to the mine and see what's taking the mercenaries so long. Maybe take Tsavani and a couple of guards with us, as well as the miner Nellis. What do you say?"

[Ray]

Elarian, his courtyard, morning

Elarian smiled as the smith started explaining how he would go about the armor 'Keep in mind that I'm not asking for something to be worn in battle after battle. It doesn't need to be as strong and durable. That sort of armor were fairly common in Morrowind before the Red Year – dunmer politics could be... lively, and often involved the Morag Tong. That sort of armor was almost mandatory in the dresser of an aspiring noble.' He extended his arm to show the lamellar vambrace of his armor. 'I'm thinking something along that line – the plates don't come over over the mail's rings, but their edge has holes to pass them through. It helps limiting the bulk. The padding doesn't need to be thick either, it's there to prevent chafing. Limit the noise by sewing the rings over it to hold them together too. If it turns a pierced lung into a cracked rib and needs to be refurbished after that, it would have fulfilled it's role.'

He thought for a instant before adding 'But it will probably take more than a day – the key to discretion is how tightly the armor is fitted, it needs to be as close to the body as possible. That sort of fitting can be lengthy. Now for the material, I agree that moonstone would work the best, though if you can get your hands on some malachite, using glass for the plates would be the best. Since they're supposed to keep something sharp and pointy to reach to the vitals, the stronger they are, the better.'

Elarian listened to his suggestion 'That sounds like a good idea. I haven't much to do yet and that sort of deed won't hurt my repute here. I'm a bit more skeptical about taking Tsavani along. A Khajiit's night sight can certainly be handy in a mine, but her spearwork isn't yet to a point were I'd feel confident. At least against a opponent that thinks. One hour or two drilling some basic attacks, add to that what dodging she had picked up in her years alone and she will be able to use her spear for more than an overlong walking stick as long as we're facing animals only'

[darnell waddington]

Jal, Hela's Folly,

Jal took a rapid step back when we saw the leathery lizard-like face staring back at him. He landed hard on his bad leg and stumbled, just managing to catch the bar to stop himself falling over. His right hand instinctively groped for a sword but finding nothing there settled at his side. When he realised the creature wasn't trying to attack him, he regained his composure.

"Uh ... sure, here you go." He said, handing the creature another tankard of mead. "What are ... I mean, who .. what I mean to sa - ... well, I'll just go ahead and say it. What are you?"

[lexy]

Gorbad Yak-Bogadbu, at Elarians courtyard, morning.

"Yes, yes know what I'm doing. But I'm not going to make some one-time use armor, that's a waste of ore and time. And it won't take more than a day, trust me old dunmer" Gorbad thought with a smile. "It's the ore that is the problem."

"A khajiits night-eye is a very good thing to have with us. Tsavani could walk at the back of us all, merely looking out for danger. Even a crippled khajiit grand-ma would be suitable for that." He winked to Tsavani when he said that. "Yes, the three of us accompanied by Nellis the miner plus three guards would be a nice little group of explorers. If Tsavani wants to join us, of course?" That last question was directed to Tsavani.

[ImmaTakeYour]

Tsavani - Outside Elarian's House

Despite any claims Elarian may have had about the quarterstaff being a good "Training Spear", the Khajiit could clearly recognize that it wasn't - it was MUCH better suited for thwacking people with than stabbing them, and the lack of weight at the ends through her off-balance. So, she decided to focus more on defending and dodging with the weapons, yet still struggled to actively focus on Elarian and her own movement than the damn stick's.

With the break in the combat, she relaxed again, panting softly. The condescending attitude toward her apparent lack of skill given the training ticked her off, and she shook her head in response with a growl. "You already said you'd pay me to check out the mine - I merely didn't have time last night, but I can do it alone," she answered. "We certainly don't need half the town coming with us." She took a few steps forward, setting her quarterstaff aside and standing as tall as she could. "Now, if you're that concerned with my skill with a spear, then lend me an ax - any will do."

Her tone was coarse, and the back of her fur raised menacingly. "I've taken care of myself for five years against worse threats than goblins, rats, or bears. This will not be a problem," she growled, flipping both of her hands up and protracting her claws, summoning golden light and burning flames. "Now, where's the mine? I'll get my spear and have it scanned and cleared by this afternoon.

[Rhiannon Jones]

Gorbad Yak-Bogadbu, Elarians courtyard, morning.

Tsavani was up and about, eager to show what she was made of. Gorbad thought it best to remind her that the mercenary group hadn't been heard from since yesterday.

"I'm not saying you can't do it, but what I am saying is that the mercenaries went there yesterday, how many I do not know, but what I do know is that we haven't heard from them since. So what ever is out there is either already dealt with, or it dealt with the mercenaries. You still want to go alone?" Gorbad gave the khajiit a serious look when he asked the question and added:
"About the weapons, we do have a fresh supply of iron weapons -and armor-, so an axe is yours for the trip if you want it."

[james tait]

((OOC: Woohoo, The Jarl is finally free. My characters can do what they like now, excellent. Um..))


???, Helas' Folly Inn, Morning

The Scamp looked at Jal as if he were slightly insane, drawing the tankard to his lips and drinking heavily from it, downing a good quarter of the thing in one enormous effort. The daedra's red eyes continued to watch the Innkeeper, a look approaching incredulity on his demonic face.

"Er, what, you never seen a Scamp before, 'keep?" said the daedra in a jaunty, rhythmic voice. "Don't get out much, huh? Eh, nevermind. Don't worry though gramps, not gonna eat yer. Heh. Just here for the booze. And the conversation, yeah. Heh." the Scamp drew the tankard, which looked quite enormous against his child-sized, cruel-looking face, and took another huge gulp, taking his drink well past the half-way mark. "Aah. Not bad. So, what's crackin'?"

[Rodney C]

Elarian, his courtyard, morning


Elarian listened impassively to Tsavani's outburst, letting her vent off before answering 'Did I mention a thing like I'd think you would end up dead or something like that ? The one point I am worried about is your skill with a spear, because I expected you to bring Hircine's gift along. I don't doubt that you're though, resourceful and able to live though a lot. But correct me if I'm wrong, you have never fought along with someone, even less in a group. And you have very little practice with spears. That's already a dangerous combination. Being in a narrow place such as a mine will make it worse. Add something as dangerous as the Spear of Bitter Mercy, it's a recipe to get someone killed.'

[patricia kris]

Gorbad Yak-Bogadbu, at Elarians courtyard, morning.

The dunmer and Gorbad wouldn't let Tsavani wander into a mine all by herself, so he said:
"Well, I think it's settled, then? How about I catch you in a few hours at, say, the inn? I'm going to see if I can find Nellis and some guards who want to see some...action."

He waved good-bye for now and walked out of the courtyard, back to the empty street. From there he made his way to the barracks, where three nord guards sat bored on wooden chairs around a table, playing "War" with their cards. A very simple game, divide the deck into as many piles as there are players and draw a card from top. Highest value wins. You could spice it up with extra rules as much as you wanted, but from all Gorbad could say, they were playing with the default rules. They looked up when he entered, noted he wasn't someone interesting and continued their equally non-interesting game of War. Gorbad walked up to them with a smile and took a seat at the only empty chair around the table. The guards gave him a surprised and interested smile, one of them gathered the cards and shuffled them into four piles, giving each of them one.

"You know how to play War, old man?" One of them said. Gorbad gave them a sly look at drew a card from his pile.
"Of course I do. But do you know how to play "Suited War"? Gorbad drummed with the card against the table. The puzzled, yet interested looks on the guard’s faces told him they didn't, so Gorbad continued.

"See, the basic rules of "War" still applies, but whoever has the last rounds winning suit on his card, gets two higher face-value than his card is showing. And, in addition, the person with the same suit as the card that had the lowest value last round, gets two less." Two of the guards nodded, but the third one looked really confused. It didn't take more than a couple of example draws to show what Gorbad was talking about. Then they hit a tie situation.
"In a tie situation, there are always at least two suits involved. So, apply the suit rule as normal for the next round, but both of the suits have the bonus, -or reduction-. Obviously there's either not a winner or a loser when it comes to a tie, but they count as winners when calculating the bonuses and reductions as if they were." This time all three guards understood. Gorbad took the cards up and shuffled them again into four new piles. "Let's play!"

A few matches later, in a game of 100% luck, they stopped playing. One of the guards said,
"Well that was refreshing. Thanks for that, Gorbad.. Was it?"
Gorbad nodded and said,
"We are going to explore that Shimmermist Mine with a couple of others in a few hours and would very much like the extra safety a couple of guards would bring with them. We can't pay you much but.."

"Anything's better than sitting around here bored I say!" the guard who was obviously the anti-brain of the three said. The other two nodded in agreement. "We'll come with you, don't worry. No need to pay, the jarl sees to it that we have coin in our pockets. And there are plenty of other guards in town to handle even a bandit raid. We'll see you at say, the inn, a couple of hours?"

"Sounds just perfect", Gorbad replied and with a warm smile and hand shake he left the barracks. Now he'd have to find Nellis. "Where might that fella be", he wondered. He decided to take a quick look at the inn and then go for the castle if he wasn't there.

***

He recalled seeing Nellis walk up to the castle earlier that morning, but hadn't seen him go back from there. So that's where he headed. He found Nellis lying on the floor at the bottom of some stairs, all alone, babbling apologies -or insults- to a person who wasn't there, with a crazy look on his face.
"Are you alright there Nellis?" Gorbad asked and took a firm grip around the nord and shook him one time, two times. "Can you hear me Nellis? Hello?"

[Lauren Dale]

Tsavani - Outside Elarian's House
Listening to Gorbad and Elarian criticize her ability provoked a rather scathing rebuke from the Khajiit. "I know how to survive, and when to run - Send in others only if I come out a mess. Otherwise, let me handle the mess," she growled to Gorbad, before turning to Elarian, "And, if you're so concerned about the risk I represent because of my lack of experience in working with a group and unpredictability of the spear of Bitter Mercy, what the hell makes you think it will be a good idea to put even more people in the mine with me while I'm swinging that thing around?" she asked, clearly annoyed at the lack of faith in her abilities.

"Where's the mine? I'll have it cleared out before evening," she requested, turning around and heading back toward the house to retrieve the spear.

[Nicola]

Nellis Nelsh, at the keep, morning.

Nellis saw Valramo standing right in front him. The elf looked with a devilish smile at him, and laughed.

"Quiet yourself elf! You heard me! I am Nellis Nelsh! You shall not mock me, and will not stand your laughter!" said the nord in a voice full of rage.

The Atlmer only laughed further, and with each chuckle, his golden skin began to fall off, flake by flake. His eyes turned into the horrid undead blue, skin now gray. Valramo was undead again, and the very sight nearly made Nellis attack. However, the voice and hands of a Orc dispelled the vision, bringing him back to reality.

"Oh Gorbad! Good to see you! I was just ..." Nellis said before he turned to his side.

Valramo was gone. Must have been another vision... thought the nord. Twisting his view back to Gorbad, he smiled.

"....Oh I was just day dreaming. I had a nice little chat with Fiona upstairs. Needed a uh.....Stallions potion. Helps me with my Stamina."

Nelsh detested lying to any, but he couldn't go and tell the truth, even to the friendly orc. Fiona was the only one how could know about his...visions....for now. If anyone else knew, the news would have likely caused a large panic in the town, ending with the nord's own execution. That is a fate he did not want.

"So Gorbad, what do ya need? If it involves anything mine-related, I'm all ears."

[Shae Munro]

Gorbad Yak-Bogadbu, at the keep, morning

Nellis mumbled a confused response, as if he'd just been summoned from oblivion as a daedra:
___________________________
"Oh Gorbad! Good to see you! I was just ..."
"....Oh I was just day dreaming. I had a nice little chat with Fiona upstairs. Needed a uh.....Stallions potion. Helps me with my Stamina."
"So Gorbad, what do ya need? If it involves anything mine-related, I'm all ears."
___________________________
Potions for stamina sure, what-ever. The witch had probably given him moonsugar or skooma, judging by Nellis weird confused state. Gorbad thought for a second. If Nellis would be like this, there'd be absolutely no point of bringing him to the mine. They might as well bring a goat up there. He helped the nord stand up and said:

"Are you sure you're feeling good enough for.. anything? Because we are about to visit that Shimmermist Mine, as much as that Khajiit hates it, we are going to go there as a bigger group. Three guards, Elarian, Tsavani, you and me. We are to meet at the inn in just about an hour from now. If you aren't feeling well, stay in town, ok? If you do feel well enough, see us at the inn in an hour." He gave the nord a clap on the back. "I'll join you there in an hour, there's someone I need to talk to now that I'm in the keep." He waved good-bye and started walking up the witch Fiona's tower.

At the top of the tower, he found a closed door. He took a moment to catch his breath before he gave the door three solid knocks. Knock-kno-knock. And waited.

[Madison Poo]

Danus Maximus. The keep. Jarl's throne room.

While on his way to Valton being escorted by 5 imperial soldiers acting as bodyguards He remembers his life. From when the thalmor taken over the IC and can clearly remember the details despite being 3. To being raised by a kind farmer in a village. When he left to adventure. Howe he got to the legion, And how he somehow is responsible for convincing a jarl of a new hold to side with the empire. He has come a long way within 30 years of his life. Especially if he was sent to Skyrim personally by Titus Mede II himself. Despite being loyal to the empire. He is not quite happy about how it is going. He is ashamed that he is now serving his so called "elven overlords" And hates how he is in some way helping the thalmor of killing or capturing Talos worshipers. As a result he understands and respects the stormcloaks. However the reason why he is still loyal to the empire is because He believes the stormcloaks are merely doing what the thalmor wants and has a gut feeling that one day. An emperor Will say "Enough!" And fight the Aldmeri Dominion. However as he is near the keep of valton he needs to stop thinking of the past and think of now.

As he approach the entrance he was stripped of any weapons as well as have to leave his bodyguards outside. He is now face to face with the jarl himself.

"I under stand that you just started this hold and do not want it to be in immediate conflict in this war, however there is no guarantee the stormcloaks will not just invade your hold. There are many reasons why. For one; You somehow bought land of of riften which is obviously stormcloak territory. And Ulfric will be very displeased that he lost territory without any fighting. Another is that your hold is right between Falkreath and Riften. If Ulfric is to attack Falkreath he needs to attack Valton first. Those are reason why the stormclaoks will attack. Do I have to list the reasons why your militia is not enough to fend them of" The diplomat had noticed the Jarl made a concerned look. He may just be convincing him to side with the empire. "Go on" Said the Jarl.
"Well for one with this new hold comes with new guards. And sure some may be former adventures or former soldiers but the majority are inexperience at warfare. Within days if not hours will your hold fall to the rebels. And don't aslo forget about that you will be removed from your position. You would only be a jarl very briefly. If you side with the empire. You will have experienced legionaries assisting your men defending the hold. The chances of stormcloak failing in attacking the hold will be a good chance, and over time with the training of the legion your hold militia will be good enough to fight by itself should the legion for any reason have to withdraw from the hold." The room fell silent

[Arrogant SId]

Elarian

Elarian shrugged 'The reason why I'm willing to take those chances is simple – your eyes. Your ears and nose too. Basically you can see way better than us down in a cave, even accounting for magic, lanterns or the like. I don't know what's lurking down there, but as Gorbad said, it seems like it has already taken down three reasonably skilled and equipped mercenaries. Who were hired to have a look around and didn't have a reason to stay there a second more than needed. That means they went down fast, or had their retreat blocked. They might have taken out a big enough piece of it to let you clear the place, but I wouldn't bet much on that.'

He looked at Tsavani 'What I suggest is that you take the lead inside and we'll follow at a distance. As I said, you're the better placed to spot trouble. If you can deal with it on your own, by all means do it.'

[Kelly Osbourne Kelly]

Jarl Radwulf Spurvhauke, Gudslott Hall, Midday

The Jarl swilled his reply about in his mouth, and shifted in his uncomfortable, freshly hewn throne. Yesterday Thalmor, and now the Empire. By lunchtime we'll have the Princes of Oblivion bartering for my Hold? Thought the Jarl bitterly. If there was one thing Radwulf Spurvhauke disliked, it was listening to petitions from sweet-mouthed Cyrodiils. In his time as a merchant in Anvil, Jarl Radwulf had heard every tact under Mangus. Every type of face, every colour, scaled or furred, approaching him with honeyed words and dubious contracts. But the Imperials were always the worst. In fact, in his long time in Anvil, Radwulf had devised a formula; the closer in association with the Emperor, the more unbearable the diplomat. It had quite surprised him, on the few occasioned Radwulf had met Titus Mede, how amiable he had seemed. That, Radwulf later decided, had been the Emperor's final trick; to fool you on side, and make you like him for it.

The present Imperial that faced Jarl Spurvhauke was not of Titus Mede II's calibur, but not far off. The damned thing about these Imperial Diplomats, he thought, Is that they always speak so much sense. Stay on guard, Radwulf. Jarl Radwulf lent on his fist and closed his eyes, banishing for a moment the phantom of his dear wife. Now there was a woman who knew how to deal with Imperials. But Jarl Radwulf himself was no fool.

"All that you say is very good, but does not the converse ring equally true?" he intoned, solemnly. "My Hold's position, rightfully won through contract and heraldic oath, on Ulfric's flank leaves me the most vulnerable in all of Skyrim to attack by Stormcloak forces, if I where to throw in my lot with the Empire. Although I assure you I have no love for Ulfric Stormcloak, and Valton is a hold founded in Imperial Law, presently we are apart from this war. At the moment Ulfric's attention is set on Whiterun, where Jarl Balgruuf looks to sway either way. At the moment, as a neutral buffer with no military force to speak of, I act as a buffer between Falkreath Hold and The Rift. To allow either side's forces into my Hold is to invite attack from the other. So let me put it this way, what you offer me is not a favour, but an invitation to make my Hold into a battlefield. This, Cyrodiil, I will not sign away cheaply." the words came so easily from Jarl Radwulf's lips, as if his dear, late wife had whispered them into his ear. Imperials. Jarl Radwulf knew them well.


Fiona Barrow-Heart, her study, Midday

The witch lay on her bed, thinking. Thinking was something this Reachwomen did an awful lot of. Her mind was always twisting, turning, exploring every avenue before her. Her spirit was restless, her mind even more so. All the questions thrown up by the call of her raven, Hrefn, and the insane ramblings of that ugly-looking Nord, these questions had no easy answer. So Fiona Barrow-Heart sulked, staring into nothing, idly flicking spells at a rat she had caught in a trap by her bed. With a flash of violet, the poor creature's shape would morph. Not it's image, but the very body of the thing. She was practising, as was normal when she thought. Fiona's hands where always busy. While her mind pondered other things, a succession of flicks from her wrist attempted to transmogrify the rat into a kwama forager. So far all she had managed to do was remove the poor thing's legs.

The Court-Witch jumped a little at the knock upon her door. An authoritative one, this. Not the idiot Nord, but who? When the Guard's knocked, it was tentatively, like a naughty child, about to run away and leave their neighbour to open the door to an empty porch, or a bag of wolf-stool. Fiona frowned and stood up, kicking the tortured worm-like rat under her bed with her heel. She stopped upon her mirror, checking her tangled mess of auburn hair was sufficiently nest-like, and opened the door. The witch that greeted Gorbad seemed a different one from yesterday's. There was a little more vigour and excitement in her, and yesterday's practical, well-armoured robes had been done away with for a low-cut, faded red dress, once at Princess', but now reappropriated with a dozen or more pouches and buckles for a witch's miscellany. Fiona Barrow-Heart smiled enthusiastically, and rather fakely, at the sight that greeted her.

"Oh, hallo there. What brings you to this humble Court-Mage's lair?"

[Makenna Nomad]

Danus Maximus, Guddslot hall, Midday.

(He is very stubborn) thought Danus. Usually he would normally convince many people to do what he or the empire wants very quickly. However it is going to take quite a while to convince the jarl to side with the empire.

" I understand why you are hesitant to pick a side in this conflict. After all it is confusing and misunderstood.. However there is something I must say. When you claim you got this land by contract and oath are you saying we will take away your power as jarl? If that's the case you are wrong. All jarls who side with the empire will still have control over their hold. The only difference is that there will be imperial legionaries station within it. So do not worry on that. Sure you would have the biggest flank for a stormcloak attack, However General Tullius understand that and will deploy many more legionaries in your hold than in any other hold.

And while being a buffer may help us as it could possibly stop Ulfric from attacking Falreath. What would make him stop. Ulfric is a very determined to win this war even if it includes attacking holds such as your's and Balgruuf's to get to us? And sure my "invitation" As you call it may turn this hold into a battlefield. However it will happened anyways whether you pick a side or not. The only difference is the chance to actually repel the invasion if you pick a side. I am saying if you want what's best for your people. It is to join the empire. You do not have to send your militia into the frontlines. As for Ulfric's attention on whiterun. Sure he may be focusing on Bargruuf but how long will it be before he consider Valton a threat over the fact that he lost land to this and I am pretty sure despite what Maven or whoever is in charge of Riften thinks; Ulfric will merely see this as the equivalent of a thief taking goods from a merchant."

[Jessica Nash]

Roymund Inventius, Valton Exterior.

Having recieved an odd look from one of the Holds guardsmen upon his first step into the town, Roymunds generalised opinion of civilisation was confirmed "Once again i'm looked upon as an unwanted breeze blowing through.." he thought. Lugging his ever sliding backpack up once more, he peered weirily around the Hold. He saw many a passing merchant and townsfolk likely keeping to their usual dull routines, a tradesman working on one of the new homes caught his eye. This mans aggresive appearance was not of surprise, but his craftsmanship was. Roymund could make out many a mark along the timber grains were the joiners heavy-handed hammer had gone astray "Hmmmph.. shouldnt expect better from such a land."

After several more moments travel, and a few more sneers from the townsfolk, Roymund had arrived at a rather larger building. Not so much grand looking but it's ambience gave of a sense of value more so than any building he'd yet seen in Valton. squinting against the suns reflection on the hanging sign, he inspected the letter-craft of the sign. He let out a shallow-spoken mumble "Helas' Folly, eh? Seems as good a place as any".

Roymund Inventius, Helas' Folly Inn

Stepping lightly through the heavy framed inn doors, Roymund embraced the feel of the atmosphere. The Inn wasn't full, though the few patrons inside kept up a homely feel. He approached the bar, offering a polite nod to one of the regular's alongside him, and made an attempt for the Innkeepers attention.

"Greetings to you, Innkeep" said Roymund, attempting to hold up a friendly tone of voice "I'd ask of you a mug of your favoured meads and the chance to rent a room here until weeks end." He reaches for his pocket, revealing a small coinpurse to pay the fellow.

[Paula Rose]

Xerces Redoran, at the location of his future home

As Xerces neared the western rim of Valton a feeling of homesickness began to run through his brain,
he said to himself,
I really need to get some laborers from Morrowind to help build my house, i'll let someone else do the work in this town of fools.

And with that Xerces flipped his hood up and walked away from the town with a grin on his face.