(M) Voyage of the Storm Breaker (P)

[SikstaSlathalin]

A Gin and Siks combined production

Rated M for possible mature content including sex, violence, language, graphic situations, and drug use.

Voyage of the Storm Breaker
http://i821.photobucket.com/albums/zz139/Siks/Landscapes%20and%20title%20art/pirateship3_zps86239416.jpg (http://s821.photobucket.com/user/Siks/media/Landscapes%20and%20title%20art/pirateship3_zps86239416.jpg.html)

Fortune and glory awaits the brave


OOC is here and still open. (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=45479)




A notice in your local tavern


Citizen of Tamriel,

Do you wish for adventure,danger, and the chance to earn gold and fame beyond your wildest dreams? I am looking for just that type of person, on request of High King Ulfric Stormcloak of Skyrim, I will soon be embarking on a long and historic quest to map out the entirety of our world. This venture will require not only experienced Sailors, but ambitious Mercenaries, skilled Healers and expert Craftsmen. All walks of life are welcome and any skillsets will be much appreciated, but you will also be required to listen to the Ship's Officers.

Space will be limited on the Storm Breaker so bring only the essentials and nothing you will be afraid of losing in the event of a bad storm or other misfortune. If you believe you can handle this life meet me in Solitude harbour in the land of Skyrim on Middas the 13th of Midyear, we will celebrate the Mid-Year Celebration in style before departing for the Summerset Isles mapping everything we see along the way. Priests of the Nine Divine will be there to bless our journey and the people of Tamriel will be cheering our names! Be prompt or you will be left behind.



Sincerely
Lord Allester Winterblade


Lord Winterblade was slowly reading the notice he sent to all corners of Tamriel as he was seated at a small oak table before his fine ship the Storm Breaker waiting for his crew to show up and sign the papers for the voyage that would take them all across Nirn. The docks were mostly quiet with everyone celebrating the Mid-Year in the street of Solitude. When the wind shifted he could faintly hear raucous laughter and music from the Bard's Collage on the gently blowing wind. The old Nord allowed himself to walk down memory lane for a few minutes. Reviewing the last time he attended the Mid-Year Celebration, it was a few years ago at the height of the Rebellion. His squad and he had just come into Whiterun. They were meant to try and inflate some interest in the Stormcloaks' cause and use it as pressure and make Jarl Balgruuf pledge his fealty to Ulfric. Sadly his squadmates were young and soon found themselves neck deep in ale and a few women just as deep in ale as they were.

It annoyed him but Allester knew what it was like to be young so he let them have the night off, but he'd be sure to make them sweat all that ale out as they ran to the next Hold Capital to do the job all over again. Removing his helm he decided to see what he could do for their mission, his group were all travelling in normal steel armor to avoid any kind of prosecution their Stormcloak gear might give them, but some people still seemed to be able to tell they were Stormcloaks. This earned them some scrutiny especially when they came across Battle-Borns, it was just this kind of situation that presented itself later in the night just around 8. It was just outside the Bannered-Mare and a newblood from his squad was squaring off with Idolaf Battle-Born swords already drawn. Winterblade tried pushing through the crowd to stop it but the townspeople were too eager to see how this turned out even the Guards were having trouble getting through. Eventually he had to physically shove people aside to get to the center of the ring. He pushed through the last few people in time to see Idolaf hamstring the young Stormcloak and as the man was one the ground the Battle-Born was going for the kill but Allester was there first his Dwarven sword catching the man's Iron blade causing it to snap in half the broken tip bouncing back and catching Idolaf in the eye not killing him but definitely blinding him.

It was just at this time the Guards broke through the throng of people seeing two men wounded and bleeding and a third standing above them with sword drawn. It didn't even matter there was no blood on Allester's blade he was quickly hauled off to Dragonreach and spent the remainder of the Mid-Year Celebration in the dungeon until his bail was paid by the young man who's life he had saved. Apparently his squad had sold their weapons and shields to pay it, after that he couldn't punish them for shirking their mission the night before. They spent the remainder of the week in Whiterun doing their job. The tolling of a ships bell brought the old man back to the present, he shook his head and took another draught of the Spiced Wine he had been sipping watching the sun slowly march across the sky.

[Lord Tully]

The Mid-Year Celebration, an utterly bland name for such a festive day, this one marked one of Shava's very few times in Skyrim's Capital, and The Argonian was glad she made the trip from Riften. The city was full of color today, as decorations were put up all over in preparation for the night, and already the vendors had wheeled out a wondrous spread of food and drink. The smell of the air and sounds of the people made for a truly peasant atmosphere, it made Shava almost regret the real reason she had come to the city. With no time to truly enjoy the early festivities, Shava walked out the city gates and made her way towards the docks.

As she walked down the stone path away from the gates, Shava took the time to take in the surrounding area, by looking at it, one would never guess that just a few years before there had been a great siege here, one that placed the wrong king on the throne. Shaking her head free of that thought, Shava swallowed her bitterness of that fact, she could do nothing about it, so tried not to dwell on it. That still didn't mean she liked it when she passed Stormcloak soldier instead of Imperials at the watch towers.

When she was done enjoying the scenery, Shava hurried the rest of the way to the dock, she was here to board a very specific ship here and did not wish to miss her chance. Luckily it seemed she was among the first to arrive, as Shava found herself standing near a large elderly Nord man, she clicked her large toe claws against the wooden dock to draw his attention, "Dreaming of better days My Lord?" she asked as he seemed a touch distracted by his own thoughts. "I am here to join your crew Lord Winterblade, is there something I must sign or do I just head up to the deck?"

[TsukiHime]

Sovia carries the notice and look at it once again, she look around nervously "please dont tell me i am late.. Or lost.. Or the place changes.." she says and tears start to appear on her eyes. She really cant do anything right, that the reason why her own family sent her to this adventure. Her hand shaking as she continues to look around hoping find someone who is kind enough to help her.

[Rayne7]

Graesin leapt down from the rocky cliffs that overlooked the road that led to the docks. Landing lightly on his feet, he stood and looked around for several moments. He disliked being so near the city and for the thousandth time he wondered how he would fare being away from the forests for so long. As a wood elf, he preferred a place where he could blend in seamlessly and use his bow as his weapon, whereas at sea he would have no such advantages. Regardless though, they'd need someone to scout the land beyond the beaches while the ship waited in the bay, a job he was perfectly suitable for. Last thing they'd want to do is set ashore with hostile inhabitants nearby.

Besides, he needed away from Skyrim. There were too many enemies looking for him, and they'd found him more than once. Only luck and skill had kept him from becoming a prisoner again. Hopefully they'd be far less likely to find him at sea; after all, someone who lived in the forests wouldn't usually find a notice for people to go on a ship if they never visited cities or villages, it was only a stroke of luck that one of the mercenary bands he'd killed had a member who'd thought of changing his life. Instead Graesin now got to make a change in his.

Seeing the docks and the ship he was looking for, he started that way when he noticed a young female altmer who seemed to be nearly in tears, and as he listened it seemed it had to do with anxiety about whether she was in the right place. Looking her up and down, he decided she couldn't possibly be part of the Thalmor, making the decision of whether or not to help her even more difficult.

He started to pass her by, but then stopped and silently cursed himself.

"You looking for Lord Winterblade?" he asked.

[TsukiHime]

Sovia jump to the side while screaming "aahh..!! " then she look at the person who talk to her "ummm.. Th...then..can you help me sir.. I am so sorry to burden you though.." sovia speak loud at first and slowly at the end of her talking her voice becomes soft like she is mumbling.

[Zenteer]

“Excuse me mate, pardon me, can you just move a tad bit, sorry, excuse me.” Arorn maintained a steady line of apologizes and request as and weaved through the thick crowd of citizens. Gods, why do there have to be so many. It felt like they were deliberately trying to block his way. Arorn had a sudden urge to summon his Dremora Lord, that thing will easily clear a path. Although, it’ll probably get him arrested by the Stormcloaks. Still it was a pain to walk through the crowd of annoying loud jostling people.

Eventually Arorn came out from the Solitude gates and into the once open fresh area, sadly today it was also swarming with people going about their business. Arorn groaned, it was going to be a pain to walk through these people. Arorn muttered a spell and a blue see-through wolf was conjured next to him.

“Come on Dagger, let’s go.” The wolf shook his fur and lea the way, clearing a path for Arorn. Although not everyone moved, most people did. Arorn eventually managed to make his way to the docks, which was noticeably less crowded. Arorn kept Dagger with as he searched for the ship. “Bloody hell…what was the ship called? Like…..Strum Beaker….Stork Beak? Storm Beak? Storm Beaker? Strum Beak? Storm…Break…Storm Breaker…Storm Breaker!” Arorn, with the ship in his mind, glanced out at the dock packed with ships, and realized they all look exactly the same. They all have a mast and are floating on water. They are also made out of wood.

As Arorn walked down the dock, with Dagger at his heel, he noticed a couple standing near him. He ignored them and walked past, but quickly did a U-Turn when he heard the name Lord Winterblade mentioned. That was the Captain of the…Storm….something.

“Sorry to burden you though…” The girl babbled at random volumes to the man next to her.

“Do you happen to know where his ship is? I myself am also looking for him.” Arorn interrupted.

Dagger sat down on the hard wooden floor, staring at the two strangers curiously. Arorn scratched behind Dagger’s ears as he spoke.

"My name is Arorn Hester by the way." Arorn said.

[StormyNyte]

The trip from Morthal to Solitude went quickly and was largely uneventful. Khinada had barely stopped for rest and even opted to travel through the night to be here today. Dawn broke just as the city gates rose into view. She could tell by the rising cacophony as she strode through the gates that the city folk were enraptured by the mid-year celebration. Tired though she was, she couldn't keep the grin from her whiskered face as she strode through the bustling streets. There was nothing better to her than a large celebration. So many colors, so many wonderful aromas, so many unsuspecting and unaware people.

The packed city streets made it all to easy for her. People bumped and jostled as they went about their revelry, each time someone brushed against her, a clawed hand would slip deftly into their pocket or satchel to withdraw gold, a piece of jewelry, or some other bauble of interest; more often than not, the items would be largely unknown until she inspected them later. Her victims never seemed to be the wiser, but as she neared a group of approaching Stormcloak guards on patrol she stayed her hand. She could feel their icy, judgmental gaze on her as they drew closer and she gave them a stiff nod as they passed. She had no intentions of getting herself arrested before she reached her destination.

As she passed a string of food venter stalls, she took a deep breath through her nose, savoring the smells as her stomach voiced its complaint. Eyeing each stalls wares, she settled on a stand that sold fresh breads and cheeses. Reaching into a pocket, she withdrew some of her freshly acquired gold and exchanged it for a loaf of bread and a slice of edam cheese. Further down the street, she stopped at another stall and purchased a bottle of mead that she slipped into the satchel hanging at her side. She ate the cheese and half the bread as she strode toward the docks, her mind buzzing over what adventures awaited her once on board the Storm Breaker.

Before long, the dock and ship came into view. Stashing the uneaten portion of her bread away, she quickened her pace. Her eyes glistened with eagerness as she neared, her tail twitching as she spied who she assumed was the captain, Lord Winterblade, seated at a small table on the dock beside the ship's draw plank. Once close enough to be heard, she threw up a clawed hand in greeting and called out, "Khinada is pleased to see she is not too late in arriving. She would be most honored to join Lord Winterblade in his great quest, yes."

[Rayne7]

"Indeed I do." Graesin said, his eyes taking in the new arrival and his conjured wolf that made him give an internal grimace. Conjured pets couldn't be tamed by his kind, and therefore were treated with caution. "It's right this way."

Leading the pair, he kept his ears open, listening for the sound of a sword clearing a sheath, an arrow being drawn, or magic being readied. Even the best illusionist who could cast silently tended to give it away somehow in his experience. That being said, he didn't like having them behind him and he kept his right hand on his dagger hilt, ready to draw it in a moment's notice if they proved to be more of a threat than he anticipated. The young female Altmer he doubted; while he didn't know her abilities, her personality wasn't such that he worried about her stabbing him in the back. But the other one...he would need watching.

Seeing the Captain that he'd been watching the past couple of days, he suppressed a grimace. A Stormcloak, Graesin didn't know his stance on elves, but it likely was standard racism. And as a Bosmer who seemed to be leading a pair of Altmer, he doubted he would get a friendly response. But he kept his face stoic and his posture unthreatening.

"I'm here to sign on."

- - - Updated - - -

"Indeed I do." Graesin said, his eyes taking in the new arrival and his conjured wolf that made him give an internal grimace. Conjured pets couldn't be tamed by his kind, and therefore were treated with caution. "It's right this way."

Leading the pair, he kept his ears open, listening for the sound of a sword clearing a sheath, an arrow being drawn, or magic being readied. Even the best illusionist who could cast silently tended to give it away somehow in his experience. That being said, he didn't like having them behind him and he kept his right hand on his dagger hilt, ready to draw it in a moment's notice if they proved to be more of a threat than he anticipated. The young female Altmer he doubted; while he didn't know her abilities, her personality wasn't such that he worried about her stabbing him in the back. But the other one...he would need watching.

Seeing the Captain that he'd been watching the past couple of days, he suppressed a grimace. A Stormcloak, Graesin didn't know his stance on elves, but it likely was standard racism. And as a Bosmer who seemed to be leading a pair of Altmer, he doubted he would get a friendly response. But he kept his face stoic and his posture unthreatening.

"I'm here to sign on."

[TsukiHime]

Sovia face look so glad but when the guy summon a creature her face wide in horror and pale face almost like seeing a ghost. she follow the guy like a zombie thinking that this adventure will surely kill her "w..w..w..w..what ki..ki..kind of cr..creature is this sir..??" she ask with scared tone. She hope that he not thinking that she is up to something though, even if she really up to something is that she wants to run away.. far far away.. where she can only help people with medication skill and restoration spells not attacking and killing with destruction spells. She hates killing actually even if its a monster they deserve to live the same as other races and her train of thought that makes her being sent away to adventure.

[Jacogos]

Daimus stared at the white-hot blade impatiently, eying the next place his hammer would need to strike with a discerning eye. This would be the third weapon he had made that day, orders coming in like wildfire even with things settling down on the mainland. Not everyone could be happy, and it was evident by the constant need for arms of war.

Sparks flew from the steel as Daimus's hammer connected with it, flattening the last curve out to a respectable angle (or, rather, lack thereof). Gripping his tongs a bit harder, the Dunmer smith lifted the blade and slowly dipped it into the water trough beside him, steam hissing in protest as the much colder water met the superheated blade.

Straightening, Daimus began to feed his forge a bit of Flames from his hand. At that moment, a footsteps and a shadow casting over his workplace notified him that someone was approaching.

"If ya want somethin' made, yer gonna have ta wait. I got orders out the ass and I'm falling behind as is. Was'yer name?" he asked without looking behind him, eyes focused on heating his forge back to a suitable temperature.

Mirida stood tall beside the working smith, a hard working man, with sweat dripping from him she approached him respectfully. "I got a offer for you Daimus, me and Lord Winterblade will be going out onto the sea and we need good recruits which would involve a good blacksmith and by the diedra are you the best smith on this isle which is why I want you another person to trust on this voyage of ours."

Mirida spoke out, offering Daimus the one and only spot on this ship as the ships blacksmith.

Daimus turned in surprise as soon as he recognized the voice, fire sputtering out of his hand as he let go of the magic. Brow furrowing in thought, Daimus listened to the woman's offer and frowned.

"Now Mirida, I respect you and obviously you respect me enough ta offer, but I'll be damned if I'm just goin' to up and leave my trade while its going so well. I'm making a respectable livin', Mirida, and I can't just... well, leave!" he said, continuing to frown at the woman. A ghost out of his past, just showing up without even a letter. How long had it been? Five, six years? He barely remembered.

Clearly noticing his hesitation as to join or not Mirida sighed, "Look... You owe me got damn it, if you join us on this voyage you owe me nothing and you can live as meant for you. Besides, there is a small steady fee for just being ready to work on the ship you know, I will make sure of it."
Mirida finished awaiting her reply while maintaining her composure, respectfully keeping her eye on Daimus.

Daimus managed to deepen his frown while his eyes widened in realization.

"You wouldn't bring that old ghost up now, would ye?" He studied the woman for a moment, a particular look in her eye informing him that she wouldn't back down now. "Of course ye would... Fine. I owe you, and if I can trust ya like I once did, this'll be the last of it." Daimus realized he had people to pay back, stuff to pack, all sorts of new things to worry about.

"Winterblade, eh? Das a name I've not heard in a blue moon or two... Was he gettin' on about with this? A treasure hunt or some such lunacy?"

Mirida smirked and a glint lit up in her eyes. Daimus almost sighed again. "You could say it's something like that...."



Daimus downed the last of his Sujamma, the last bit of the stuff he brought from home. Well, he still had the casket of Ashfire, but.... that was for a special occassion. The Dunmer eyed those coming aboard with mixed parts antipathy and anxiety, his mind only the slightest bit foggy from the alcohol. Not a single Dunmer... Sure, there seemed to be a group of Elves hanging out on the docks that looked like they might be heading this way, but they weren't likely to be any friendlier than the group he already had.

"At least Winterblade hasn't said much..." he muttered to himself, nodding politely at the Khajiit that boarded. Daimus, with his connection to the first-mate, had been the first to arrive, spurred forward by the promise of his debt to the Nord woman being lifted upon completion of this voyage.

"Oy, Miri. Did he ever say how many people he was gonna take before settin' off?" Daimus asked the woman nearby, tossing the last of his flask into the harbor behind him. He was seated on the edge of the boat opposite the boarding plank, foot propped up on a barrel on unknown contents. Probably a barrel of cow meat, knowing Nords.

Outfitted in his Chitin Armor that covered his entire body save his head, Daimus was certainly one to look at twice. Here in Skyrim, he was probably the only owner of such a set of armor which was mostly localized to Raven Rock, along with the Bonemold armor of the Redoran Guard. He wouldn't complain about the stares, though, even if it did garner him too much unwanted attention. Shaking his head at the awkwardness of it all, the Dunmer blacksmith waited for the rest of the crew to arrive.

[SikstaSlathalin]

Lord Winterblade's eyes had gone unfocused again as the wine took a little hold of him and his walks down memory lane continued, but this little stroll was cut short by the sound of approaching feet, clawed ones at that staying the urge to grab Firestorm besides him he looked up and smiled at the Argonian and Khajiit women as they approached his little table.
"Indeed so lassie, back when I was young enough to stare off and not fall asleep." He laughed softly getting to his feet towering over the young women.
"Yes, actually there is a contract here, that every crewmember needs to sign before we can begin." He said this loud enough for the Elves that had just arrived two Altmer and a Bosmer to hear. He pulled five sheets of paper out from the desk's drawer and handed them to the new arrivals before placing five quills and two inkwells on the desk between them.
"Here you all go, it's a pretty simple wee contract. In it there is what our mission is, what myself and the Officer's promise and what you can expect from us, and what is expected from you." He points to the small paragraph at the top of the page and reads it aloud.
"Our mission is simple, we are contracted by High King Ulfric to create an detailed and perfectly up-to-date map of Tamriel and the areas around it. This will require at least three years of sailing, and an untold amount of days exploring on land mapping everything out. It will be dangerous and there is no guarantee everyone will survive but if you have the courage an ambition the rewards will be great." With the mission statement read he moved on to the Ship Officers' promise he points to the first little dot and read it off for everyone the others following suit.


"The Officers promise to treat everyone fairly despite, age, sex, race, past, allegiances, or feelings towards High King Ulfric, the Stormcloaks, or Nords in general."
"We promise to give everyone an equal share in any treasure or loot we come across."
"You will be paid for a minimum of three years with this contract, but you will continued to be paid until the voyage is done or if you wish to leave after your contract is up."
"You will be given credit for every contribution you give towards the ship, crew, and/or our quest in general."
"The Officers will do their best to insure everyone is healthy, well-fed, and kept alive for however long possible."
"If worst comes to worst I will personally make sure your remains are returned to your family if you so wish and all your equipment will go with you unless you wish to donate it somewhere or sell it. In which case the gold will be sent to wherever you wish it to be sent to."
"And lastly we will do our best to make sure everyone is treated fairly by everyone else. Racism and prejudice will not be tolerated aboard this vessel."

He finished up the Ship's promise looking each of his new crew in the eyes gauging their feelings on what was said. He pointed his finger at the lines emblazoned with his name, his first mate Mirida's, the Blacksmith Daimus Morvayn then a blank line for the recruits to sign.

He moved onto the bottom of the contract where the Officer's expectations of the crew were he pointed to the dots once more rattling them off.

"As a member of this crew you will be expected to show loyalty to the Officers and to the crew as a whole."
"You will be expected to take care of not only yourselves but each other. We'll be together for a long while and letting your shipmate get injured because you don't like them will not be tolerated."
"You are each given a lockable sea chest to hold your valuables, take care of it and the key because you will not be given another."
"Just like in any Guild there are a few things you cannot do and will be punished for it. No stealing from each other and no killing or fighting with each other."
"Do your best to remain clean and disease free, it's a big ship but it's still a ship and any disease will spread like wildfire from prow to stern."
"Be civil in any land we make berth in, we are representatives of Skyrim and High King Ulfric despite how we personally feel about it."
"Despite what land we're in this is a Skyrim vessel, and we are all subject to the laws of Skyrim."
"Be civil with each other, any problems can be brought to the Officers and we will help."
"You are responsible for telling the Officers any problems you are having. We can't help if we don't know and we won't be babysitting you."
"Men and women have separate quarters and you are expected to respect that boundary. Relations won't be stopped but nothing unwelcome or criminal will be allowed."
"We are explorers not pirates. While we won't back down from a fight we can win, but we will not go looting ships or hunting down personal vendettas. Any crime you commit either on shore or while at sea you will be held responsible for and given over to the authorities."
"While alcohol is allowed drugs like Skooma are not, and even with alcohol take it in moderation. Being hung over won't save you from first morning watch duty."

He finished the last of the reading and pointed at single blank line for everyone to sign.
"Once everyone has signed you may go aboard and pick out your trunks and bunks. Once everyone is settled in we can head back on up to Solitude and join in on the celebration of Mid-Year." He smiled leaning back waiting for them to sign.

[Raindrop]

¨

Mirida was standing with close range from Daimus having talked trash of casual conversation earlier and it was recently that it became obvious that those that just walked the harbor was signing up on this ship. Mirida was looking forward to drilling them all into a respectable shape.

Except those that was standing next to Allester, they had a sailor experienced crew aboard and of course that was the crew that kind of came along with the ship as they know it from inside out.
Either way that felt irrelevant at the moment, what did catch her eye though was that the crew did seem... Rather foreign, not that she was too bothered but it did stir tension into the air around her.

[StormyNyte]

Khinada offered a warm smile to the captain, but his slight resistance to grab for his blade did not go unnoticed to her. He was a Nord, and like so many other Nords she had encountered in the past, he probably disliked her kind too. Be that as it may, she was not about to let the man’s personal feelings dissuade her from what could very well be the biggest adventure of her life. Taking one of the offered contracts, she read over it herself as he read it aloud.

She smirked slightly as they went down the list, but her demeanor wavered a little when she read over the part about if the worst should come. It was difficult at best to track down a caravan on the move when you really needed to, it was nearly impossible to find one just to get something back to them. Her ears twitched, making the golden rings clink softly against one another. She glanced over to the Argonian woman beside her, wondering if her family was just as difficult to track. Turning her attention back to the contract, she continued to follow his reading.

The personal chests peeked her interest, but she put the thought out of her mind. Chances were that if anything happened to disappear, she would likely be the first one they blamed. She highly doubted the part about relations would be a problem, but the part about Skooma not being aloud almost made her frown. She did have two bottles of Skooma with her, but she was by no means addicted, it was more for recreational use than anything. But what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, so she kept silent.

With a resolute nod, she reached for a quill, dipped it into the ink pot, and made her mark on the paper. Handing Lord Winterblade the contract back, she gave a genuine smile. “Khinada is most excited for this venture, she thanks you for this most wonderful opportunity.” That said, she made her way onto the ship, nodding to the Dunmer blacksmith as he watched them board, giving his strange armor an appraising look, before making her way below deck to claim a spot.

[StormWolf]

Too many people. . .

It had been a long time since Starkad had left the bleak walls of his ancestral home - more than a whole season. Mid-Year had snuck upon him like a dagger in the night, the festivities of the people of Solitude filling the very air with energy. Taking in a breath through his nose, Starkad could smell the fresh baked sweet rolls and the scent of warm honey on the wind. The mead hall was close. Starkad had half a mind to stop by and grab a crate of fresh mead for the journey, but decided against it.

Even though it was only mid-year, the air so far north was a nipping cold, and colder days were coming as winter drew closer and closer. Starkad Long-Fang scanned the crowded streets with his icy, penetrating eyes, remaining cautious and distrustful of nearly everyone he set eyes upon. Pulling up the wolf fur-lined hood of his traveling cloak, the towering Nord shrugged into the leather straps of his pack. Sitting around and watching the people mill about was not going to get him to the docks any faster, and he was no rogue, so slipping through the congested crowd was out of the question. Starkad, as usual, would be forced to take a less-subtle course of action. Following the smell of salt on the air, Starkad proceeded towards the Solitude harbor, shoving people out of his way with enough force to set most off their balance. Some belligerent, drunk individuals confronted Starkad about his plowing through the crowd, but most were deterred after the Nord's baleful stare all but burned a hole through their skull. One fool-hardy individual threw a punch at Starkad's stomach. The fool was left with a broken hand and a black eye as Starkad continued his march to the harbor at a purposeful pace.

Pausing to look over the docks, Starkad scanned his surroundings again with the trained diligence of a soldier and the keen eye of an apex predator. He was no stranger to the kind of scum that was oft found thriving on the docks of Skyrim. Ever since the defeat of the Empire and the slow alienation of the East Empire Trading Company, freebooters and bootleggers had been able to capitalize on the lax monitoring of shipments. While he may be removed from the world in his fortress, he kept a close eye on all he could see, and Starkad took a great notice of growing skooma imports. His Stormcloak days were over, though. No longer the paragon soldier or figure of the law. Starkad was not even viewed as a true son of Skyrim by most of his race anymore, due to his choice of romance. While it vexed him, his care of other people's thoughts towards him were insignificant to his worries for Zha'raji.

Never had she sent a letter so dire and desperate, and never one coded. To take such caution, she must truly be in a great deal of peril. After five months, she came back to him for help when she needed it most. It meant something. . . or at least Starkad hoped it did. Finally, Starkad's icy eyes settled on a growing crowd outside a particularly large vessel. Most sailing crews would be out enjoying the Mid-Year Festival, and as far as Starkad knew, there was only one that was recruiting during such festivities. Descending the stone and wood stairs to the main dock, Starkad approached the growing crowd, his approach heralded by the heavy thud of his feet upon the wood planks. Coming up to the rear of the group, Starkad easily stood over most others signing up. Locking eyes with the man in charge, Starkad pulled back his hood. His hair was like that of liquid gold, two braids hanging from his temples, the rest of his wild mane tied back. The scars were highly visible against Starkad's pale skin and thick beard. While some may not view Starkad as a son of Skyrim politically or socially, he looked every bit the part, even having thin iron chains woven into his braids.

"It has been a while, Lord-Captain. . ." Starkad said in a deep tone, chilly as the night's breeze.

[Jacogos]

Argonian, Khajiit, Altmer, Bosmer... another Altmer... An ironic absence of Imperials. I wonder why... Daimus mused, peering over the faces gathered before the Captain. He was blathering on about the contract they were supposed to sign... Had he known that the man would put him into a position of authority, he might've denied Mirida's offer even with the debt. He was nowhere near a people person. Especially this kind of people...

And then there was one more, a massive man by any standard. Daimus barely had to hear his speech or see his face before he named the man a Nord; the man's carriage and build could possibly belong to an orc, but no sane Orsimer would wear those skins. None that he had met, in any case.

The man certainly made his presence known, speaking to the Captain like an old friend. Not another one... With any luck, this Nord was a better smith than he, and Daimus could be on his merry way by sunset. He couldn't be so lucky.

"All we missing is a Redguard, an Orc, a Breton, and an Imperial..." Daimus muttered, eying the two Altmer with particular disdain. Nords he could deal with; if they didn't say nothin' to ya, then there was no problem. Altmer had that bloody air of superiority about them; it didn't matter if they said anything to you, their looks said it all. One of them didn't appear too awful, at least; the girl looked a scared mess, more likely to break into tears than bite your head off. The man looked a little older than he and looked every bit a mage even without the familiar to name him. He might be a problem...

Next was the two creatures. Khajiit were thieves; everyone knew that. This one had that particular glint in her eyes that told him she might try something if given the chance. He would walk carefully around her. The Argonian was polite, another woman. He had never met enough of them to make a good judgement on the race, so he'd be watchful of her all the same. Both were of an age with him, if he was any judge of looks. He'd rather not look much longer at them, so he moved on.

Lastly, the Bosmer. Wood Elves were one of the few races he didn't just dislike outright, so he was rather happy to have at least one on board. The man had a dark look to him, though he seemed to try and hide it with his stance. He'd be one to watch out for in a fight, behind the three Nords. Daimus nodded mentally and returned his gaze to the Captain, who was finishing up his speech. Now they signed, and they'd all go check their stuff, and Daimus would have some time to himself for all of a few hours.

Just the way I like it... he thought with a faint smirk.

[Zenteer]

"W..w..w...w…what…ki…ki…kind of cr...creature is this, sir..??" The female elf questioned Arorn nervously, she looked like she was about to pass out.

Arorn gave a reassuring smile as they strolled near Lord Winterblade’s desk. “Don’t worry about Dagger, he’s a good Wolf Familiar. He won’t hurt you, unless you plan on attacking me.” Dagger trailed behind Arorn, panting happily. Arorn swapped his attention to Lord Winterblade as he began speaking, and started scratching Dagger behind his ears.
He listened to Lord Winterblade about the contract while he surveyed the crew. A few of the assembled were Nords and like all Nords were big, brawny, and looked like they could squish your head open with their bare hands. There was also a Khajit, Arorn never really liked the Khajits. They were mostly thieve, skooma dealers, and basically a nuisance. Arorn had met many Khajits in his life and most of them were thieves. Actually, all of them might have been thieves. He did randomly lose his golden ring near that Khajit Caravan, never did find it….. Most of the time they were deterred by his conjurations next to him. Most of them generally think it’s a bad idea to attempt to pickpocket someone with a Dremora Lord with a giant greatsword strapped to his back. Arorn broke of his studying to return his gaze back to Lord Winterblade as he was finishing up his speech. Most of the rules seemed reasonable enough, it was also fairly simple, don't kill each other, don't beat each other up, don't steal, etc. Basic common sense stuff.

Arorn halted scratching Dagger’s ears as he scrutinized the parchment that he was given for a while. As he completed his scrutiny he dipped his pen into the ink and signed his mark. Dagger wandered off slightly as Arorn was signing. He came toward an Leather-Armored Argonian. He glanced up her odd reptilian face and cocked his head curiously.

[StormyNyte]

Once below deck, Khinada quickly set about choosing her bunk. She settled on the one farthest to the back, preferring to sleep with her back to a wall instead of to someone who was quite frankly a stranger to her, especially a stranger who potentially disliked her. She sat on the edge of the bunk for a moment, testing the rushes it was stuffed with while she let her eyes wander over the ship's interior. The lighting was dim and the air slightly musty, but it was tolerable. It would have to be tolerable for such a long journey.

Bringing her attention back to her own area, she moved from her bunk to kneel in front of her sea chest. Taking the old brass key from where it lay on top of the lid, she leaned in to examine the lock. It was an old design and probably wouldn't take much effort to pick if she wanted to, but in such confined space it would be best for her if she resisted the urge to snoop. Giving a huff of a laugh, she unlocked the chest and began to unpack her things. If they were going to get to go back for the festivities, she wanted as much room in her pack as possible for anything she decided she might need extra.

With a quick glance to the stairs to make sure no one was coming below deck yet, she withdrew her two bottles of Skooma and laid them flat in the bottom of the chest, covering them over with the spare clothes she brought with her. Once that was safely packed, she set about unpacking the day's picked items. Two gold rings, a jade and onyx circlet which would fetch a nice price, a small amethyst, a small sum of gold, and a rather odd looking small gem that she'd never seen before. It was a strange purplish-pink iridescent stone, possibly one of those soul stones she had heard about, but she had never actually seen before.

Once all those were packed away, she pulled out the bottle of mead, uncorked it and took a long draw, before recorking it and packing it into the chest as well. She packed her weapons away next, along with her potions, poisons, alchemy ingredients, and half eaten loaf of bread until all she still carried was her empty satchel and the gold in her coin purse which she kept in an inside pocket of her tunic. Once she finished, she closed and locked the chest, slipping the key into the same pocket, and made her way back on deck. Once back outside, she took a deep breath, savoring the salty air as she moved to lean against the ship's railing.

Her tail twitched as she watched the rest of the group, ears perked as she waited for the others to board and get settled. Letting her gaze drift back toward the Dunmer, she chanced at conversation. "Khinada is relieved to see that this voyage will have a capable blacksmith on hand. There will surely be much adventure to be had, best to not let one's weapons grow dull, yes?" She half expected the smith to ignore her, but if they were all going to be on this journey together she would have to try.

[Lord Tully]

As more an more people filed onto the docks in search of a place aboard The Storm Breaker, Shava began to feel a bit more at ease. The Argonian took comfort in being part of a larger whole, it brought her back to being part of the Imperial Legion, and while some may have preferred a smaller crew, more was indeed merrier in Shava's mind, so long as there was room for everyone.

Shava listened closely as Lord Winterblade read of the contract, it was much as she expected, neat and to the point, with reminders of all the obvious rules just to make sure everything was covered. With few surprises in the contract Shava took the reading as a chance to size up the rest of the crew, while she had expected Nords to turn up, as well as a Khajiit, they always seemed to find themselves in every kind of adventure, Shava was surprised by the number of Elves present. Two Altmer, a Bosmer and a Dunmer, for all the Stormcloak's efforts to drive these peoples out of Skyrim they seemed surprisingly undeterred in their intentions of joining this venture.

When Lord Winterblade finished reading the contract, Shava stepped forward, and signed her name to the contract placed in front of her. She had come a long way to do this, and Shava was determined to see it through to the end. She turned to go up to the ship when she found a wolf sitting on the dock starring at her, it was clearly not a normal wolf, she had seen enough of those to be able to tell, but she did not know exactly what kind it was. As the beast tilted its head as looked Shava simply stared straight back into its eyes, "What do you want?" she asked, Shava would not have been entirely surprised if the wolf was capable of answering, but did not really expect it to.

[Rayne7]

Graesin barely listened to what Winterblade said, instead studying his new shipmates with unconcealed interest as he sized them up. It seemed everyone was doing the same thing he was; figuring out who was what. The big Nord who showed up was of little interest to him; a stormcloak that knew the captain. Aside from that he was big, strong, and well-armed. But so had been several who had tried to kill him.

The Khajit was also of little interest; having nothing worth stealing that he wouldn't immediately notice, he didn't expect trouble from that direction. Especially since they'd be sharing the same ship, making hiding evidence all but impossible, and if anything of his was taken, he'd sink the ship to find it. That was one thing he didn't tolerate: people messing with his property. He'd lost everything he owned once before, and he'd worked hard to get it back. He'd killed more people than he cared to think about for taking everything away from him before, and it wouldn't happen again without them taking his life.

The argonian wasn't a problem either. The woman seemed amiable enough, and while he might not trust her, he wouldn't consider her his greatest threat on this voyage. While she might be a good fighter, she struck him as being if not trustworthy at least she would be friendly. Of all of those so far, he didn't truly consider them either as a threat nor people he needed to be overly concerned about.

It was the mages that he was wary of; they tended to do well at hiding their loyalties and intentions, and their powers were always impossible to gauge, ranging from non-threatening to extremely dangerous. As someone who had spent time at the mercy of a mage, he had an automatic distrust for anyone who could use magic and always kept an eye on them. As such, the Altmer and the Dunmer were of particular interest; even the younger one whose inexperience was in itself a danger, calling into question her ability to control her magic if she'd even begun to tap into the inheritance of her blood.

The entire assessment took the time for the captain to finish speaking. Looking over the document, he signed the piece of paper with one thing in mind; when things turned into a fiery storm unleashed, paper burns. He'd keep the agreement as far as anyone else did towards him. Otherwise, he'd do unto them the same they did unto him. It was as simple as that. As soon as the paper was signed, he looked to Winterblade.

"Mind if I take the Crow's Nest? I'm not much for celebrations."

[TsukiHime]

Sovia listen the rules with blank face, that is really so many rules and she hope that doesnt have to remember all of it. She sign the paper with shaking hand. she look at the people who comes and join, she hope she can do well and not troubling anybody.

Sovia hold her staff tightly, "will i ever be alright in here.??" ask glace to herself. She look at all races and it seem this adventure really something exciting to them and sovia doesnt understand that. She seems to notice that some of them has dislike for each other, she see khajits and she also know about what can they do. They like to steal and Sovia doesnt really matter with it because she doesnt have anything to be stole, well.. except her life that is.

With all the tenshion of dislikes she feel around her, she sighs "why cant they introduce each other first.. then get to know each other..??" ask glace to her self. Sovia think maybe because they have bitter past that they cant really trust anymore.

[Zenteer]

Arorn returned the recently signed contract and proceeded to the ship to unload his gear. There was precious little of that, a few changes of clothing, gold & jewels, and etc. As e was clambering aboard, he gave a quick glance behind him, feeling something was different. He furrowed his brows in confusion for a second before he realized Dagger was gone, He scanned the area for a bit and spotted Dagger bothering a female Argonian. Arorn gave a short sigh, and walked back down the ship to retrieve him, and to probably apologize to her.

Dagger barked a response to her question, but it could mean anything from “You look funny” to “I want to savagely murder you and eat your corpse”, although the first choice seems a bit more accurate. Dagger sat up and started moving closer to her and proceeded to sniff her leg. Arorn came toward a quick jog toward her and called Dagger away from her. Dagger backed off and walked back to his master, with his tail wagging. “Sorry for that, Dagger can get a bit curious sometimes.” As Arorn spoke, Dagger returned to her and continued to sniff her clawed feet, tail wagging happily. Suddenly he jumped upon her, at his full height standing up he’d reached just about her neck. As he was on her, he started licking her face.

“Dagger, come back here, stop doing that….he’s just really happy and he’s greeting you…don’t worry he won’t hurt you...Dagger….”

[TsukiHime]

Sovia move to the corner to make her self unnoticed. She look at the many people and her mind flash back to before she begin her journey.

"sovia.. The altmer elder already made a decicions for you" her father said and sovia look down, she know the decicion will be a bad thing. "you have to on a journey to retrive your pride as an atllmer.." and sovia stunned "journey father..??" she ask with disbelief. Her father nods "this is the best.. You must see for your self that you are better than any other lowly races out there.." her father said with pride. Sovia look down and nods but in her heart she really doesnt like it.

Sovia blink her eyes a couple of times and sighs, why altmer has to have a great pride..?? Why not just be normal..?? She thought. She look at the sky and thinking that all races have their own unique traits and no one is above others, this is why she is so sad why the altmer cant see her point of view.

[Jacogos]

Damius watched for any more newcomers as the rest of them settled down below decks. The Captain seemed sure that this was about as much as they would get, and Daimus would be fine with that. However, life tended to throw curved fireballs at him every so often to try and catch him off guard, and it did so at times when his guard was indeed down.

This might be one such time, when his guard was directed in the wrong direction entirely. from behind him, a distinctly Khajiit voice spoke to him and nearly gave him a heart-attack, the Dunmer swearing quietly as he turned to face the woman. Blasted padded feet and their silent fucking... he trailed off mentally.

"Yeah, yeah, that's what I'm 'ere for... Make ya new ones if ya lose yours, or if you're just itchin' for a new style, who knows. Within reason, it's no charge, according to the boss." That last bit irritated him to no end. How was he supposed to make a living if he could swindle these hicks out of house and home? Hrm. Maybe that wasn't the right choice of metaphor.

He almost turned back to return to his watch, but something about the 'camaraderie' the captain had been preaching made him continue the conversation. Damn Miri and her debt...

"Wha's your job 'ere, then?" he asked. "Or rather, what're you offerin'?" Surely the crew should have people specializing in different things. If they were all a bunch of sneak-thieves, they were going to get murdered if they were caught in the open in broad daylight. Luckily I already know we got three Nords to cover us there...

[SikstaSlathalin]

As the newbloods signed the contracts Lord Winterblade nodded to the actual sailors that were lounging around the docks on his orders ti study the mercs as much as they were studying each other. Signalling for them to get aboard and make final preps for the journey. He had expected more in the way of mercs and explorers. From just looking at his group he had more rouges than warriors. One maybe two mages even though he felt young Sovia would be a cabin girl more than anything. But if there's one thing he's learned in his long life it's never judge a book by it's cover, the Gods would show him what they were made of in due time.

He soon heard the heavy bootfalls of someone he hadn't seen since the rebellion.
"Indeed it has Ice Wolf. Glad to see the Gods haven't dared to strike you down yet." He smiled at the wideer man handing him a contract and quill. "I'm sure you overheard me explain the contract here so I'll not bore you with repeating it. As soon as you're signed feel free to pick a rack and download your gear." As he handedd the paper and quill off he heard a voice behind him asking to head up to the crow's nest. Turning he saw it was the rather dark Bosmer Graesin archer by the looks of him but that wasn't an unusual thing for his people, what caught the old Nord's attention was the mer's eyes and how he scanned around the crew. They were the eyes of one that has killed and done it a lot. He didn't seem like soldier, eyes were all wrong. Most soldiers who have seen too much death look more like Starkad, distant, unfocused, maybe a slight bit mornful. This Graesin didn't have those eyes his were focused and precise Allester would put his septims on assassin, he just hoped there wasn't a contract out on any of his crew and the young man was here to collect.
"Ay ya can lad. You and Mirida can take first watch. I'll have the cook make ya something to eat." He smiled at the Elf. And moved back to Stark.

[StormyNyte]

Khinada was very careful not to let her amusement at the Dunmer’s start show. She hadn’t intended to sneak up on him, at least not this time. “Many apologies, Blacksmith, Khinada sometimes forgets how quiet she can be.” A flicker of movement caught her eye, bringing her attention to the Agronian woman who now had to fight off a very friendly summoned wolf with the help of the Mage that called him. Her dark lips spread into a grin at the situation before returning her attention to the Dunmer.

“No charge? That is a most rare gift for such skill.” Her tail swished lazily from side to side as she let her gaze slide back over to the captain and the rest of the crew, lingering on each Nord face she saw. She took special notice of the hulk of a Nord who looked as though he could break someone in two if he wished; she’d keep a close eye on that one. Being potentially hated was one thing, being potentially hated by someone like that was quite another.

Taking her eyes off the rest of the crowd again, she answered the smith’s inquiry. “Khinada has a knack for acquiring things, especially those of value. She is also quite the alchemist. Perhaps if she needs something repaired or replaced she can trade a potion or two for it. Khinada would eventually like to obtain another steel sword like the one she already has.” She turned her grinning, whiskered face fully toward him then, chuckling as she spoke. “When there must be a fight, it is better to strike with both hands, yes?”

[StormWolf]

"Ice Wolf. . . Many a year it has been since I was called by that." Starkad mused with a deep harrumph. The name was bestowed upon Starkad Long-Fang in the heart of the civil war, after his escape from Imperial custody. After that day, Starkad - along with his officers, like Lord Winterblade - noticed how he fought with a renewed savagery to the point of tackling Imperial Legates from their horses and tearing out their throats with whatever he could manage. Sometimes it would be knife, other times hands, some other times it was with his teeth.

Taking the contract and the quill from Allester, Starkad read over each word once more before signing his life away with the old runic scrawl of the Nords. Handing the parchment and pen back to the Lord-Captain, Starkad hooked his hand on the crook of his axe as it hung in a thick leather hoop at his waist. There was a tingling that spread across the Nord's pale and scarred skin that made his hackles rise. Following his perceived notion of the sensation's origin, he spied the one Khajiit on the ship, a female, looking at Starkad like she was weighing him. He was well aware he was more than intimidating to most folk, and to a young woman whose people are hardly allowed within the walls of Nord cities, he could understand her concern. Though misplaced, he knew her fear full well. Starkad simply nodded to the woman, a slight tilting of he head accompanied by the tinning of the chains tied into his braids. No harm would come to her from him so long as she did not initiate violence in his direction.

Stepping aboard the Storm Breaker, the large Nord descended below deck to the crew quarters. He had little he wished to place in the sea chest. His smallclothes and armor would be all he had any need to store so that his banded iron armor would not rust as quickly. His three sets of spare clothes would remain in his rucksack. Other than his necklace and amulet, Starkad wore no jewelry to speak of. He was a practical individual, even for a Nord. He did, however, remove the letter he had received from Zha'raji, open the thrice-folded parchment, and read over it once more.

Dearest Starkad,

I have longed for you in my absence. While the adventures I have had are great and more will follow, I oft and fondly think back to our rituals in the halls of Whiterun. I felt safe in those times, and it is that safety and security I miss most of all. The seas have a way of making a mess of the days, and I cannot fathom how long it has been. Too long, I imagine, for you. Always the one to never let anything go. Well, do not let go of me yet. You never know, the dark ocean may swallow me up. You know how much I hate dark waters. If you-

Starkad had been lost in his reading when he heard commotion on the deck above him - likely more crewmen coming down to sort their belongings. Narrowing his icy eyes, Starkad folded the letter back up and slipped it under his pillow before returning to the dock. The ship was too small for much thievery, and whether she was guilty or not, the Khajiit would receive the blame first. Regardless, the letter was what Starkad valued most out of his belongings. His ancestral armor was left back at his Clan's holdings, along with his inherited weapons. The weapons, armor, and shield all came from the dusty armory in Castle Asahiem. They were nothing special and in abundance all around Skyrim. Not even enchanted. The letter, though, was Starkad's key to finding Zha'raji, however minuscule a chance that may be, and it was the only sign that she still drew breath in the past five months. It was as if she would die if the letter were destroyed. Leaving it under his pillow was as sentimental as it was tactical. Few people would sully the bed of a man who could crush their larynx with a solid punch.

He had returned to the docks just in time to hear the Khajiit speak, and in turn picked up her name. The phrasing of her statement reminded Starkad of a Nord proverb so many Stormcloaks had been keen to parrot: The gods gave you two hands. Use them both for your weapon.

"You would find most Nords in agreement, Khinada." Starkad spoke in his usual deep tone as he walked passed the Khajiit towards the heart of Solitude to partake in Mid-Year the best way he knew how.

Mutton and mead.

[Raindrop]

Red hair played lightly with a faint wind gush that seemingly sneaked by them and Mirida stood up straight and proudly from the mast and started to walk around on the deck, back and forth with each step taken perfectly and her body language radiated respect and general toughness.
Looking as if she was ready to take on an army all by herself, her edged formed steel sword crafted in Whiteruns best forge, the skyforge flowed in a succession of playful moves, Mirida didn't even seem to be in need of focus to do this, infact it looked like she was quite the bit bored or thinking about something.

"Lars, get your ass on deck!" Mirida suddenly shouted, getting an "Aye aye" reply from beneath the deck as this Lars character moved as if he was one with the ship up onto deck standing before Mirida proudly.
"Go to the chef and make sure he has started on our meal and when you are done with that take the rest of your crew to thoroughly inspect the Storm Breaker so that she is in a perfect shape for tomorrows departure." Mirida demanded no hesitation no feelings into it and as usual Lars confirmed the orders by another "Aye Madam!", and as soon as he had politely turned around he dashed down below the deck moving fluidly across the ship.

That's the spirit I prefer seeing in people, their discipline pleases me. Mirida thought to herself smiling like a fox briefly before she continued walking as she did, still playing with her sword.
Mirida was indeed something out of the ordinary, so much power yet untamed and proud as a dragon.

[Rayne7]

Nodding to Winterblade, Graesin looked over at the woman who was staying aboard as well just as she stood, sword cutting through the air without her giving it so much as a thought. Seeing her give orders to a crew-mate and how he responded, it was obvious she enjoyed being in charge, and keeping a well-maintained discipline. In that he knew they would be similar; his own actions were nothing more than a means to a specific end, and as such was economical; he did what needed doing, no questions or complaints about it. All in all, he thought that she'd be someone worth some measure of respect.

"I'll keep watch in the Crow's Nest." Graesin told her, voice respectful and brooking no argument.

He climbed up into the nest and unslung his bow, resting against the mast with his bow in his hand, arrow knocked but not drawn. It was his personal belief that the people on watch should keep their weapons in their hands and ready for immediate use, always aware of what's going on. Always prepared. Too many times an attacking force had gotten the advantage of another because in the time it took for the defenders to draw their swords, arrows had already struck home. Far better to have weapons drawn and at the ready, shields on hand to raise to defend against an onslaught of arrows.

Looking down at the crew, he could see individuals mingling with others, already making an attempt at getting to know one another and make nice. Socializing wasn't something he was good at; oh, he could interact with others in maintaining a cover or working with a group, but he just wasn't one to talk about himself, not his experiences, thoughts, or anything else about himself for that matter. Of course, the life he led didn't give much room for socializing, and he wasn't interested anyways. Working with people didn't require knowing their pasts, and he wasn't willing to share his own.

So instead he settled back and kept watch, looking for anyone or anything that might require attention, holding his bow at the ready. Always prepared.

[TsukiHime]

Sovia still in the corner paying attention to everyone and it seems they mingle quite well butshe kinda have a feeling that they are also measuring each other power and abilities. Sovia rub her head with dumb face thinking whats the point of doing that kind of thing anyway..?? When there is a mountain there will always be a higher mountain.

She look at her staff and sighs, her family want her to study destruction spells and all she wants to do is studying the restoration spells. She kinda thinking why destroy when she can save people, she think its more useful than that. She put down her bag and take out the normal scroll of destruction to study more but she can never like this kind of spell. She try to do shaping something with frost spell and it shatters quickly.

She sighs again, she try to study hard though and she point her staff outside the ship so no one gets hurt as she mumble frost and the staff shines and let out a weak frost magic and she shoot it but she didnt know there is a bird nearby as the bird get frezee and fall to the water. She hurry look at it in horror and screams in panic "OH NO..!!! I KILLED A BIRD..!!!" she shout so loud without realizing her surrounding.

[Jacogos]

Knack for acquiring things, eh? Not doing the stereotype much justice, are ya? Daimus thought with an inside smirk. The Dunmer watched as the large Nord returned to the deck, vaguely remembering hearing the captain refer to him as the 'Ice Wolf'. Bloody Nords and their legacy names... He wondered only briefly if the man was even a match for an Ice Wolf; a second glance at him told him there was little doubt about that.

After the Khajiit mentioned wielding two weapons, the man threw in his own bit of commentary, likely referencing some old Nordic saying. He had heard quite a few dealing with the Skaal; whether the Nords admitted it or not, the two offshoots were a lot more similar than they realized.

"Yeah, I think I can manage that quite nicely... Though if you're offering potions, gettin' something that'll keep my mind clear while I'm workin' would be helpful," Daimus requested, a thoughtful look towards the Nord's back as he returned to Solitude.

"Forgive me, the name's Daimus Morvayn," the Dunmer introduced himself, offering a hand. "Best Smith in Raven Rock, or so I've been told."

[StormyNyte]

Khinada turned, blinking, as the large Nord who the captain referred to as Ice Wolf spoke up as he passed, heading back to the city's festivities. It was the first time she had been addressed by a Nord directly without the words being spiteful or a curse, it intrigued her. Perhaps the man would not be as bad to deal with as she feared he would be. Her ears perked forward as he strode back onto the dock, calling after him. "Then perhaps the Khajiit and the Nords are not so different after all, Ice Wolf."

Turning back to the Dunmer, she smiled, reaching out to take his offered hand. "Khinada is pleased to make your acquaintance, Daimus. Perhaps when she goes back into the city, she will try to locate the alchemy shop. Khinada always has need for new ingrediats, perhaps she will be able to create something to your liking." That said, she turned and made her way off the ship to return to the festivities herself.

[SikstaSlathalin]

"Be back by 12th bell(midnight) Starkad sleep will be needed for the morning." He shouted after the young Nord hearing Mirida barking out her usual orders and the stalwart Nord Lars hopping to it like a rabbit running from a fox. He and the rest of the crew were solid workers and came highly recommended by the Sailors' Guild here in Solitude. Three other Nords Lars Stoneback, Ana Chillwind, and Ortis the Misty-Eyed, two Redguards Pyke and Minerva, two Imperials Lucina and Viera Lex, an Argonian named Swims-Swifter, a Breton named "Jolly" Jakben Gaelin, and an Orc named Gat gro-Gluk. Most of the crew were in Solitude doing some last minute shopping and supply securing before he would release them to enjoy the festival with the mercs.

With the paperwork all done he tied them them securely together and went to place them in the enchanted safe in his room where every other important document would be kept throughout the voyage. As he boarded his ship he looked around at those left and how they interacted with each other. He sincerly hoped the tension would fade as the trip progressed, nothing made a journey more uncomfortable than a crew that hated each other. He had just watched Graesin scale the main mast like a squirrel when he heard a scream that made him practically rip his greatsword from it's sheathe on his back and rush to Sovia expecting her to have an arrow through her stomach. But as he approched his nerve relaxed and he slid Firestorm back across his back.
"It was an accident lassie, no need to scream like a Horker sat on you." He walked up behind the horrified girl patting her shoulder softly watching the frozen bird sink below the surface and get snatched up by a rather large shark.
"Death is part of life young one, you didn't mean for the bird to die. Have you chosen a bunk yet? Doing so might take your mind off it."

[TsukiHime]

Sovia look terrified and look at the person who pat her "no.. I havent sir.." but he says that death is a part of life..?? Even if its by mistakes..?? Silly and stupid mistake..??. Sovia nods and rather go inside to calm her self down, she needs it.

Sovia choose one of the bunk that most corner to rest, she really needs to think more before doing anything or morelike look if any other creature outside before she shoot something.

[Raindrop]

-:--:--:--:--:--:--:--:-Fefheir Fatalhar-:--:--:--:--:--:--:-
A heavy leather armored man moved around the streets of Solitude this mid year celebrations with cold eyes scanning his surroundings, masked by more leather he had no face to show the public.

Dire dagger sloth, her scent I swear she is here, not alone and dwelling in the dark, I come to wonder, how did she survive? Sinister memories lingered into this killer of men, women and children, a brother from the Dark Brotherhood. It brought a soothing smile upon his lips, when he will find her, he will finish what was ment to have died a long time ago.
Many are the nights he have been restless with the thought of her being alive, it almost made him belch in bad taste of such a dreadful failure.

Tonight, you shall die... Mirida. The man thought and walked on towards Solitude streets, May you suffer in this and may you die remembering that night.
An empty, cold and sinister laughter followed him out of the alley way.

[Imperial1917]

Isus moved along the cliff-wall road down towards the Solitude Docks. Even here, the crowd of Mid-Year revelers was dense. Still, it was no impediment for him as the people parted quickly as they saw him coming. In the distance he could see the foul forms of Stormcloak guards watching over the crowd, one hand on a sword hilt and the other shield-bearing hand with an ale in it. Their eyes seemed to be drawn to Isus like iron filings to a magnet, hatred in every one. They seemed to want nothing more than to draw their swords and challenge Isus for daring to openly wear the garb of the Empire in the lands of Ulfric. Yet they did not move from their posts. Even they knew the look of an Imperial Templar on the march and they knew better than to seek to interfere.

Isus' opinion on them was clearly less resolute than theirs on him. Raised in Ebonheart by Father Matanus of the Imperial Chapel there he had sworn himself to the service of the Divines. All of them. That included Talos, who the mer sought to steal from the races of men. Far as their reach had become, they could not sway the Argonians who had occupied Morrowind with fear to suppress worship of Talos. By the same token, he had also been raised in Ebonheart, last stronghold of the Empire in the East by Locus Parentis, at the time of the city garrison. He had taught Isus the glories of the Empire and showed him how so much of what he knew as of the Empire's past. The Stormcloaks' decision to break away from the Empire, cutting off both of the remaining provinces of the Empire from Cyrodiil. Overall, he held them in contempt.

Turning his mind from the matters, he thought about the summons he was answering. It had been very vague, to say the least. Whatever Ulfric was planning, it clearly was big. He took out the invitation that had been posted throughout the land and looked at it. There were questions, so many questions. Who was funding the expedition? What was its objective? Why did Ulfric support this? Most importantly for Isus' immediate purposes: How in the world does he expect his ship not to be sunk immediately on arriving at the Summerset Isles? Would they even get that far in the Dominion territory? Isus was a Templar, sworn to do his duty for the Divines and not at all very uncomfortable with the idea of death, but this was insanity. Well, this was Skyrim. He guessed he would have to ask.

Isus' path took him through the parting crowds at last to the docks. The crowds were thinner here, only dockworkers doing last-minute work before setting off for the nearest tavern to celebrate. The sound of Isus' steel spear haft striking the stone on the way to the wooden piers was suddenly audible above the lessening drone of voices. Wraithguard's dull gold shone slightly in the daylight. He suddenly became aware of the items of his supply sack, trapped between the inside of his armor and his body digging into his flesh. It was slightly uncomfortable, but wouldn't slow him down in combat. And he didn't have to worry about thieves.

Reaching the crest of the docks, he stood out over when the dirt-and-stone path connected with a scaffold of wooden stairs down to the pier. The icy spray of the sea kissed his face. It had been some time since he had been near such water. It brought back memories of Ebonheart and its prowess on the waves. That prowess had kept Ebonheart alive through many conflicts and allowed it to thrive as the Empire's grip on Morrowind was broken by the Argonians. A safe port in the storm. That is what mariners called Ebonheart these days. A place where honest merchants, both those who traded by land and by sea, could make an honest living. A fortress, its docks protected by both potent weaponry and magic as well as the city garrison, it was a place where men could find peace in Morrowind. In a way, its people thought themselves still part of the Empire. In another, they knew that it was perhaps the last remnant of the Empire's past glory. Some said that it had moved into an empire of its own right, commanding the seas. Certainly it had grown larger and attracted men who had been displaced by conflict. Its docks bustled with commerce and the fortress had a neat, orderly town growing beyond the walls. And new walls to protect that town.

Isus shook the thoughts from his mind. Pining for home wouldn't get him anywhere right now. He knew why he was here. It was because, love Ebonheart as he did, he could not stay there. If he did, the dreams - the nightmares - of his past would return to haunt him. Only when he dedicated himself to something else, something more and moved towards that goal did they lessen. It was the only cure he knew besides prayer. And he prayed a lot.

Scanning the docks, he looked for the ship that he sought. The loss of Imperial power in Skyrim had meant that the East Empire Company's influence was diminishing. Even now, looking over the docks Isus could see few of their ships where he knew that there once were many. The inner dock where they had once held a monopoly on storage now catered to less savory individuals. The moorings were filled with craft of all sizes, though all sea-worthy size. He wondered for a moment where the Storm Breaker was. He shook his head, figuring it was foolish to look blindly. He asked a dock worker and was directed to it.

It was a large vessel of a fine class. Isus wondered whether the Stormcloaks had built it or pilfered it when they seized Skyrim. He guessed it didn't matter. It was theirs now. He saw a motley band of individuals manning it. They included men, mer, and others. That was strange to him. Even in the days of the Empire the Nords usually stocked their ships with their own. Maybe their need for magical individuals and people of skill outweighed their desire to keep their crew one race or at least among men. Shaking his head, Isus walked towards the ship and stopped at the small desk there.

[SikstaSlathalin]

Lord Winterblade watched the young girl bustle off to the woman's quarters, worry sneaking into his heart for her. She was about the age of her eldest daughter Sonja, he would have to take this youngling under his wing a little bit so she'd survive the first bit of misfortune they come across. He was just glad Sonja chose to be a Bard instead of a warrior like her Fa, even with all he's faced he was sure he wouldn't be able to go on if any of his family were killed even his House Carls who were sworn to die for him. As the young Altmer disappeared belowdecks he went about helping the Sailors that were left in their final preparations for the voyage.

He was hanging from the upper rigging near the crow's next repairing some frayed ropes when he heard the heavy clank of armor on the docks below, his thoughts were confirmed when Swims-Swifter who was repairing ropes with him spoke in a quiet urgent tone his sharpened teeth showing in a slight snarl.
"My Lord, an Imperial in heavy armor is at your little table. Shall I rally the crew to defend the ship?" The male Argonian was usually very laid-back but he hated Imperials from back in his egg days when a troop of Soldiers trashed his village as they were marching back to Cyodiil. They were used to dealing with the Legion but this troop was known as the Rejects and the village soon learned why. They got drunk and after ravaging a few of the females they attempted to burn down the village, but they barely got their torches lit before a group of Shadowscales led by Swims father swooped down and massacred the troop leaving only one man alive to tell the story.

Knowing the Argonian's past Winterblade shook his head as he spun in the suspended chair to look the newcomer over.
"No if he meant us harm, he'd have a troop behind him and wouldn't have made it past the walls. I believe he wishes to join our group. Continue this I'll go welcome him aboard." The Argonian took one last soul-boring look at the man waiting below before giving a throaty growl and returning to fixing the ropes. Allester began lowering himself to the deck grabbing his greatsword that was leaning against the mast and strapped it on, once it was secure he began walking to the gangplank looking the young man over.
A Templar? Thought that order died out with the rise of the Vigil of Stendarr. Having a warrior priest along might not be a bad idea. He thought walking down the board connecting the ship to the docks.
"Greetings lad, I haven't seen a Templar since last I was stationed in Morrwind with the Legion. Have you come to join our voyage? If so you'll need to sign this contract." He handed a copy of the contract to the Imperial placing a quill and inkwell in front of him.

[Imperial1917]

Isus stood at the table studying the ship. It was a fine vessel. He couldn't place the class as well as he had thought at a distance, but it clearly drew from designs he knew well. One didn't live life as a son of Ebonheart without picking up at thing or two about the ships always coming and going from the harbor.

As he did this, he noticed a man, a Nord, and an Argonian repairing frayed ropes in the ship's upper rigging. Briefly, he wondered why they had left such things so late for a long-planned voyage. Such thoughts were washed away as the Argonian looked at him. Even from a distance, Isus could feel the hate coming off of the man-lizard. The gaze was as cold as the water in the wind coming down from the Sea of Ghosts. Isus was unfazed. He returned the gaze with a look of hate of his own.

Argonians. Isus was not fond of their scaly species. Like most non-men species, he had bad experiences with their kind. Before his life in Ebonheart, he remembered the cruelty of the Argonians. Their arrogance in bloody victory over the Dunmer filled him with bitterness. True, he did not suffer as much as the Dunmer who were frequently persecuted and killed, but the Argonians still treated him as second-class as a citizen of the Empire. As an Imperial. In his travels Isus had seen nothing to redeem their race in his eyes. Anywhere he went in their territory, he saw only malice against good, honest people. The minor exceptions such as Mak-Nee, one of the Argonians who had accompanied him to find the Lord's Mail, did not make up for the insults their kind had done him.

Looking at the ship's surface, he took in the motley band that was assembled there. Men, mer, and beast in their own measures. As he stood there studying them, old memories of past grievances with their various kind came up. Here, a Khajiit. He had once killed one for trying to slip a poisoned knife between the folds of his armor. And he had never forgotten the embarrassment caused by the one in the band searching for the Lord's Mail that got himself strung up for theft. In Ebonheart, of all places! There, a Bosmer. He had once known a Bosmer woman to try and swindle honest men of their money with cheap goods by charming them. And the Altmer... Isus was truly surprised to find one of the High Elves aboard this Stormcloak voyage. He would have expected them to be put in cages on display in the city more than walk about freely. Still, he was quite certain that this example's current calm display was just a prelude to an open demand that he be given command of the ship. Such was the classic arrogance of their kind. See there how the heathen had even seen fit to summon a familiar! Undoubtedly he was knowledgeable in even more perverted craft like summoning Daedra! If he did, Isus would be finely put not to cut him down on the spot for his blasphemy. He would have to watch that one closely.

There were, of course, men on the ship. Allowing mer and beastfolk or not, the voyage had obviously still attracted more men. They bustled about the ship, seeing for preparations for departure. Clearly they were the dedicated crew of the ship, not mere random strangers come to seek adventure.

He sensed again the eyes of the Argonian on him and returned the look. As he did so, he noticed that the Nord who was working with the creature had taken a greatsword and descended to the deck. He walked towards Isus over the gangplank with an air of confidence and the radiance of command. Clearly here was the captain of this expedition. He didn't seem it from his words.

Isus stiffened at the words of the Nord, his grip on the haft of his spear tightening. Lad? Legion? He wavered for a moment between answering the man with words and answering the man with his spear. This man dares to question Isus as a Templar?! The arrogance! He had best do better in the future to watch his tone. And he was a traitor to boot! A scalawag who turned his back on the Empire! While it was true that Isus was not as bound to the Empire as others in Ebonheart felt themselves to be, as a Templar and raised by two men of honor he had been taught to hold well to oaths.

Calming himself, Isus reflected that perhaps the man was not as his words seemed. Perhaps there was more to him. The Stormcloaks frequently claimed that it was the Empire's surrender of Talos that drove them to rebellion. As a man of faith, a defender of the Nine, Isus could understand that. If he was bold enough, he might even admit aloud that he probably would have chosen the same.

Now calmer, Isus took the proffered paper and began to study it. Father Matanus had been keen to teach him his letters and Isus could read well common script as well as runes necessary for studying magic. He was surprised that they were insisting on one in the first place. Isus knew that the Nords held men's words closer than pieces of paper, even during the days that the Empire held sway in Skyrim. In that way they were much like how Isus had been taught. Eyeing the Nord, he was quite certain that it was not the Rebellion that had taught him his letters. As he read down the paper though, it became a certainty to Isus.

Just as certain to him was that the man who wrote the contract was well learned. It was full of all the fine print and high rhetoric of the scribes of the Empire. And just as full of the wavy lines between the lines as well. In Isus' experience, such high-minded pieces were useful for merchant contracts, but this was a contract of honor. It would probably not hold if worse came to worse, especially when you take random personages aboard as your crew. Of course, Isus was a man of honor and his word, which was why he took such issue with the contract.

Isus knew where his loyalties lay. One could not truly be called a Templar and not. Ebonheart under family and friends, under the Seven Divines, under Akatosh, under Kynareth. Everything else goes under Ebonheart. Contract or no contract, priorities are priorities. Isus had no trouble with the thought of giving his life for an ideal, but he knew that there were orders to everything and this was the order that he had put himself to.

Finally looking to the Nord, he said, "Wherever the Faithful go, the Templar will live. Aye, as you say, I am here to join your voyage. I see merit in it. I will sign." Putting the paper on the desk, he leaned down, took the quill, dipped it carefully in the inkwell, tapping excess ink on the side of the inner rim as Father Matanus had taught him, and executed his signature on the contract.

Straightening he said, "If you have the time, I have some questions about this voyage of ours."

[Jacogos]

Watching as the Khajiit padded away quietly, Damius now turned his attention on a new face: an Imperial, to his surprise. What's a bloody coin-chaser doin' here in Skyrim still?

Listening to the man and the captain talk, Daimus got a vague feeling of mistrust in the man. Eyes narrowed, Daimus noted the man's body language at a few points in the conversation, not liking what he saw. Bastard's probably more racist than I am... Heh, he probably wouldn't admit it as soon, though. Turning his head away from the two, Daimus continued to look out over the docks and towards the great city of Solitude.

"The Templar are a dyin' breed, I've heard... Is there some new chapter in Cyrodil? Or are you the last of your kind, Imperial...?" Daimus spoke up, venom only barely audible in his tone. He wouldn't be outwardly provoking in front of the captain... Not much, in any case. Who knew how tender this man was? I might, if his body language speaks what his lips don't...

[Imperial1917]

Isus turned his head towards the speaker. A Dunmer. Isus had experience with Dunmer. Those that remained in Morrowind who had not been sullen and bitter at their loss of their ancestral lands had been broken husks waiting to die. They had, of course, hated the Argonians for their loss, cursed Red Mountain for the destruction it caused, and blamed the Imperials for not protecting them. A sullen, bitter race to be sure.

Not that they had been any better before that. They had played the slaving, arrogant lords of a disease-ridden spit of land before that. In that way, Isus supposed, they were little different from any other race of mer. They had little honor even then. Father Matanus had told him that it was well thought of, that tale of how the Dunmer came to be. Once a golden-skinned, fair race, they had wrought a terrible curse upon themselves in the vein of great treachery. Legend told that it was Azura, Daedra Goddess of Dawn and Dusk, Lady of Twilight, who had appeared before them and laid unto them the curse that had turned their eyes red and the skin black.

The example before him was a strange one. Judging by the roping of his muscles and stance, Isus took him for a smith. That was a curious choice of career for a Dunmer. Even in his travels around Morrowind Isus had seen few Dunmer smith, mostly leaving the craft to other, usually more burly, races such as the Orsimer. His hair was a dark red under the sunlight that shone down on the deck. That most Dunmer had simply dark hair made Isus wonder if the curse was turning their kind's hair red as their eyes and Isus was standing before an example of that. His armor was Chitin Light Armor, which was doubly curious. Isus had come from Morrowind where such armors were common, but they certainly were not common here in Skyrim. More interesting was that it was light armor. Most smiths in Isus' experience preferred to use heavy armor. A curious fellow indeed.

And rude, judging by his words. Trying to keep composed, knowing that he was probably in for a long expedition with this mer, Isus responded, "A true man of faith who surrounded by naught but foes of the gods does not quail. No, he rejoices. For in that place, he can strike in any direction and hit only adversaries."

[SikstaSlathalin]

The Lord Captain noticed the young man's body stiffen and his grip tighten on his spear as he called him a Templar. The impetuousness of youth tied with the arrogance of an Imperial Templar, this lad is gonna give me gray hairs I can feel it. He thought keeping an easy smile on his bearded face as the new recruit signed his name. The tension was about passed when Daimus opened his mouth and decided to poke the snake as it were, and Isus responded in kind this was the end of it in in the Captain's eyes. Stepping between them he held his hands up between them commanding silence with his presence.

"That's enough from the both of you, and there will be no striking unless you have the nerve to try and strike me Templar Makarus. Remember that well, and Quartermaster Morvayn where are the supply runners you sent out earlier? Might want to go find them and that's an order. " He told Daimus nodding back towards Solitude his tone left no room for argument from either side. "Now if you have questions Isus ask them but keep civil. Now come with me I'll show you the men's quarters where you will be staying." He began walking back up the gangplank knowing the Imperial will follow.

[Imperial1917]

Isus paused to glare at the Dumner before following the captain to the men's quarters. There would be a reckoning with that one, he knew, contract or no. From the captain's orders he interpreted the man as arrogant, lazy, and lax in his duty. It would seem that the Gods saw fit to put him here simply to torment Isus. Certainly it would seem that he was not placed here by the captain. If he was, Isus would think him to be more respectful in the presence of the officer.

He pushed the matter to the side of his mind. No sense of being concerned with it right now. It would be dealt with when the time came. Right now he had more pressing issues to contend with.

Clearing his throat, he said, "I see no point in feigning politeness as I know little more of you than that you are the leader of this expedition, so I will be blunt. Bearing in mind that you will be my commanding officer, I must inquire as to, with all due respect I emphasize, how you expect to sail uncontested through the waters of the Summerset Isles whist flying the colors of Ulfric Stormcloak. It is my understanding that there is... no lost love between Skyrim and the Altmeri Dominion."

[SikstaSlathalin]

Allester led Isus to the Mens' Quarters and pushed open the door motioning the young man in to select a bunk and sea chest. Choose your bunk and lock up what you wish in your sea chest, just be sure to keep the key on you because as the contract said you won't get another. And to answer your question, I don't expect to go through this voyage without problems, that's why most of the people you see aboard are mercs." "What I do expect is trouble every step of the way, they'll be hostile wildlife, angry natives, vicious storms, and I'm almost betting on Pirates both freelance and those that may be hired by enemies of Skyrim." "It's another reason why I only took on this expedition with the condition I could hire those of every race." "We'll need ambassadors and there's no better ambassador than a native of a Province we're visiting." "One can only hope they have the common sense to not attack a vessel not flying war colors and sparking off another war." He gave Isus the privacy to do what he wished to do just leaning against the threshold outside of the quarters.

He felt the slightest twinge of worry creep into his usually stoic mind, the Storm Breaker was filled with people who would sooner stab each other in the back than face down enemies besides one another. He's led squads both in the Legion and in the Stormcloaks that were like that, back then he could pound the living shite out of them until they started acting right. He couldn't do that here though, these were all free agents even with the contracts binding them to the voyage, he could only strike them as punishment for transgressions. He just hoped they'd learn to work together without snarling like dogs guarding their food bowls.

[Rayne7]

Graesin had watched the whole exchange between the Imperial with the Captain and Quartermaster with interest. It seemed the Imperial was part of a faction that was dying out but still known. Seeing the sparks fly between him and the Dunmer as well as the way he treated the others, he had an obvious dislike for elves, and it seemed a lack of respect for Lord Winterblade. All in all, he struck Grae as being arrogant and obnoxious. Shaking his head, he raised an eyebrow as the Captain stepped between the two who looked about to come to blows, forcing them to stand down and sending the Dunmer off on duties, making Graesin’s respect for the Captain raise a couple degrees. If the man was true to what he just saw, he would be a fair man.

Settling back, he still had arrow nocked on the bow and in his hands, ready for immediate use if necessary even as he observed their surroundings. Aside from the crowds, it was pretty well quiet and they had nothing to worry about thus far, aside from their own inside troubles. Thinking on it, he realized that nearly everyone had the same issue of distrust for the most part, even himself and the only way that would cease to be an issue would be proving trustworthiness over time.

The main ones Graesin would have a problem with were the mages. Having once been held prisoner by a mage, he would be careful around them. Many thought it was odd, especially when they discovered he used magic himself; though it was merely to amplify his abilities. Muffle to silence himself, calming magic to lower the probability of violence, or infuriating some to distract. All in all, his abilities weren’t nearly as destructive as others and could do little harm. As he thought about it though, he realized that the calming magic might come in handy with this crew.

Still, he didn’t like dealing with people and he’d prefer spending as much time in the crow’s nest as possible. And hope that he’d erased enough of his past that no one recognize him.

[StormyNyte]

As Khinada made her way back into the city, she became suddenly aware of four large Stormcloak city guards stomping toward her with hands on their sword hilts. They were too close for her to turn and run, so she tried to keep calm as they closed the distance and formed up in a circle around her. No doubt, someone had noticed something missing. It was times like this that she thanked the gods for the foresight to empty her satchle before coming back. The largest of the guards stepped forward and jerked the satchle from her shoulder, none to gently, and almost snarrled as he spoke. "Alight, milk-drinker, where is it?" The hate and distain in his voice was unmistakable as he opened the pack and upended it. When nothing fell out, he sneered and threw it on the ground, jabbing a thick finger at her. "We'll be keeping an eye on you, Khajiit, you're kind is nothing but trouble!"

That made Khinada bristle, but just when she started to do something the guard to her left slid his blade halfway clear of its shieth, daring her. She eyed them both with a deep frown, keeping her body very still. "Khinada has taken nothing, do you intend to strike down an innocent who is unarmed?" The guards all laughed at that, the one brandishing half his blade spitting at her as he slid the blade back home. "Your kind is never innocent, cat!" With that, they began to move off. The guard who spit at her shouldered her to the side as he passed, making sure to step on her empty pack as he did so.

With clentched fists, she glared at them as they moved off. Damn the Nords and their superiority complex! Stooping, she snatched up her satchle, brushed the dirt and mud off it as best she could, and shouldered it as she hurried away from that place. She was fuming about the encounter as she made her way through the crowded streets. There were likely only a handful of Khajiit in the city, even for the festivities, but if they were already eyeing her for what she was it would be unwise to try to make any further scores before the ship sailed. Until they were off, she had to be on her best behavior.

Finally simmering down, she began looking for the shield sign decorated with a mortar and pestle that would mark the city's alchemy shop. Once she spotted it, she ducked inside. Her eyes adjusted to the dimmer surroundings as the door swung shut behind her. The older woman behind the counter straightened and called out to her. "Hello, welcome to Angeline's Aromatics, we're fully stocked with just about anything you'd need. Just take a look around." Khinada thanked her and began to browse the shelves. She set to collecting small empty bottles and various ingredients she would need to mix healing potions, poisons, cures for disease, and a few things necessary for a couple invisibility potions. After all, invisibility was one of her most favorite potions to make. She also picked up the basic alchemy tools she would need to allow her to create potions durring the journy.

Once she had the ingredients she was running low on, she brought them to the counter and smiled, remembering her offer to the Dunmer back at the ship. "Khinada is wondering, is there by chance some way to learn the needed ingredients for a blacksmith's draught?" Angeline simply chuckled. "If I gave all my secrets away, I'd be out of business. Just happens though that I've still got two in stock, that is... if you've got the coin." Khinada's ears almost folded back in displeasure at that, she hated buying potions outright. It was so much cheaper when you knew the ingredients yourself.

Reluctantly agreeing, she counted out the needed coin. It was more than she had hoped to spend, but she was able to cover the cost with enough left for a drink or two and one last hot meal on the main land. Once everything was bought and paid for, she packed it away and made her way to the alchemy lab table. Withdrawing the needed ingredients for her invisibility potions, she quickly set about mixing them then and there. She wasn't about the pass up a chance to make a decent batch of invisibility potions when she knew the quality would suffer once on board the ship. She also went ahead and mixed a couple of good quality healing potions and poisons.

Finishing up, she took out one of the smithing draughts and unstoppered it. Lifting it to her nose, she took a long sniff in hopes of recognizing what the mix was made of. She could discern the musky scent of blisterwort, but the other ingredient's scent was too muddled to recognize. With a sigh, she restoppered the vial and returned it. With any luck, she'd have it figured before their trip was through.

With that done, she cleaned up her mess, thanked the shopkeep, and made her way back into the street. Once out, she headed back toward the main gates of Solitude, keeping an eye out for the sign that marked The Winking Skeever tavern and inn. She wanted to have a flagon of mead or two with her meal. After all, if there was one thing in Skyrim that she could commend the Nords for, it would be their sweet honey mead. The very thought made her mouth water and set her steps to quicken as she manuvered through the throng.

[Lord Tully]

Shava looked at the wolf creature curiously, whatever it was it was clearly quite tamed, when it began sniffing at her she tensed up in case it decided she smelled tasty but did not move to stop it. When it's owner, and Altmer who had also joined the crew came to reclaim his pet Shava shook her head, "I've met far too many wolves wishing to eat me to be annoyed by this." she said shortly before she moved to walk past the elf and his wolf, when the wolf jumped up onto her and began to lick her face.

Resisting the urge to simply snap the creature's neck, Shava figured pissing off a crewmate right at the start was a bad idea, she settled for pushing it down as firmly as she could without hurting it. "Don't do that again." She said to the wolf, before turning to its owner, "Please exert better control over your beast in the future. I won't hold this against you, but out at sea it is harder to keep balance, I don't think anyone wants him knocking someone overboard by accident because he's too affectionate." Shava said in a flat constructive tone. This day did not begin as well as she had hoped and she knew she might snap at the man needlessly if she were not careful, "Now if you'll excuse me."

With that Shava made her way onto the ship and while on the way to the crew quarters passed by the captain and when she saw the scar free side of his face something clicked inside her mind. She had a feeling about him since she saw the notice and it was now confirmed, Shava approached the large Nord with a smile on her face, "I thought I recognized your name, you're the same Lord Winterblade from Bruma. Your daughter Sonja used to follow me about because my family were the only Argonians in town." She said hoping to jog some part of his memory, "How is Sonja?"

[Imperial1917]

Isus watched the captain go, then turned his attention to the sea chest he was assigned. He knelt before it, resting his spear along the floor between him and it as he did. He had chosen a bunk that was at the fore of the cabin. It placed him right next to the door and his back to a wall if he slept inward facing the rest of the cabin. Which, of course, he fully intended to do. On a ship full of strangers, human or no, he knew that there would be no real trust earned until blood was let. If it was the Nordic way, it was probably going to be done in a few fistfights on the deck. If it was done the Templar way, it would be out on the battlefield.

The sea chest was made of sturdy oak, though faded. That was good. At least they didn't cheap out there. A good lock on a rotten-wood chest was as useless as a stone door in a cloth frame. Of course, that meant a trade-off, especially since the voyage was for free. Ebonheart had been a fortress with a town meant to weather storms, sieges, and swindlers in equal measure. Well, not equal measure, but nearly every door could be locked and frequently was. The Locksmiths Guild was quite popular over there. That being said, Isus had seen a lot of locks in his time and this one did not impress. Even by the standards of Morrowind, it would have been called old. Old and in need of replacement, not repair. Looking at the key the captain had given him, Isus tried it in the lock. It make a soft click as it locked, but did little to reassure Isus.

Unlocking the chest, he opened it with his hands resting on the undone lid and looked inside. They had at least made the effort of cleaning the thing. The inner parts to the chest were spotless and clean. Tapping his fingers rhythmically on the lid, he thought about what he wanted to do. It wasn't that he had much to put in. Some dried meats and other food supplies, healing salves that he honestly probably didn't need being a healer himself, his portable equipment repair kit, some spare clothes, and his gold. He wouldn't part with his sword and probably not his spear either, if he could help it. He certainly wouldn't be putting any of his armor in here, assuming that it would fit. No, that wasn't the problem.

The problem was, once again, a matter of trust. Placing the items in here, he couldn't ensure that they were not tampered with if they were not on his person at all times. The food could be poisoned, the repair equipment damaged, his clothes shredded, and his gold stolen. He could ill afford to lose any of them if one or more of the crew of mercs bunked in this cabin proved untrustworthy. He had, after all, only brought from Ebonheart what he thought was necessary at the time. There was practically no weight to spare. And he didn't put it past any of the others, who he didn't know whatsoever, to tamper with his few possessions.

Finally, realizing that he was brooding too much, Isus made a decision. Carefully removing them from his person and placing them in neat order so they would not move about while at sea, Isus began putting in what he dared to keep in the chest. First the food supplies. Then the spare clothing followed by the healing salves. After some thought, he added the repair kit as well. No sense in carrying that extra weight.

Satisfied, Isus closed the lid to the chest. He then used the key to lock it, then stowed away the key in the one place he could think of: in the glove compartment of Wraithguard that pressed tightly against his skin. It shouldn't fall out that way and people couldn't steal it. Looking at the chest, Isus still felt dissatisfied, but unsure what to do next. Then a thought struck him. Placing both hands on the chest's closed lid, Isus intoned an incantation of locking. It was of the school of Alteration and Father Matanus had been most insistent that he learn it. Isus could still hear him now, "In the profession you are in, you protect as much as destroy. This spell will be invaluable when you want to keep something safe." Well, the man had been right, as he so often was. The spell placed on the chest, Isus turned his mind to other matters. Specifically what the captain had told him.

He hadn't said much anything. Everything he said, Isus could have guessed. Yes, you would fight creatures on voyages. Any half-brained resident of Skyrim could figure that out. Yes, you would fight storms. That was part of being on a ship at sea. Yes, you would fight pirates. That too was part of being on a ship with possibly valuable cargo. What bothered Isus was that the man didn't directly actually answer his question. The problem that faced them was not just the animals or the storms or the pirates. It was the Aldmeri Dominion. He had mentioned 'angry natives' and 'enemies of Skyrim', but that was hardly satisfactory for the situation. Fighting some disgruntled Orcs whose Hold you encroach on or some troll whose nest you find was one thing. Fighting an organized empire of mer was another matter entirely and not one to be taken lightly. He had all but avoided answering Isus' question, come to think of it. And as for 'not flying colors of war', ha! Like the mer would care to tell the difference. Maybe they would note it down in their log after warming themselves to the burning wreak of the Storm Breaker. Either the man wasn't really sure what he was doing or else just plain stupid. Or maybe he was one of the captains who thought it a good idea to keep up morale by misleading or not informing the crew of the dangers they faced. None of the prospects were enticing to Isus.

Having finished his business in the crew quarters, Isus stood, taking his spear with him. The removal of the items had lightened his load somewhat, but most of it had been his armor to begin with anyways. He still had his gold, the contract, the advertisement poster, his weapons, and his armor. He probably wouldn't need much else for the time being. Taking one glance around the crew quarters, he noted that one of the bedding's pillows had been disturbed. Then he went back up to the deck to find the captain and get orders.

[Jacogos]

Daimus nearly cowed under the man's gaze, a heavy, knowing gaze. Stubborn pride was all that kept him matching it. Once the captain intervened, Daimus knew that the man would back down. It was all the blacksmith could do to not let out a sigh of relief. That man would end him quicker than that Nord would've, no doubt. Well. Maybe a little doubt there. That's a fight I'd pay to see... Daimus thought grimly.

"Right, Cap'n, no doubt they're loungin' away in the Skeever or some such alibi," he had said, the dark elf now walking through the streets of Solitude with a discerning eye out for the crew. Gat, Jolly, Lucina, and Viera. An odd group, to be sure, but at least they rounded out the races nicely.

The Orc he found, as he said, at the Skeever. Daimus gave him a short warning look that made the Orc smile nervously. Downing the rest of his mead, the man was quickly on his feet and gathering the supplies he had already gotten. At least he had done that.

The two Imperials were buying goods from Bits and Pieces. Smart girls, travelling together. In the heart of Stormcloak power, there was little doubt what a couple of blue-wearing guards would do to a lone Imperial woman wandering the city. Daimus shook his head at the thought. You'd think their precious king would keep a tighter grip on his men... This is why he enjoyed Solstheim's government. Much less convoluted than this royalty business.

"Oy, Jolly," Daimus said as he caught sight of the Breton. "Not slacking off, are ya?" The Breton turned quickly and shook his head, a dejected look on his face that Daimus had come to know was commonplace.

"No, sir... Just rather disappointed in myself... I can't seem to get a good price on those items you wanted... I don't have enough..." he said, his world-weariness nearly contagious. Daimus sighed a little and almost smiled. Whatever he disliked about them, the Nords' knack for nicknames was continually funny to him.

"Bullshit, the captain gave you plenty to haggle with," the Dunmer said after composing himself. He was about to continue when the problem hit him like a hammer. "Er... you know what, why don't you let me do the talking...?" he said, holding out his hand for the gold.



Moments later, Jolly was carrying the supplies in a large bag and Daimus was playing with a gold coin.

"You know, if you hadn't burnt the rest, I think we might've had extra, Jolly," Daimus said, handing the doubloon over to the Breton. Jolly shrugged and began to make his way towards the ship. The Dunmer almost followed him when he noticed a group of Stormcloaks marching his way with a purpose. Their eyes weren't on him, he realized after a moment. Following their gaze, he caught sight of a familiar Khajiit.

... Oh balls, he thought with a frown.

[StormyNyte]

Khinada was minding her own business and keeping her hands firmly to herself for once as she strode down the street. She had no idea of the shit-storm brewing behind her. As she scanned the crowd, her eyes caught sight of a familiar Dunmer face. With a smile, she threw her hand up in greeting and started his way in hopes of perhaps persuading him to share a drink in order to further break the ice and to offer him the draughts she purchased. As she altered her course, however, her gold-ringed ears swiveled backward catching the all too familiar sound of heavy boots against the cobblestone street. Turning slowly, with a feeling of dread, she spotted the approaching Stormcloaks. All at once, her ears flattened, eyes widened, and tail tucked firmly against her rump. Holy shit on a sweet roll, not this again! They were still a ways off, but closing fast. She stumbled slightly, but kept herself upright as she quickened her pace. Wide-eyed, she met the Dunmer's gaze and gave him an almost pleading look. Why, oh, why did she leave her daggers on the damn ship?

[SikstaSlathalin]

Lord Allester had been watching the shore waiting for the newest recruit to finish putting his gear away when Shava's voice caught his attention speaking of how she knew his daughter. At first he was lost in her words but focusing on her features and kicking his ageing brain into gear he laughed lightly at his foolishness of not recognizing the woman at the start. She baby-sitted his daughters a few times when he was on the road and their mother was ill.
"Oh Divines bless me, my mind is slipping. Ay, I am that same Lord Winterblade, she is doing good studying in the Bard's Collage as we speak. She's just worried her poor old Fa will get himself killed by hunting the Thalmor. But I told her I have no plans to go looking for the Thalmor but if they come and we can't reason with them or flee from them we will fight them. I'm no fool or newblood when it comes to war, I don't wish to throw anyone against an impossible foe. Now go enjoy the festivities while you still can it'll be many days before we're scheduled to make landfall in the High Rock city of Farrun."

He nodded to the woman looking over his shoulder as Isus came back on deck still as armed and wound up as ever.
"Well if the belongings you wish to secure are secure, you are free to head up to Solitude and enjoy the festivities or stay aboard and rest. It's up to you all I ask is you be civil even in the face of a Stormcloak giving you trouble, we don't need anyone spending the night in the city dungeons."

[Imperial1917]

Keeping his face serene, Isus turned to the Lord-Captain and said, "I was born civil, sir. It is the world that is savage. But fear not, Captain, for it is the gods that guide my hand." With that he walked off the ship, lifting his spear so that it's haft didn't strike the boarding plank. Far above him, the sounds of merriment made their way down from the city.

The path was much less crowded than it had been when he made his way down to the docks. Almost anyone who had business left or had arrived later were already there. The only ones who remained on the path were drunken sailors and equally drunken dockworkers. In spite of many of them being Nords, all of them seemed to have reached too deeply into their many bottles to bother giving him much trouble, though Isus did not doubt that earlier their addled senses might have driven them to cause him trouble.

Climbing the steps, he noted a somewhat more attentive and sober band of sailors heading down to the docks, leaden with packages and other items. Crewmen of the Storm Breaker, he figured. No other ship seemed to be preparing to do anything. Shaking his head of the thought, he continued his climb towards the bright lights, already thinking on what provisions he might have to buy incase the Captain forgot them.

[Lord Tully]

Shava remained smiling as Allester remembered her, "I have changed much since I watched your girls my Lord." She said simply, it honestly made her happy to know that the curious little Nord girl that always found an excuse to talk to her was doing well, "It is good to know she is happy, if we have time perhaps I will see if she remembers her old baby-sitter all in armor." she suggested almost forgetting the seriousness of her proposed mission, "It is also good to see that age has not dulled your mind, from what my parents have said only a complete fool would actively hunt a nightmare like the Thalmor. Really hope we can reason with them if we see them." Shava said looking a touch nervous on the subject.

Shava had never directly encountered any Thalmor, but from the stories her father, and survivors of such encounters told her were more then enough to make her hope that she never had to. Trying to change the subject, Shava looked up at the city, "I think I'll take that offer, I've never been to the Mid-Year festival here before. Do not worry Sir, I've seen the dungeons in Castle Dour, I have no intention of ever becoming a guest." She said turning around to leave the boat again, instead of going up to the main gate, Shava used the smaller side entrance nearer to the docks.

As she reentered Solitude, Shava once again relaxed as the sights and smells of a festival washed over her. Shava fully intended to take a trip to the Bard's Collage to see Sonja and as a bonus see what they had prepared for the celebration, but she instead saw something a bit more dire that needed her attention. A group of Stormcloak guards were making their way across the square directly towards the Khajiit and Smith from the ship, "You've got to be kidding me." she muttered angrily, but she didn't act immediately.
She wasn't part of it, Shava could walk away and no part of this would come to her, but if she tried to help she might seed a bit of trust with those two and on a three year voyage trust was as vital as water. Cursing herself silently, Shava nearly ran towards the Khajiit and smith. She didn't know the exact reason the Stormcloaks seemed interested in the two, so didn't quite do anything or get their attention, but if they caused the two trouble she'd have to try and help.

[Zenteer]

Arorn sincerely apologized to her repeatedly while removing Dagger off of her. “Please exert better control over your beast in the future. I won't hold this against you, but out at sea it is harder to keep balance, I don't think anyone wants him knocking someone overboard by accident because he's too affectionate." The Argonian said in a neutral tone, with a hint of annoyance and anger.

As she walked away, Arorrn glared at Dagger. “Good job, first day and you already pissed someone off. Listen to me more, don’t just go blundering off doing whatever you want.”

Dagger panted happily and leaped on Arorn’s face giving him a good lick also. “Not now Dagger, get off!” Arorn gently pushed him down.

Dagger’s ears fell flat to his head as he was being lectured. “Listen, you’re a good familiar, but try not to get anybody killed… Come on mate, let’s find ourselves a room.” Together, the duo strode onto the deck of the gently rocking ship and proceeded to the lower decks to claim a bunk. Arorn picked out a random bunk near the center, not really caring at all about the location. One bed was basically the same as the other. Arorn tossed his jewelry and valuables into the chest, which was a fair amount. Arorn had made his life as a merchant/entertainer and that had accumulated him quite a bit of wealth. That, and assassinating Thalmors and looting their corpses. Arorn laid upon his bunk and stared at the wooden ceiling for a bit. Dagger roamed around the bottom deck, sniffing at beds.

“You know what Dagger, what the hell, let’s go out to Solitude and get ourselves a treat, eh? It’s our final day on land, let’s make the most of it.” Dagger panted happily at that and quickly followed him out. Eventually the duo came toward the front gates of Solitude. “Alright Dagger, try not to piss anyone off. Pissing people off is a no-no, very bad, stay close to-hey! What are you doing, come back here! Where do you think you’re going!”Dagger quickly made his way through the crowd, leaving Arorn to maneuver through the crowd by himself.

[StormWolf]

Starkad had been able to have a moment of relative silence and peace sitting outside the Skeever, short-lived as it was. He was able to enjoy a few mugs of mead and a plate mutton with no molestation. People were too busy or drunk to recognize his face. The music had been pleasant and the barmaids were dressed to impress, showing generous cleavage and flashing pearly smiles in their Mid-Year dresses. Starkad had been starting work on his second plate of mutton when the Khajiit on his crew came into view, appearing a little flustered. Starkad made sure to keep an eye on her. A crowd full of drunk and cantankerous Kinsmen of Starkad's was not the safest place for an outlander, especially one of the beastfolk.

Snapping the bone of a mutton leg and slurping the marrow, the Ice Wolf scanned the tavern again with all of his senses. There was a subtle change in temperature as the doors opened. Starkad could feel tension in the air, thick enough to cleave with his axe. The heavy clomping of Stormcloak boots reached Starakd's ears. He had a feeling he knew what was going to happen before it transpired, and he hated himself for being right. Khinada was quickly flanked by Stormcloak soldiers. Whether the Khajiit was guilty of something or not, she should not be treated any worse than a Nord. She eats, bleeds, and shivers in the cold with the rest of them.

Rising from his table, Starkad planted his hand on the head of his axe, where it hung at his hip. Why Starkad was leaping up to save this woman, he had no idea. What mattered was that he was when no one else would dare. Using his long legs, Starkad crossed the crowded tavern floor, shoving his way roughly through the throngs of patrons. He needed to get to Khiinada before the Stormcloaks did, but the margin would be far too narrow. Looking off to the side, Starkad could see the Argonian from the Storm Breaker approaching as well. Nodding to her, then craned his head to the rear flank of the Stormcloaks. These men were not thinking logically, and they would be easy to outsmart.

Placing himself beside Khinada, Starkad placed a firm hand around her bicep, wrapping around the entirety of her arm. "Easy," said Starkad, voice hard enough to mark steel. Placing himself between Khinada and the guard, Starkad twisted his axe in its belt loop, making the haft sway slightly. It was a signal to the Khajiit to take his weapon. Whether she got it or not, Starkad had no control over. The Stormcloak soldiers were upon them now. Starkad took a deep breath, thick mist wafting from his nostrils.

"Stand aside, citizen." said the Stormcloak standing at the front of their formation. Starkad did not move a single fiber.

"Stand aside! The Khajiit is under arrest." said the Stormcloak again.

"What are her crimes?" said Starkad, his face as hard as an anvil.

"Theft and espionage. Her kind are not to be trusted." Starkad felt his blood begin to burn, his skin heating and the veins rising against the ridges of his physique. Crossing his thick arms across his chest, Starkad glared into the slits in the Stormcloak's helmet,

"She is with me. She has stolen nothing. Because some of her kind may steal, does not mean she does. I do not see us running about in bear skins and blue face paint atop mountains, so unless you have proof, leave her be."

"You would defy the laws of Ulfric Stormcloak? You call yourself a Son of Skyrim?" Another of the Stormcloak guards shouted out, shaking a fist. Starkad's eyes narrowed into a penetrating glare, his mouth twisting in a snarl,

"More than any of you could ever dream, little man." Starkad's voice was venomous and it came across almost as a growl. That was it for the talking, it seemed. The Stormcloak guards would not have their authority challenged, even by one of their own. By the time the leading Stormcloak had his hand at his sword hilt, Starkag had gripped him by the wrist. The man would feel pain shoot up his arm as the small bones in his hands and wrist began to fissure,

"You are a worm, groveling in the blood-soaked mud left by men ten times your greater." Starkad growled and wrenched his hand, shattering the Stormcloak's hand and wrist, bringing the man to his knees, "You would take the freedom so many died for and oppress others... You sicken me, you sniveling quim!" Starkad gripped the man by the throat next, keeping his comrades at bay with the promise of a shattered larynx.

"Unhand him, you scum!" the other Stormcloak cried out, Starkad shot his baleful glare at the others,

"I am Starkad Long-Fang, the Ice Wolf, you miserable pleb! Talos should spit upon you when you go to Sovengard, and be thankful I am granting you a chance to change your ways before sending you there!" Unhanding the shattered limb of the Stormcloak ringleader, Starkad lifted the man from the ground by the throat, dangling him at eye level. "Take your pathetic vendettas and misplaced superiority and cast it into the sea, or I'll throw you all in myself. If one person, Nord or otherwise, is harmed beyond the reach of the law when I return, I will hunt you, find you, and kill you..." With that Starkad smashed his head into the guard he was holding, turning the Stormcloak limp as a boned fish before throwing him to the ground.

"Begone, unless you wish for a bout..." the Ice Wolf was snarling, speaking as regluarly as any man angered, unperturbed by the bleeding gash on his brow from when he head-butted the Stormcloak.

[Raindrop]

Mirida watched men come and go onboard the Storm Breaker, somehow she did have the urge to go into the town and keep an eye on her, well, Lord Captain Allesters crew. Mirida had promised to guard the ship, but figuring she had a bit of time left before her duty would be scheduled.

Mirida was not a person to celebrate but the uneasy nature of the crew it was more or less promised to cause trouble in Solitude. Wandering towards the Skeever as the rest of them where heading she took little weary in her surroundings, for all she could see whenever she was alone was fragments from another time, since long past to her, but the pain yet lingered as if it was yesterday that she lost all she knew and replaced it with the person she was today. A shell long left empty surfaced as she moved on her way, just realizing she was already on the streets of Solitude, the memories which haunted her placed itself in second place as she gained focus upon hearing a commotion further up on the street, guards where gathering and moving in a single purposed direction.

Growing curious as why there not just one but two squads of guards where moving towards the same direction as to reinforce or perhaps even preparing for crowd control. Moving along the guards direction and picking up phase she gained in on one of them, "Hey!" Mirida shouted to one of the guards, "What is going on?" She asked out loud, gaining the guards attention whom looked at her, then forward and then back at her, "Appearantly some giant Nord and a Khajit has gone wild and we have been ordered to take them down if we must.", Mirida felt as if this could very well have something to do with her own crew. "Is that so? This sounds complicated but I might know them and have them step down, as long as you promise me that you will let me barter for whatever wrong they have done in coin or service." Mirida asked the guard, whom looked at her, "If you make them step down I will do what I can." he replied as they were closing in.


About the moment they entered the Lord Winterblades old friend and their new Khajit friend were surrounded by crowd and guardsmen of Stormcloak. Furious at the sight of it, their actions whatever they were reflected upon Ulfric Stormcloak, but worse of all, upon Lord Winterblade. Mirida would not stand with the sight of it and first in before the guards she pushed away people in the way walking face front with the amazingly large Nord, "Starkad you big oaf, I believe I didn't get a chance to introduce myself, but I am Lord Winterblades First Mate and you are under MY command!" Her own gaze could burn down most soldiers confidence and determination, "So stand down Starkad, the same goes for you Khajit whos name I have yet to learn and I will not hear a single more word about it whatever is going on here!." Mirida was shouted as if she was a man, incredibly dominant and strict as if she was made out of stalhrim. "Stormcloak guards, I believe that I will be able to adjust proper punishment upon these member of Lord Winterblades crew, who is on a mission by Ulfric Stormcloak himself, now take this bag of gold as a proof of my good will and a token of the inconvenience this might have caused." Mirida claimed whilst picking out her letter of recommendation which also held Ulfrics own sigil on it. "I believe there is no doubt anymore yes? Now scatter and let me handle these two idiots by myself."

Mirida got back her letter, the stormcloaks were silent and in agreement, "Yes, why of course Mirida Ishart, but I advice you keeping an closer eye on those foolish crewmen of yours." the injured stormcloak guard said whom besides from being cocky almost seemed to be in the threshold of tears, they seemed like tears of fear, no doubt was he scared shitless by the man. "Why yes of course soldier, but may I advice you to pick your battles wisely and in the future not step into them blindly." Mirida said with a slick smile upon her face as she turned around to face the two troublemakers, "Now you two got a bit to explain and may I inform you that for starters you two can spend the rest of the night under deck of the Storm Breaker when we get back." Mirida said trying to push them with her stare to walk back towards the harbor.

[StormyNyte]

Khinada was just about to break and run when a strong hand encircled her bicep, causing her to jump and try to wrench away immediately. When a familiar voice spoke to calm her, she turned to find that it was the Nord known as Ice Wolf who held a vice-like grip on her arm. For a fleeting moment, she feared he intended to hand her over himself but there was a strange air of protection in his actions. She was soon shocked to find that that was exactly the case. It was much too late to try to slip away now, the guards had already closed on them. When the guard spoke her accusation, she hissed. "Khinada has taken nothing! Everything she has is bought and paid for, all she wanted was a good meal and a bottle of mead!"

Of course, there wasn't much she could do for her situation. She had seen him adjust his ax, but did not deem to take it. She had never wielded an ax before and even if she had, she felt that arming herself now would do nothing but worsen the situation. When the giant Nord made a distinction between her and those of her kind that stole, she couldn't help feeling slightly ashamed, even if she hadn't done anything to merit this latest attention. When he actually grabbed the guard by the wrist and shattered it, her breath caught. She was certain that blood would be spilled now.

Before anything more could happen, though, she heard the stern voice of the ship's first mate. Well, this is just getting better and better... As the guards backed off, Khinada turned her attention to the woman that called herself Mirida who had finished speaking to the guards and was now addressing them directly. Bristling at the thought of being scolded like a child and sent back to the ship, she balked. "But Khinada has done nothing wrong! The guards have shadowed her from the time she stepped back into the city, Starkad only meant to help Khinada."

[Imperial1917]

Isus' journey to the main part of Solitude took much more time than expected. The crowds thickened much faster than he thought they would. Not that even the drunkest Nord blocked his path, but their reaction time to parting around the Templar was very much slowed by their consumption of mead. That, combined with the slope of the path and Isus heavy armor made progress slow. He even spotted one of the expedition's members, a female Nord in leather armor, pass by him, skirting through the crowds ahead. Having departed somewhat earlier than her, he found himself squashing inner embarrassment.

Upon reaching the city proper, he was greeted by the cold gazes of the Stormcloak guards stationed there. They, like their brethren he had seen on the way to the docks earlier, were also indulging in food and drink. Luckily they also figured that it was better not to contest the presence of an Imperial Templar. That, or they figured that with a massive crowd of drunken Nords a single sober Templar was the least of their potential worries. They let him by without comment.

Looking about the city, Isus took in the sights. He remembered, distantly, coming here once. Or maybe it was just his imagination working with the books he had studied under Father Matanus. Either way, it was a sight to behold. The strong walls were not so easily judged Nord and the city's buildings were not entirely Imperial. Here was what was once the seat of true Imperial power in Skyrim. Shops and houses lined the walls, both of brick and of wood. Ahead of Isus, he could see the form of what was obviously a massive tavern. People crowded about its base, mugs that the establishment would probably never see again clutched in their fists. Isus was too far away from the sign outside of it to read its name.

There was an assortment of things he could do here, he knew. There was food and drink aplenty to go around. People would be willing now to partake in various games or less savory activities. Still, none of that interested Isus at the moment. He was more interested in preparing for the coming voyage. At dawn, he would have matters to deal with that held much longer term consequences in store than a single night of revelry could contend with. Pressing through the crowd, he looked for the first thing that he thought might be of use: a blacksmith.

As he did so, two things happened.
First, now trapped in the press of the crowd, he felt the probing scraping of nails against his armor. This was not surprising. While it was dangerous to try and steal from drunken Nords (or even sober ones, come to that), there were inevitably pickpockets in festivals such as these. Isus knew that in many cities guards didn't even bother trying to handle such things as they caused more trouble than it was worth unless somebody of note was stolen from. Luckily for Isus, he kept his valuables under his armor. To get to them, one would have to somehow get his armor off, which was impossible unless he permitted it. Knowing that the guards would be none too disposed to help an Imperial, he simply lashed out, backhanding the source of the hand. Under the constant drone of voices and noises in the festival, the impact of armored hand on flesh and following squeal were barely audible, but immensely satisfying. Isus would probably never know who had been bold enough to try and steal from a Templar, but they had surely found out why Templars were known for being fierce guardians.

The second matter was of more long-term interest. As he made his way up to past the Skeever, as he learned the tavern's name to be, Isus noted the presence of several of his fellow crew of the Storm Breaker. At least, he assumed they were. A hulking Nord with his arm around a scared-looking Khajiit was being lead out of the city by the female Nord he had seen pass him earlier. The Khajiit was saying something and though Isus couldn't hear her, he could tell that she was stammering excuses for something. As they passed, it soon became clear what. A small crowd of Stormcloaks stood watching them nearer the tavern. One was on the ground, clutching a hand, face nearly in tears. It wasn't hard to deduce that the large Nord probably had something to do with that. Isus nodded to the female Nord respectfully as he passed. She was probably going to be taking them to the brig for punishment. Assuming the Storm Breaker had a brig. Assuming that the massive Nord would take being punished. The whole matter didn't surprise Isus. Misbehaving sailors were a large part of Ebonheart's brig residents at almost any point in time. Nor did Isus interfere. He suspected that the female, clearly some person of officer status on the ship, would not appreciate it. Doing so would undermine her authority, making it seem as if she had brought the Templar to back her up. He would get involved if the Stormcloaks tried to arrest them, but for the moment it seemed that they were content to leave things be.

Pressing through the increasingly drunk crowd, Isus arrived finally at the Solitude Blacksmith. He was pleased to see that it was still in operation, even though the owner was clearly a Nord and it was Mid-Year Festival. Of course, not everything was as usual business. The forge outside was cold, the tools removed along with anything under forging. Clearly the man was taking no chances that a foolish Nord would pick up the weapons and drunkenly start fighting or else poke out their own eye. He was a well-built man, his arms ropes of muscle and strong bones that bespoke a well-done trade. Which Isus figured he would, if he was here during the Stormcloak Rebellion. At the moment he was standing in the doorway of the building, speaking with another man outside who also had the arms of a blacksmith. "No, no, there's nothing more to be done here. Go and enjoy the festivities, Heimvar." Disgruntled, the man turned away, moving past Isus as he did.

Seeing Isus, the man in the doorway eyed him warily. Clearly he expected trouble. Raising an armored hand in front of him, Isus said, "I mean to cause no trouble, blacksmith. I am here to see what you have for sale. It would seem that you are the only blacksmith open now and my ship sets sail tomorrow." The man's eyebrows shot up at the words. Crossing his arms, he said, "You part of Winterblade's crew then? Huh. I never thought that a Templar would accept that mission." Seeing Isus' surprise, he added, "Oh, yes. I know of the mission. How could I miss the posters? And he did buy supplies from me, after all. Most ships that come and go from here do, as I make parts for their ships. Hinges, nails, and the such. But yes, I also have weapons. Come inside and I'll let you have a look." He turned and walked inside, leaving Isus to follow him in.

The inside of the forgehouse was hot. It was heated by a massive furnace on the side, warding off the chill from the sea to the north. Weapons of all sorts lined the walls, both single-handed and two-handed. Isus saw swords, war axes, daggers, and blunt weapons like hammers and maces. There were only a handful of spears and similar polearms though. Missing too were the assortments of marksmen weapons and staves he was accustomed to in Morrowind. Not that he used the latter two. There was a lot of armor as well, but Isus ignored that. He hardly needed more armor.

Walking up to one of the few completed spears, he noted that the blade was well-forged and the wood of the haft was strong and sturdy. There were probably so few because Nords didn't use them. These were purely for outsiders to buy. Turning to face the man, he said, "You do good work, blacksmith. How much for the steel spears?" The man rubbed his chin, clearly balancing the prices. He knew that if someone comes asking for a spear from a Nord blacksmith in Skyrim he probably is desperate for the weapon. Then again, he is probably the only one to ask for them for a long time and would probably know how much one is worth on the outside. "I'd sell them to you for, say, 45 Septims per spear." 45 was higher than the usual 40, but Isus knew he probably would want them at some point. Spears were delicate weapons and prone to damage in battle. He would need these to replace what he lost. "I'll take two." he said.

The blacksmith nodded and said, "Anything else you want? And will you be taking these things with you?" Clearly the man was thinking what it would look like, a Templar hefting a bunch of spears through the festival. Walking over to inspect the steel swords, Isus answered, "I will if I have to, but I am willing to pay for delivery under my name to the Storm Breaker down on the docks." Picking up one of the weapons, he inspected it. It too was of fine quality, if of a Nordic style instead of the Imperial Broadsword he carried. Choosing the best among the racks, he took it and swung it a few times, testing the balance and control. It was close enough to his own that he turned to the blacksmith and said, "I will take this as well. How much?" The blacksmith inspected the weapon, grunting in approval at his choice and said, "60 Septims." Raising an eyebrow, Isus said firmly, "50 Septims. I will take no higher." The man looked at Isus hard. Isus knew that, with the war abated somewhat he could not demand much higher and Imperials were well-known for their silver tongues. "Fine." he said. "That is acceptable."

Turning, Isus went over to the steel shields. Parentus had never made a great effort to teach Isus more than the basics of blocking and Isus couldn't claim to be skilled in using any shield. However, the garrison of Ebonheart made use of them and Isus couldn't help but notice its effectiveness. The examples before him were mostly of Nordic design: essentially reinforced wood with steel bands. Some bore the design of Cyrodiil though: stout banded steel. None of them interested Isus, but one did. It lay gathering dust in the corner. A steel tower shield of Imperial design. Tower shields were rare things these days, even in Cyrodill. They were much more prominent in Morrowind, though Isus couldn't say why. Nevertheless, it would appear that the blacksmith had procured one for some reason. All the better. It was a beautiful thing to Isus, bringing back memories of Ebonheart. Stout steel of high quality, it was honestly little more than a rectangle, but was as reliable as one could ask. Without any prompting, the blacksmith behind him said, "130 Septims and don't think you can bargain any lower." That made sense to Isus. On one hand, that was an incredibly high price. On the other, he was probably eager to be rid of it. Such things could rust easily and importing it was probably expensive to begin with. He was probably selling it at a loss already. Nodding, Isus turned.

Isus retrieved the gold along with 30 more pieces and safely stowed away the remainder. "Here is payment for the weapons and the shield. The rest is for the safe delivery of the weapons to the Storm Breaker before we depart tomorrow." His tone made it clear that 'forgetting' to deliver the goods would be unwise. Nodding, the blacksmith said, "Fear not, Templar, for Beirand has never been late on his orders. I will see to their delivery myself." He bowed Isus out of the shop.

Standing outside the smithy, Isus wondered for a moment whether he had just wasted three hundred Septims. That made him wonder when he would be paid for this voyage, if he survived. Maybe he was over-preparing, paying good gold for things he would never use when he was swept off the ship by a random wind. Come to think of it, he wasn't sure how much they would be paying him. Probably not enough to take him out of the red to the black for a while. Shaking his head at the pointlessness of thinking of such things, he stepped down back into the crowd below.

[La Volpe]

From his seat in the Skeever Val grinned like a mad man as he watched a mountain of a Nord best a rather overly confident Storm Cloak officer with his bare hands, and scatter the rest with a few growled words. All in the defense of a Khajiit. Downing the rest of his mead, Val laughed quietly to himself as the show went on, now with the addition of a rather fearsome young Nord las. "First Mate of Lord Winterblade? Hm... Interesting." Val muttered to himself as he rose from his seat, dropping a few gold pieces to pay for his drinks.

Adjusting his gear, Val slid out of the tavern quietly, his eyes never leaving the trio he'd been watching moments before. Maybe he could find more enjoyment out of this group. Sitting down a bit away from the Tavern, Val decided what to do. He would follow them and see if he could join in the fun that would surly follow these three, and who ever else was apart of this Lord Winterblades crew. Shaking his wild mane of hair, Val grinned happily, his emerald eyes glowing happily as he waited.

[Lord Tully]

When Shava noticed one of the Nord Crewmen, the Ice Wolf, she believed she heard him called, coming from the other direction she knew something serious was about to happen. She moved around to behind the Stormcloaks, one hand ready to draw steel and watched and waited as the massive Nord dealt with the guards. For a change Shava didn't want to fight any of the Stormcloaks, she knew that would only lead to massive trouble for he and the crew, but if any guards drew her hand would be forced.

Luckily or unluckily depending on where one stood, a mountain of a human being lifting their leader by the throat convinced the guards to back down, and when the ship's First Mate came along the situation was truly resolved. Shava would have left it at that, but her stupidly honest desire to earn loyalty and trust from the crew made her step up once again. When First Mate Mirida began yelling at the two and threatening punishments for both, Shava could see the Khajiit, helpfully addressing herself in the third person, protest and stepped forward. "I must speak on behalf of my crewmates Sir." she said with all the respect a solider learned to speak to their commanders, "Khinada is truly innocent in this, the guards were harassing her without cause and Starkad was taking care of his crewmate, as is his duty outlined in our contract."

"Perhaps he should not have broken the man's wrist, but that does not change the truth, he was doing his duty as given him by Lord Winterblade himself." Shava kept her voice cool and submissive, she'd learned that the worst thing you could do when addressing an officer in this manner was to appear angry, or to appear you thought you knew better, or to appear to be begging, or really show any emotion of any kind other then knowing exactly how far below them you were. Shava only hoped that such reasoning worked on First Mate Mirida as well as it worked on Legion Officers. She glanced at Starkad and Khinada to gauge their reactions before looking back at Mirida to await her response.

[Raindrop]

Mirida noticed the one called Shava stepping forward as they slowly moved on, "Is this true? Hmh." Mirida frowned and looked down into the ground, back at the person who obviously knew how to address a person of rank, "Though that make sense, he could have indeed spoken with them before taking physical actions." Mirida halted, she was not feeling good about taking his words into her decision, "I will regret this... But you two can be on your way and celebrate, under the supervision of our own little argonian here, haha, indeed this will be the case, from now on you two follow her orders whenever I am not around. A suitable punishment for all three and I figure you three will learn something from it." Mirida started laughing cruelly at the situation, yet with a sense of delight, "Have fun you three."

Mirida wandered off towards an alley and past through she strolled towards the town exit in order to move for the harbor amused, picking up her bottle of mead and sipped a bit on her way back to the ship, "Oh world how you amuse me." she spoke to herself now being alone again. "Oh world, how it amuse you... Well, you should just feel the way I feel now that you are here." A voice creepily from behind Mirida spoke out as a reply.
Demon?! her first thought as she turned around, hand on her sword, "What kind of creep are you anyway? Another stupid drunkard thinking you can over take me on? Boy will you be in for a treat." Mirida replied as the figure stepped out from the shadows, unmasked and like a memory from the past, it was indeed someone she thought to be dead when he left Dawnstar long ago, "Fefheir..." her voice cold, her mind confused, "Wha..." Mirida tried express her question.

The man lingered his finger along his belt, traveling towards a handle, "What are you doing?" Mirida came to ask, changing her original question. "Haha, you truly are a fool, you can't see anything, you are blinded by illusion. But perhaps you will come to remember things more clearly if, if I just put on my mask." Poison, poison coming from Fefheirs mouth, the idiot, the, the unnameable demon from oblivion.
A mask from the mans pockets lifted into the air and falling to place like a puzzle shard onto his face, his stance...

Everything.

"NO!!!" Mirida shouted, fiercely, horrifyingly falling silent just as quick, "You, you are HIM!? You ar-are..." Mirida had no more words to speak, she had even drawn her sword without knowing it, she was frightened but as ready as can be, "Oh the young mother wants to fight... That is soooo cute, oh but that is right, by accident did I kill your unborn child instead didn't I?" The man laughed as he finished, "What a hero of a kid, saving your life without even knowing it." Fefheir kept on unleashing the bad memories on her, just as poison she felt weak, not wishing to hear anything more about it but his words made it hard for her to focus...

[Rayne7]

After being in the Crow's Nest for so long and seeing everyone leave, Graesin began to feel an itch. Mentally going over the list of his inventory several times, he realized that in spite of his armor and weapons, he had no daggers and that was something that was beginning to bother him. As a fighter, he tended to rely quite a bit on stealth and his bow to make sure he was never overwhelmed, but in certain types of situations he had been forced to rely on his ability with his swords, both of which he practiced with daily. But past experience had taught him that sometimes you would wish to have concealed weapons, and for that he had none.

For a while, he intended to go out upon the return of the crew but as time went on, he felt the itch grow as he began to realize he might be there far longer than he wished to; he had spent the day scouting around and making sure he wasn't hunted before coming to the ship, and now he'd been up in the Crow's Nest for quite some time and now he found that he was impatient to get out and move around.

When he realized that the Captain was the only one left whose name he knew, he replaced his arrow in the quiver, placing his bow in the attached sheath. With an agility that his kind was known for, he leapt over the side and grabbed onto the net, hanging three feet from the ground before letting go and landing lightly on his feet. Looking at the ship he found Winterblade and approached him.

"The crew's been gone a while, including your first mate. All's quiet and I need some supplies. Should I await their return or can you have someone cover the nest until I return myself?" he asked the Captain, his dislike for leaving his post evident even if it was necessary. "I wouldn't ask, but I only need two items and then I'll be back."

[StormyNyte]

As surprised as she still was that a Nord had stepped up to defend her, Khinada found herself surprised again when the Argonian woman from the ship stepped in and spoke up on their behalf. Turning, she gave her a thankful smile before looking back at Mirida. She was relieved when Mirida gave them leave to continue their celebration, but her relief faltered slightly when she instructed the Argonian woman to supervise their revelry.

Glancing from Starkad to the Argonian and then to the Skeever, she gave a light shrug. “Khinada owes you both a drink, she thinks. If not for your intervening, she’d likely be spending the night in jail, or pulling swab duty on the ship.” It was unlikely that she would venture too far from either of them now; chances were that the guards would be looking for any opportunity to catch her alone after this little fiasco. If she had to forgo her meal to afford a round of drinks, so be it. She still had half a loaf of bread back at the ship, though it wouldn’t be nearly as palatable as a big hot platter of juicy venison or mutton. She owed them a debt and, even though she had sticky fingers on occasion, she always made good on her debts.

As she waited for their decision, her gaze drifted back across the street to where Daimus still stood. Catching his eye, she motioned lightly with her head toward the tavern; an unspoken invitation to him as well. If she was going to be spending the evening getting to know her shipmates, she intended to get to know as many as she could before setting sail.

[SikstaSlathalin]

In Solitude

From the doorway of the Skeever an old Nord dressed in Scaled horn armor watched the little show between the crew of the Storm Breaker and the Stormcloak guards. Things seemed well in hand right up until Ice Wolf got physical with the guards the old man grabbed his mace and began moving to try and quell the oncoming storm but he was beaten to it by Mirida Ishart, First Mate of the Storm Breaker. Replacing the mace to his belt loop he went back to his table to finish his ale keeping a weary eye on things. With the appearance of the one-eyed woman everything sort of sizzled out and the guards sulked away two of them taking their wounded comrade to be healed while the others moved to Castle Dour to no doubt inform Captain Istar Cairn-Breaker about this incident and hopefully he'll be civil and ask Captain Winterblade to meet him in private to discuss things.

But the thing about hope is it's sometimes misplaced and things just go from bad to worse. As the excitement ended and the celebrators went back to their dice, cards, and drinking Brunwulf Free-Winter left the musty air of the Skeever once more and stepped out into the crisp cool breeze of Solitude. He had a mind to go listen to the Bards for a little bit and began making his way towards the Collage. He could hear the faint chirp of a flute but it's pleasant spell was broken by the terror stricken shriek of a woman. He expected to see everyone near him to react but they were all too drunk to notice it.
"Damn fools!" He growled drawing his mace running towards the sound. He soon found the source a menacing man had cornered a woman, a woman he recognized.
"Mirida!" He ran past the man and put himself between them glaring at the man hand clenched tightly around his mace.
"Begone you waste of manhood or I'll bury this mace so far into your skull Molag Bal won't even be able to pull it out when I send you to Coldharbour!" The old vet growled studying the shadowy man hoping his presence will shake the First mate out of her shock.

On board the Storm Breaker

Lord Winterblade was studying the notes he had jotted down in his notebook concerning the voyage. His quarters were lined from floor to ceiling with books and scrolls concerning the lore and lands as they knew them now but he had taken it upon himself to write some of the more important things down so he could have quick access to them at all times. Right now he was studying some of the lost races that no one was really sure if they were really lost or just really good at hiding.

His train of thought was disrupted by a voice speaking behind him. Closing his book he turned facing the Bosmer registering his question, and was about to answer it when he noticed a Courier hurrying down the darkened docks towards his vessel.
"Very well Graesin but if my worries are correct I'll be going with you." He moved towards the gang plank to meet the Courier. The man was a young Breton still growing into his adult body, very lanky and awkward looking but Allester could tell he took his job very seriously, He crossed his arms as he reached the docks and nodded to the young man as he approached bowing respectfully.
"Lord Allester Winterblade?"
"Ay lad."
"A message from Captain Cairn-Breaker, he requests your presence in Castle Dour concerning an incident tonight involving some members of your crew and the Town Guards. Apparently the guards got into a misunderstanding with a Khajiit named Khinada and a large Nord calling himself Ice Wolf.The Ice Wolf br..." Allester held up his hand not needing to hear anymore.
"I'll be there right away, here for being quick." He flipped the young man a Septim watching him hurry off before turning to Graesin.
"Go do what you need to do and tell any crew members you see to meet me in the Winking Skeever before 11th bell." He looked at the moon gauging the time. "So an hour and a half depending on how long it takes me to deal with Istar. Lars!" He shouted at the hard working Nord sailor who soon joined the Captain and Graesin on deck he was half naked wearing only his long pants... Well he gets points for being quick.

The old Nord looked the man over but he soon figured out what was going on.
"Losing another game of cards to the women huh?" The Sailor nodded sheepishly trying to hide his hand behind his back.
"Aye Cap'n, I swear Ana and Minerva cheat everytime." The Captain smirked shaking his head.
"Or you and Pyke don't know when to give up, where are Ortis, Swims, Gat, Jolly, Lucina, and Viera?"
"Ortis is snuggling with a bottle of Black Briar Mead he brought to celebrate the voyage, Swims is doing what Swims does best, swimming laps around the bay. Gat and Jolly are in the galley inventorying things, and last I saw them the twins had dropped off their supplies and went to talk with some friends at the Collage."
Allester nodded.
"Well I've been summoned to Castle Dour and the rest of the crew is still up there so I leave you in charge of the ship until either myself, Mirida, or Daimus return understood?" Lars nodded saluting the other Nord with his card hand before he corrected himself switching the cards to his left one.
"Aye, aye sir!" With the orders given he nodded to the Bosmer and took off at a steady jog towards the Castle already knowing what was going on. More idiotic racism.

He made it to the gates quickly enough the Stormcloak guards being scared into sobriety by the sudden appearance of a living legend storming from the shadows. They didn't even question him they just opened the gates and let the man pass. Bobbing, weaving, and nudging his way through the thronging crowds he moved swiftly up the ramp to Castle Dour and stopped at the gate spotting more guards they stopped him the shadows hiding his features well enough.
"Halt, who goes there?!" Shouted the larger of the pair.
"He who can shatter your skull with his bare hands." He growled stepping into the light watching the guards visibly shrink back a little bit.
"Iron Bear, we're sorry sir. We didn't recognize you, Captain Cairn-Breaker is waiting for you inside." He pushed open the door for Allester and let him pass before closing it behind the man taking a deep breath steadying his hand a bit.

Lord Winterblade knew exactly where to go to find the Stormcloak Captain of Solitude.
Moving to General Tullius's quarters he was greeted by a deep voice barely holding an edge of anger drifting through the open door.
"I've been expecting you my lord please come in and be seated."
Allester entered the room but remained standing it was a sparsely furnished room a wooden bed covered in hides, weapons racks lining the wall displaying various kinds of Imperial weapons and armor. Istar was seated in a high-backed chair looking at a roaring fire not even giving the Lord a sign of respect due his rank and title.
"I'll stand, now what is this nonsense about your guards messing with members of my crew?" Allester had never fought personally besides Istar but he heard the man was the stereotypical Stormcloak bigot that gave the rest of them a bad name. The Stormcloak simply shrugged like it was no big deal.
"The Khajiit was spotted stealing coins from the pockets of citizens."
"Any proof other than this supposed witness?"
"We didn't need any, her kind are notorious for stealing. And that great lunk of an ex Stormcloak physically assaulted one of my best men! I bet he bedding that furry little bitch as we speak, the lizard too. He's a freak of nature, he's openly bedded some Khajiit harlot in the past ya know. " Before the man could spew anymore vile Allester's fist was balled up and connected with his temple sending him sprawling from the chair and into one of the weapons racks barley avoiding being skewed on an Imperial long sword.
"You pitiful, close-minded skeever waste." He growled watching Istar recover with the skill of a solider. Istar roared grabbing the long sword that almost killed him and charged Allester, the old warrior's jaw clenched and his hands opened. Not even drawing his greatsowrd he caught the Stormcloak's forearm and yanked it past smashing his massive shoulder into the other man's nose breaking it before letting him fall back once more. Cairn-Breaker growled in pain holding some linen to his nose to stop the blood.
"They're blights on our homeland! And anyone that sides with them over their fellow man deserve to life the rest of their miserable lives out in the Oblivion!" The older Nord's hand went to his greatsword but he growled letting go of the familiar grip.
"The only reason, I'm not dragging you to Windhelm now to explain to his majesty why you're underlings are ignoring his royal decrees is because I'm on a mission from the High King and time cannot be wasted in such a way. But I will be writing a letter to him describing this whole situation. And a friendly word of advice, start treating everyone equally or I will find out and you will wish for just a broken wrist before I'm finished with you." He let the words hang in the air before leaving Istar's stolen room making his way towards the Skeever.

[Lord Tully]

Shava nearly shouted in protest, how was it even remotely fair to punish her along with Starkad and Khinada? All she had done was confirm that they were innocent of all wrong doing so none of them should have been punished at all. But Shava knew that would only make things worse, and so bit her tongue until Mirida had left. When the Nord woman was gone Shava brought her hands to her temples, so much for building up good faith with the officers, at least Kinada seemed to be grateful for her words. "If I'm going to be dealing with her for years I might need your help to stock up on drink." she said clearly unhappy with their current arrangement.

Shava then turned to Starkad, "It was good of you to step in on her behalf, most Nords do not look so kindly upon our races." she said thanking him in some manner, "My name is Shava, since I don't think we have been introduced yet." She then gestured back towards the higher district, "The Bard's Collage probably has a much better spread then anything we'll get in there. I've always been told the Bards hold the best parts of these festivals so I was just heading there for one last properly cooked meal before heading off to sea." She told them, turning to begin walking hoping that the two would follow.

Before she could take a full 3 steps however, some ungodly scream pierced the air which was followed by a large man charging out of The Winking Skeever at full pace towards the sound. "The gods much hate this day for some reason." Shava muttered, before turning towards the source of the scream and drawing both swords, "Take this and follow me." She said to Khinada as she tossed the unarmed Khajiit a blade and took off at a sprint towards the scream. Shava arrived to find the man from The Skeever threatening some strange looking man, Shava had never seen anyone quite like him but whoever he was he had clearly been threatening First Mate Mirida, and he terrified her.

If Mirida was screaming out of fear then this man was clearly more then just a man, so just her and this stranger might not be enough, "Mirida!" she shouted hoping to catch the woman's attention enough for her to fight. She stepped forward to stand behind the man from The Skeever, her toe claws twitching slightly, "Stay away from her." Shava hissed at her target.

[Raindrop]

Staring onto the figure before her she suddenly heard thuds from the streets, closing in and hopefully were it reinforcements. Suddenly a larger man and Shava in tail came rushing up to Miridas aid.

Though her stare was fast locked onto Fefheir, but quickly did the eyes focus on the man and Shava who had come for Mirida and though she quickly shifted back looking more focused then just a moment ago, Mirida swallowed what felt like a stone which was stuck in her throat, "You are not getting out of here alive and if you do, mark my words, I will find you and end you." Mirida spoke to the man who had changed his offensive stance to a more non lethal one, it was defensive but not to be taken lightly.

Now she was spinning her blade again, confidence regaining a space inside of her, "Tables are turned Fefheir, it is your choice." Mirida claimed, quickly getting a reply.
"Haha, a drunkard from the tavern and a SLAVE lizard with lack of battle experience will be no match for me, it is simply knowing when you will strike that concerns me."
Fefheir was hissing back with an abominated smile, "I can't believe you don't know how to identify a vampire." Fefheir was correct, a light redish glow from his eyes, he was indeed turned but only fairly recently.

[StormWolf]

"He could have indeed spoken with them before taking physical actions"? Starkad replayed what Mirida said in his head a few times. Had be been a less scornful man, he may have smiled or even snickered at the irony of it all. Starkad had given the milk-drinker more than an earful before things turned hostile. It was not violent, at least by Starkad's standards. If he had gotten violent, the Stormcloak guard and his friends would gave gone to Sovengarde with major re-assembly required.

"More than enough air was wasted on those weak livered milk-drinkers. I talked at them, but they apparently did not speak the language of reason, so I spoke the language everyone understands." Starkad said and clenched his fist of visual emphasis. Departing from the First mate with his two beastfolk comrades and the Dunmer smith, Starkad made his way towards the Skeever. Both Shava and Khinada expressed their appreciation of Starkad's actions, which was something. Khinada even wanted to buy Starkad some drinks, which he would never turn away.

"I only did the right thing. I didn't do what I did in the war to have our freedom stamp out the freedoms of others. I will take that drink, though." Finally, a thin smile cracked across Starkad's face, his smile slightly twisted due to the scar on his face. The smile did not last, however, and it mutated into a ferocious snarl the moment a curdling scream tore though the night like a serrated dagger. Drawing his axe, Starkad looked to Khinada and leaned his head towards the noise.

"The drink can wait, lassie. Come on." Twirling his axe in his hand, Starkad followed behind Shava as she took off after the source of the scream. It was Mirida, the woman who appeared so strong and ironclad but moments ago, confronted by a man who was obviously a tormentor. A mace-bearing Nord had already stepped in, it seemed, and Starkad already had the attention of the Watch. He would intervene if he needed to, but the mace-bearing Nord seemed more than capable of handling himself.

"Stay back unless we are really needed. I'd rather not get more attention drawn to us."

[StormyNyte]

Catching the blade tossed to her by Shava, she swung it in a loose circle at her side to familiarize herself with the feel of it before nodding to Starkad and padding quickly after the Argonian. Khinada would’ve much preferred to be holding two blades, but she was just as formidable with one. She only hoped that whatever problem they were rushing towards was easily dealt with.

When her silent footfalls brought her around the corner, she bared her teeth at the sight of their First Mate cornered by someone, no something. Catching a whiff of a scent she had only encountered once in her life, she hissed as the hair along her back and neck bristled. Her grip on the sword hilt tightened as Starkad voiced for her to stand off. With a low growl, she warned her companions. “On your guard, friends, that is no mere man. He carries the scent of death with him.”

Her fierce gaze never wavered from the cursed man. For a brief moment, she actually contemplated raising the alarm with the rest of the city; but she quickly dismissed the thought.

[La Volpe]

Val hadn't had to wait long for more excitement it seemed. As he'd rose from his seat, he watched as the three patrons from earlier rush off in the direction of a female scream, and the direction he'd watched there first mate go off. His hands at first dropped down to the twin axes at his sides. But as he saw the press of bodies now in the area of the scream, his hands quickly relaxed. A different idea coming to mind. Turning towards the direction the docks resided, Val set off at a quick pace, whistling a happy tune. It'd take him a little bit to get through the crowed, but he'd reach the groups ship by the time whatever fun they were about to have was over.

"Shame I'll miss it... But I think this will lead to more fun..." He laughed to himself as he weaved through the crowed easily, his smile never wavering. He'd caught the name of there Captain, and he'd seen the postings for a spot on the good Lord Winterblades expedition. Why pass that adventure up?

[Imperial1917]

To Isus, it would have seemed humanly impossible that the crowd outside could get any rowdier than when he went in. Yet it seemed to be so. He winced at the ruckus caused by the mob of people walking the streets, heads fill more with drink than thought. None of them seemed to pay him mind as he made his way towards the apothecary's shop, not even the guards. They were watching something else. Following one of their gazes, he saw a tail whip around a corner into an alleyway. An Argonian tail.

Isus was instantly suspicious. What dark business did that lizard have, so far from the revelries? Even Isus himself was technically within the crowd, drinking or not. The Stormcloak guards seemed to agree with Isus. Before he could say anything, a number of them, at least four, departed from their posts and converged on the alleyway. Most likely they were just as suspicious of the scaly-skinned kind and that was why they were watching the Argonian. Well, props to them for being alert as far as Isus was concerned.

Making his way through the crowd, pushing and pulling, Isus finally made it to the Apothecary's shop. Angeline's Aromatics, the shop's sign proclaimed. Most likely the shop was more used to selling things for Lords and Ladies to entertain themselves with, but it was still a good bet if Isus' suspicions were right. Opening the door into the interior, he entered and closed it behind him, cutting off the sounds of festival as he did.

The interior of the shop was dark and cool. It was lit by candlelight. Immediately upon entry before Isus was a counter at which an elderly woman was working. She looked up and said, "Hello, dear. Welcome to Angeline's Aromatics. Please let me know if there is anything you need help with." He nodded to her, slightly surprised she didn't even raise an eyebrow at his Templar armor. Maybe she thought that it was a joke. Maybe she didn't believe one such as he could be a Templar. Or maybe she had just been around long enough that such things didn't surprise her.

Browsing the shelves, Isus wondered exactly what he was looking for. The only thing he could think of was cure poison potions, though that didn't really make sense. Father Matanus had taught him the Restoration spell for it already. So why was he here? Maybe he just wanted out of the open. Or maybe he thought to pick a potion up for his comrades. He didn't like the look of some of them. They would probably try and slip poison around at some point and Isus didn't know the spell to cure others. Maybe that was it.

He sorted through some of the potions, all of which had price tags attached. Most were of Skyrim style. Here, a magicka restoration potion. He could use that, but it was cumbersome in battle. There, a resist shock potion. Potentially useful, but then he already had Wraithguard. Another potion, but he could not tell what it was, though he uncorked it and smelled its contents. The label was worn away. There were a number of potions for the adventurer including potions of the warrior, the knight, and the berserker, but they were to expensive for his taste. There were also some Cyrodiilic potions such as potions of detect life and, surprisingly, a dusty potion of exploration. Morrowind potions were present as well including potions of rising force, swift swim, and water-walking.

Drawing back from the shelf, Isus rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Father Matanus had tried, mostly in vain, to teach most of those last to Isus. Isus had never really gotten very far with Jump, which was what Father Matanus said he needed to master before moving on to Levitate. Isus had only managed to get so much higher off the ground than he normally would and landings were... painful. The Father's attempts to teach him Slowfall were not as successful. He had nearly drowned more than once trying to get water-walking to work in spite of Father Matanus' insistence that he learn. Why he had not thought to learn over a puddle or shallow pond he forgot. Probably just arrogance on his part at the time. He had more success with swift swim, which he learned to work even in his heavy armor though he was, of course, faster without it. He was a decent swimmer without the spell too. Come to think of it, all of those would be pretty useful with his coming voyage.

Eventually, Isus settled on purchasing some cure poison potions. Taking them to the counter, he set them down. He noted as the woman calculated the cost that she provided a sack to carry them in. Thoughtful of her. He paid her for the cost of the potions, thanked her, and left. Perhaps it was time to sample the mutton around here.

[Jacogos]

Somehow, with the crowd and confusion of everything going on, Daimus managed to quietly distance himself from the rabble, watching from afar as the scene played before him. The Nord nearly broke a man in half and Miri nearly bit his head off for it. He couldn't blame her, though he believed the Khajiit when she said she didn't do anything worth getting the guards' attention.

After things had settled down, Daimus made his way back towards the ship, not wishing to bother with this nonsense anymore. As such, he didn't hear Mirida's scream and was blissfully unaware of the event unfolding in the city.

Making his way back onto the Storm Breaker, the Dunmer ignored the other crewmen and made his way down to his 'smithy', a small room with a workbench, anvil, stone water trough, whetstone wheel, and such for him to work with. Forgoing sleeping with the others, the elf had made a little nest for himself in the corner. It wasn't going to be nearly as comfortable by comparison to the cots in the Men's Quarters, but it saved him the uncomfortable sleeping arrangements.

"Oy, now if only we were off and sailin' already..." he muttered to himself, running a hand along the anvil. Captain Winterblade had made the arrangements for getting him his necessary equipment. It wasn't the best stuff, but it made do for what was needed: a blacksmith needed for repairing and emergency creation of weapons for a crew of no more than twenty.

"I'll get better soon, with any luck..." he said, moving about his work space with a thoughtful look in his eye. He might even turn in early. Such was life, he supposed.

[Rayne7]

Graesin had almost turned to leave when the courier came up, delivering a message to Lord Winterblade. Deciding to stay and see if he could get an idea of what was going on, though he suspected he knew. Listening, he had raised an eyebrow at the captain when his presence was requested to Castle Dour, but wasn't really surprised. With his final orders, he nodded to the man and left at his own pace, pulling up the hood of his cloak so that he wouldn't arouse attention from the guards.

Keeping his face hidden, he walked up the path towards Solitude, keeping an eye out for his crew-mates so that he could pass along the message. And so it was that he heard a couple of them, somewhere off the main streets. As he followed the direction, he came upon a strange scene of several of them surrounding a man. Spying the First Mate, he knew that whoever it was must pose some kind of threat.

Without so much as a single word, he went back the way he came to another side alley, then climbed the side of the building adjacent to the scene. Once on the roof, he crouched low and drew his bow, nocking an arrow as he crept up and moved into a position where he could keep aim on the man's head, ready to fire if need be. The only thing that kept him from firing now, was the fact that nobody else had attacked. And if this could be solved without bloodshed, so much the better.

Though for their sakes, he sincerely hoped he had time to buy a pair of daggers after this.

[TsukiHime]

Sovia awakes because she hear rambling from outside, she wonder what in the World is happening. She rub her eyes and she know she still sleepy. She get up from her bunk and walk outside to see what happen, her jaw opened when she saw the scenes "What in the world happen here..?!" she ask to her self.

She look around and see a man just looking at the scene calmly. Okay.. WAY too calm to be exact and she notice the man who help her on the roof point something.. like.. an ARROW..!!. That man want to kill someone or stop someone Sovia doesnt know anymore. she has this crazy idea to stop the scene by frezzing them all then everyone can have her head later but she know she doesnt have the heart or the will to do that.

[SikstaSlathalin]

*Brunwulf*

Brunwulf watched with steady eyes as more people joined them in the alley another Nord, followed by a Khajiit and an Argonian. And he could see the guards making their ways through the crowd towards them.
"I'm no drunkard, I am Brunwulf Free-Winter and I've killed my fair share of Vampires, besides we have you outnumbered greatly. Even a Master Vampire would have trouble with these odds, a new blood like you will fall before the guards even get here." Fefheir simply smirked twirling his daggers around his fingers counting the numbers noticing the arrival of a Bosmer on a nearby roof.
"That would be true but as I'm sure you know, Vampires never travel alone." He hissed and like that five people stepped from the crowd weapons drawn. These were Thralls and they just evened up the numbers.

Brunwulf could tell Miri and this assassin were going to lock horns he'd have to find another target, and he did. An Altmer wielding an Ebony Sword moved to attack the Argonian. Moving with speed you wouldn't expect an older man to have he smashed a nearby barrel and hurled the top at the Mer's head catching him square on the nose stunning him, before the other's could react he was upon the next Thrall, a Breton with a pair of war axes of Forsworn make by the crudeness of them. Swinging his own weapon he shattered the one axe and thus began the skirmish that would be talked about for months.

The Altmer recovered from the surprise attack and swing his sword at Shava's legs trying to cripple her. The remainder of the Thralls picked a target and attacked them full bore. A Bosmer with one ear attacked Khinada using a pair of glass daggers, a Nord roughly the size of Stark attacked the man with an Ebony War hammer, the last Thrall was actually an archer was well and a Redguard to boot. He quickly climbed up to an adjacent roof and began shooting off arrows at Graesin, keeping the Bosmer from firing down upon his comrades.


*Lord Winterblade*

The Lord's blood was boiling slightly at the ignorance of his own race and the bigotry that brings nothing but insult and dishonour upon any who practice it. And to think he almost died fighting for this land. He face scared many of the partiers who scampered out of his way even quicker than before. He needed to calm down before he did something he'd regret and mead would only make it worse, there was only one place he could go. The lute had always calmed him down when he was having a bad day and his daughter was one of the best Lute Players he knew. Taking a left he made his way through the stumbling crowd to go visit his daughter who would no doubt be driving all the men crazy with her stunning good looks and amazing playing skill.

[Lord Tully]

"A vampire? Is that supposed to frighten me?" Shava asked with confidence, she'd never truly fought a member of the undead, but she'd fought uglier then him then this, "I've killed men worth 6 of you, monster." During the Stormcloak rebellion, Shava nearly always found herself outnumbered by her enemy, the risk of being a skirmisher really, but she still cut a swath of death clear across Skyrim during those years.

But before she could make good on her intentions of turning the Vampire's fangs into a necklace, Thralls of the vampire appeared out of the crowd and the lid of a barrel flew past Shava's head into the foremost one. Though she hated taking her eye off the Vampire, there were more immediate threats Shava needed to worry about. Turning to face the Altmer, Shava easily blocked his initial swing, but his sword was Ebony, so her plain steel would not hold up long in a contest between them.

Looking to disarm her opponent, Shava lashed out a kick and using her large toe claw sliced the Altmer across the wrist, which he responded to slamming his free hand into her gut. On top of the blow, the Altmer gripped her belt and yanked her away from her comrades, it seemed the vampire wished to spread them out. The blow was unimportant though, only a means to unbalance her while still on one foot and allow her to be pulled and tossed towards the end of the alley, though she caught her feet before coming to a stop. The Altmer may have been a Thrall and stronger then a normal man, but he was still living, and so could be killed as any living man could.

The problem would be finding an opportunity to attack, with a strength that suddenly made Shava dearly wish she'd taken up learning the shield, the Altmer came at her swinging his ebony sword with a skill and speed that forced Shava further back and keep dodging for fear of destroying her only weapon if she blocked. A boon finally came when the Altmer swung and as Shava ducked, dug his sword into the wooden corner of the building at the very end of the alley, where they did not particularly care if they were seen. Taking immediate advantage of he enemy's slip Shava swung upwards as she rose and cut the Elf deep causing him to let go of his weapon, before swinging at his torso. It seemed however that being dominated by a Vampire gave one extraordinary endurance, as the Altmer caught Shava's wrist with his uninjured hand leaving her open for him to slam his forehead against face.

The blow dazed her allowing the Altmer to swing her and slam her against the wall of the alley, the force of the impact caused Shava to drop her sword and slid down against the wall a little. In an attempt to take advantage of his opponent's moment of weakness, the Elf attempted to pull his sword free with his uninjured hand, but Shava was strong enough to recover long before he could. Coming up behind the Altmer, Shava grabbed his head and slammed it against the wall twice, before throwing the bloodied elf to the ground. He was still not quite dead, so Shava wrenched his own sword out of the wooden pillar, though before she could strike he wrapped a leg around her's to trip her up.

This however only brought her down on top of him, where Shava held him against the stone ground and using one forceful motion slammed the sword against his neck, decapitating him. Heavily bruised and bloody nosed, Shava quickly scrambled to be away from the now dead thrall and scooped up her own sword in her free hand before speeding back into the alley to jump into any fights she was needed in.

[Imperial1917]

Solitude
Isus was almost content. Just a few more items and he could go back to the Storm Breaker. Maybe he would grab some mutton and mead on the way down. Judging by the drunken Nords walking around, the local establishments didn't require you to eat off of a plate at Mid-Year Festival. That wasn't to say that some of the Nords hadn't gotten creative...

Shaking himself, he gazed around the crowd, noting a disturbance in it. That was most unusual. It normally took a lot to disturb a Nord with his belly comfortably full of mead. Looking over heads, he spotted what he thought to be the Captain's back. He was headed away from the Skeever. Strange. Isus didn't remember him mentioning that he would be leaving the ship. Nor did Isus think that would have been his lot. Most Captains, knowing their sailors, wouldn't leave the ship the day before shore leave. Besides the need to direct them to tidy things up before leaving, they also needed to keep the drunken ones from beating each other to a pulp. Isus had seen it countless times in Ebonheart. Not that it concerned Isus right now. The captain was obviously not the source of the growing clamor.

Suddenly, it struck Isus. He looked over to the alleyway, the one that he had seen the guards going towards before going inside. Yes, that was it. The guards were already positioned around the confrontation and the crowd behind them was going wild. Drunk or not, full of mutton or not, the Nords could hardly miss the clash of weapon on weapon or curses. If that failed to get their attention, the archer climbing up the side of a building wouldn't have, especially when he started firing arrows across the place. The flash of ebony weapons in the light didn't help things either.

Now, normally, most crowds would react exactly as some of those in the mob did. They turned tail and ran, only succeeding in hampering the progress of the guards. But these were not normal circumstances. This was Skyrim and these were Nords. Nords loved battle. More than that, it was Mid-Year Festival and these Nords were extremely, extremely drunk. The thought that they probably had better things to spend their lives on probably didn't occur to the ones nearby to the fight that balled up their fists and advanced almost as fast as the four guards, who had drawn their weapons.

They weren't the only ones either. Glancing to his sides, Isus saw the crowd rapidly take notice of the problem and rapidly split into the parties who were trying to run and those who were trying to get in on the action. It wasn't pretty. Add to that the additional half-dozen guards who were now rushing in to support their comrades in what they clearly saw as a rapidly deteriorating situation and things were going to get ugly without a doubt. Isus didn't blame them. He wouldn't be surprised if half the city was burned down come dawn. That sort of thing could happen with brawls like this one was becoming. Even now he could see some of the street vendors desperately packing up shop and trying to get away as fast as they could cart their goods.

Isus figured he should get involved. He should, but he wouldn't. There were several reasons for this. First was the lack of value in the action. He wasn't scared or a coward. He had long since realized that his duty would bring about his death someday. That was something he didn't let bother him anymore. The problem was that he knew that there was nothing to gain from getting involved. Even if the brawl didn't turn into a massive bloodbath rife with drunken looting and pillaging before the day was over, anybody involved would probably end up dead or in the dungeons of Castle Dour. Isus had never been there before and he didn't intend to pay a state-arranged visit now. He probably wouldn't reach the fight before it either ended or descended into all-out anarchy anyways.

More than that, he had other duties to see to. Being in the dungeons meant that he would functionally disobeying a direct order from the captain and would also probably not be departing on the Storm Breaker the next day. Hardly what he had in mind when he signed up.

No, somebody else would have to fight this battle. It was not his to fight.

Still, it didn't hurt to let people know what was happening. Turning slightly, he re-opened the door of the apothecary almost smacking it right into the face of the old woman in the process. After a hasty apology which she good-naturedly smiled off, she said, a look of concern on her face, "What in the name of Talos is going on out there?" After a brief pause both to think of how he was going to say what was happening and contemplate her invocation of the man-god's name, Isus responded, "Brawl. Big brawl. Lots of weapons, expensive ones. Expensive and deadly. It looks like half of Skyrim is getting involved. Best to stay inside, mother." She looked up to him and he was surprised to see no fear in her face, just wariness. "Well, I guess that answers my question. I do hope that Vivienne doesn't get herself mixed up in that terrible business. I guess I better close up shop for the day. I was closing soon anyways. Will you be joining me, young man?" Isus was startled. He had hardly expected such an offer. After a moment and a glance back at the crowd, he said, "No, mother. I think not. I have other matters to attend to before the night is spent." Nodding sagely, she said, "Best of luck to you then." He allowed the door to close and heard what sounded like a wooden bar being drawn across it. He worried for a moment about the old woman. He doubted that such a flimsy defense would help, especially if there was a fire. Well, there was nothing for it.

Turning back, he headed into the crowd. He didn't go in the direction of the brawl though. He headed instead in the direction of the main general goods store of the city. Bits and Pieces said the sign. He went up to the door and tried the handle. It was locked. Pressing the wood of the door lightly, he found that it was strong and immobile around the center of the door. Clearly it was already closed. Whether this happened before the brawl as the owner was out and about or that they had locked up like Angeline at the sign of the brawl, he couldn't say. The point was that it wasn't budging and he was wasting his time. He could probably cut through the door, but they probably wouldn't sell him anything after that and he was no man to steal when he could pay. Leaving the door, he fumed silently at the fight for disturbing his last chance to prepare for the voyage. It also occurred to him that he probably wouldn't be getting a hot meal tonight either. Resigned to these things, he turned and headed for the docks. Maybe he could at least fill his belly with something there.

-----
The Docks

Isus made it to the ship without any major problems. The crowds were still thick, but that was just insulation from the fight. Nobody bothered him. Why pick a losing fight with a Templar when you can get an easy fight with some poor group of wretches who were going to be dead or bloody pulp by dawn? All in all, it was probably the one smart decision they made that night, if not that whole day.

Boarding the ship, Isus noted that most of the people were not present. More than that, it occurred to him that if there was a guard present, knowing only the captain, he would have difficulty convincing them that he was supposed to be there, as they had no official identification system. He figured that the captain expected people to get familiar with each other as the journey went, but right now it was downright dangerous to allow unknown persons to walk about uncontested. He would bring it up with the captain next time he saw him.

Moving down to towards the men's quarters, he encountered more evidence that served to convince him of his belief. There was an open crate on the ground. Or an open box, more rather. It was elongated, but also wide. Its lid lay besides it. Looking in, he saw a sword, some spears, and a tall tower shield. It did not take long for him to realize that this were the arms that he had purchased at the smithy. The Nord had been true to his word. At least, Isus could be sure he delivered the goods. He would come back to get them later.

Continuing his progress through the ship, he paused. There was a light in one of the rooms. Walking to it, he looked in. The Dunmer that he had verbally combated with earlier was inside, but that wasn't what caught Isus' attention. There were a number of smithing items in the room. A workbench, an anvil, a water trough, and tools and such. The quality of the materials was very high to Isus' eye, though he couldn't claim to be a connoisseur of all things smithing. Still, he figured he had been in enough accomplished smithies to say that these were no run-of-the-mill pieces of equipment. What a waste of good coin.

Isus was no smith. He had never been trained as one. Parentis had only taught him how to gauge a good smith and know what was good smithing work. It was a necessity of any armed man's life. If you didn't know what you wanted when you went to the smith, how were you supposed to know what they should sell to you things at? More importantly, how are you supposed to know when the thing they sell you is likely to save your life or at least serve its purpose so you could do your duty? Isus had seen a lot of smithies. It came with the profession. And he had learned a thing or two about smithing. One of them was about cold forging. And that one thing was that it didn't work.

Unbidden, the old axiom of his mentor came to mind. "A smith without a forge is like archers without wood which are like wolves without teeth." It was just so. If you couldn't heat metal and keep it hot enough to shape, there was no way to make or repair anything metal. It was as simple as that. The only possible exception he could think of was the occasional broken mail link. Everything else, even a line of broken chain links, required a forge. The metal had to be hot to shape. And a forge hot enough to shape would catch a ship on fire. The best cold forging was for was for emergency creation of low-quality nails and such. Isus had heard that happening for ships. He had also heard captains say that they would never take their ship out with so much as a door hinge cold-forged. Brittle as wafers. That is what one captain Isus had overheard once gripe about cold forged items. Useless. What was the captain playing at? Another thing to discuss with him.

Withdrawing with only a carefully respectful nod at the Dunmer, who it appeared to be both ship quartermaster and smith, he made his way to the men’s quarters. Assessing his chest, he was pleased to see that it was undisturbed. Quick motions had the chest opened, the additional items he had procured placed inside neatly, and the chest shut, locked, and bound with spell again. He had taken out his armor kit though as well as some food. After chewing down the sad day-before-shore-leave meal and placing the kit down, he retrieved the items from the deck. He then set about preparing the items and seeing to his weapons and armor. He inspected them for damage, sharpened with his whetstone what needed sharpening, cleaning what needed cleaning, applied what ointments against rust and sea spray he could, and began polishing them. He wanted everything to look well for the time of departure the next day and he had nothing else to do.

By the time he laid down for sleep, clad in his cleaned but unpolished armor, for he was going to do that in the morning, his weapons were fit for both battle and ceremony. The smith had added some leather straps to the shipment, no doubt because it was such a large purchase, and Isus had used them to tie things in place so they wouldn’t block people’s path or move about. He kept his sword handy.

As he waited for sleep, he wondered idly what had become of the fight and the shipmates he knew were probably still in the city.

[Rayne7]

The moment the Vampire's eyes met his, Graesin knew there was something wrong. When the five stepped forward he fired an arrow, unknowingly striking the man that a Nord struck with a barrel lid. What happened after that, he wasn't sure as he was forced to take cover from an enemy archer on the roof across from him. Ducking out of sight, he quickly analyzed the situation before coming up with a solution and sheathing his bow.

Rolling off the roof so as to keep out of sight, he landed lightly on his feet and ran around, sticking to the shadows as the archer waited for him to appear. Slipping around behind the building the archer was on, he leapt up and planted his feet firmly against the wall, his hands holding onto the edge. Kicking with enough force to somersault himself onto the roof, he drew his swords and rushed. But the archer had heard the swords clearing their sheaths, and sidestepped out of the way, hitting Graesin with his bow, knocking him back. Tossing aside his bow, the archer drew a pair of daggers and the two faced off.

Knowing his best chance was to take the offensive, the archer moved forward, his daggers slashing away at a furious pace, forcing him back before he dodged to the left, trying to get room to maneuver as he cursed his own lack of knives. Taking a small nick on his left arm, he decided to change tact. Dropping to one knee as the man slashed where he'd been standing, he brought his swords into cleaving slashes from either side, standing the moment the imperial blocked the attack with his knives. The move pushed upward on the man's blades and forced his hands up, giving Grae an opening as he spun in a quick pirouette, barely missing the man, and it was then that the archer knew he was in trouble and turned and ran, leaping to the next roof. Graesin immediately sheathed his swords and pulled his bow from his back, his other hand snatching an arrow from the quiver and drawing it in the same motion before he took half a breath and half a second to aim before firing at the same moment the man ducked. The imperial felt the arrow cut a line across his arm and knew that he had to do something and so he turned and fired at the same time as Graesin, the arrows passing right by each other mid-flight.

At first the Imperial thought Graesin had missed until he went to draw his bow. The string hung from both ends, broken. Grae's next arrow caught him square in the back, knocking him off the roof.

Then he turned to the mob below, realizing he wouldn't be able to get a clear shot even as he drew another arrow and readied his bow, watching for another enemy to present themselves clearly for another shot.

[StormWolf]

Vampires. . . That explains the smell of death and the reek of arrogance even the Stormcloaks cannot produce, Starkad thought to himself, eyes narrowing as the Vampire Assassin spoke, hissing like the conniving snake he was. Flexing his grip around the haft of his axe, the Ice Wolf wound his body tighter and tighter like the bow of a ballista, readying himself to unleash his fury against the enemy. The group of them, skilled fighters all, would have made quick business of the Vampire before his Thralls emerged. Starkad, however, was not disheartened by this, especially when he saw the Thrall that faced him. Another Nord of similar size hefting a mighty ebony warhammer approached Starkad, eyes dead and limbs the the soulless breathing of a husk. There was no longer a son of Skyrim in that body. Death would be a release for this man made a victim.

The Thrall attacked, charging in and swinging his hammer in a mighty overhead swing, letting momentum do half the work for him. Starkad leapt to the side, the ebony hammer head smashing the cobbled stones of the Solitude streets. Taking advantage of the Thrall's recovery from such a swing, Starkad counter-attacked with a horizontal chop to the midsection of the Thrall. With dull thwang, the axe connected with the hammer's haft as the Thrall blocked. Stepping back, the Thrall readied its hammer again, swinging horizontally this time. Starkad was already on the move by the time the Thrall had initiated its second swing, tucking his shoulder to roll under the swing.

Considering his size, Starkad is not the most dextrous of folk, but his maneuver was still effective in its own respect. The clumsy roll sent Starkad's heavy frame crashing into the Thrall's knees, breaking them to bend the wrong way with a sickening snap. The Thrall buckled and collapsed, face showing now sign of recognizing the pain. It was almost as if the Thrall did not acknowledge its legs breaking, as it tried to stand once more. It had started to try and use its hammer to push itself from the ground before Starkad's boot landed on the soulless Nord's chest and shoved it back to the cold stone floor. Raising his axe high, Starkad brought the steel down and buried it to the teeth of the Thrall, watching as the black pool of blood, flecked with skull fragments and brain matter, spread across the stone.

Grunting, Starkad planted his foot into the dead Thrall's chest, roughly crunching the Nord's ribcage as Starkad wrenched his bloodied axe free. Growling like a beast, he sheathed his axe on his belt loop and picked up the fallen Thrall's warhammer. Starkad had never been one for ebony weapons - too expensive and awkwardly weighted, but they would do in this instance. The function of a warhammer was painfully simple, but it should be more than enough to bury the Vampire and his chaff. Hefting the hammer in his hands, Starkad advanced through the clearing made by the chaos like Ysgramor himself.

Up above, Starkad heard the exchanging of arrows. Looking to the rooftops, he caught a skillful shot by one of his crewmates that knocked the Thrall archer from his perch, crashing into the street below. Pushing people aside, Starkad made his way to the Imperial Thrall, seeking to make sure it would not get up. He found it, struggling to stand with compound fractures in its arms and legs, blood bubbling from its mouth. The arrow appeared to have pierced a lung, and the fall likely peppered the Imperial's lungs with rib fragments. Still, nearly dead was not dead enough. Casually approaching, Starkad raised the ebony warhammer and brought it down on the Thrall Imperial's head, crushing it like a melon with a nauseating crunch and a pop as a bowl was made from its skull, filled with the pulp of pulverized brain and skull. Starkad could feel the splash of hot blood on his face, smell the sickly alluring scent of freshly spilled blood. It risked the spread of a cruel grin on Starkad's face. Having cooped himself up in his castle for so long, the rush of battle was nearly forgotten to the Nord, and feeling it again filled him with a bestial jubilance that made his blood burn with fury.

[Zenteer]

Dagger darted through the crowd, scattering citizens and created a temporary path through the thick throng of drunks. Arorn pushed and shoved his way through the mob, attempting to follow Dagger before any harm befells him, or he befells harm on others.

An unruly crowd of drunken Nords were stampeding toward the sounds of clashing blades, while others were stampeding in the opposite direction. This effectively caused a mad whirlpool of people running amok. Arorn eventually manage to propel himself through the dense crowds and toward the front of the fight, where Dagger stood poised growling at a strange pale man. Arorn was about to stop him, when he realized something was amiss about him. Arorn squinted at him, confused, there was just something wrong….something off. After a couple seconds the realization struck him like a lightning bolt. He was a vampire! Red eyes, pale skin, also add in the fact that Dagger doesn’t awfully like him. Arorn quickly surveyed the scene, his other crewmates were under attack by what seem to be servants of the Vampire. Gods, what were they called? Talls? Thralls! A few of his crewmates had manage to reasonably defeat some of his servants….er….Thralls. Arorn felt the urge to retreat and let his crewmembers handle the issue, but a second thought hit him. If some of his companions were killed, the the voyage might be called off due to lack of strength. Arorn sighd. “Ah, what the hell”
Arorn racked his brains on Vampires, attempting to remember weakness. One came to mind, fire. Arorn wasn’t espiecially skilled at fire magic, but he was skilled at Shock magic. That was close enough to fire wasn’t it? “Dagger, get em boy!” Dagger growled menancingly at the Vampire and pounced at him, while Arorn readied his lightning bolt with both hand, feeling magicka course through his body and into his hands. Arorn felt the magicka pool into his hands, turning into pure lightning. Arorn waited until a clear shot, for fear of hitting Dagger

[StormyNyte]

Khinada glanced away from the vampire just in time to catch sight of a one eared Bosmer rushing toward her with a pair of glass daggers, ready to strike. Her ears flattened and she hissed as she jumped to the side, barely avoiding the blades as he lurched past. As he did, she brought her borrowed blade around toward the small of the thrall's back, but he whirled to face her with incredibe speed and deflected the blow, the keen edge of the glass daggers biting deeply into the steel. She had to end this quickly, otherwise she'd be rendered weaponless if she had to block him more than once or twice.

As his daggers sang with the impact, he lunged for her again. Instead of letting him drive her back, she met him head on. She would have much rather had two blades for this, but what she lacked in number, she made up for in strike distance. Before his blades could reach her, she swung again. She didn't block his strike, instead she brought her blade down to smash into one of his wrists. The razor edge easily bit through flesh and bone, sending the now severed hand tumbling past her as she caught his other arm by the wrist. Drawing her own blade back, she shouted a wordless battle cry as she thrust forward, burrying the sword into his chest so hard that it pierced through the studded armor at his back.

Twisting the blade to make sure that the damage was a deadly blow, she wrenched the blade free of the thrall's shuddering body with the aid of a well aimed boot to the stomach and advanced on him when he fell. His head barely hit the cobblestones before it was lopped off and set to rolling. With a quick surveying glance to the rest of the combatants, she moved to collect her fallen adversary's glass blades and readied herself to aid any of her comrads still in the midst of their own personal battles.

[SikstaSlathalin]

*Brunwulf*

The old vetaren was barely aware of how the others were fairing against their opponents. All he saw and knew was that this Breton may be using the weapons of the Forsworn but his fight style was that of a trained soldier. His attacks were precise and controlled and his defense was solid, Later Brunwulf would admit it surprised him enough to almost throw him off his game...almost.

After the initial surprise the Nord remembered his own training and met the other man blow for blow. The crude savage axe held it's own against the superior steel of Brunwulf's mace and even with his scaled armor protecting him he discovered a few shallow but jagged cuts along his arms. Thankfully though his attacks struck hoje leaving huge bruises and broken bones in it's wake.

He and the Breton dogged it back and forth until they actually stumbled back into the drunken crowd that had gathered around the little alley treating the whole battle like a show by the Actor's Guild or like a fight in the Imperial Arena placing bets and cheering for Brunwulf and the Storm Breaker crew. This was getting real close to dangerous and the last thing any of them needed was killing a bystander by mistake. He had to end this now, switching his hands he caught the Thralls axe hand with his free hand he yanked the attacker side-ways past him and sweeped the Breton's leg making him fall on his face and lose the axe. Twisting the man's arms behind his back Brunwulf heard a quick pop telling him the arm was broken, with his opponent barely letting out a howl of pain the old man brought the mace full strength down on the back of his head caving it in splashing blood, bits of brain matter and shards of bone all around the point of impact. Now for the first time in many minutes he looked around him everyone else had beaten and killed their opponent all that remained were Miri and the Vampire.

[Raindrop]

Mirida and Fefheir stood face to face as havoc broke lose around them, yet it was as if it wasn't there, they faced each other with stone cold stares and Mirida felt her legs moving as she raised her skyforged steel sword into the night which gave ever light it caught a weak reflection into the alley. No more words needed to be wasted on this traitor of Thalos, yet she took a deep breath and let out a war cry which filled the alley with her sincere lust for bloodshed.

"By Thalos your souls will be cleansed tonight!" She yelled and in the same moment her sword clashed brutally into Fefheirs daggers, he was ready on it and Mirida though her will was forged to battle was to slow for him to even connect the kick she launched in succession of her blow, yet following it when she landed with her leg she pushed away forward to successfully tackle the vampire into the ground.
Fefheir hissed in aggression and forcefully pushed her back from him, sending her airborne and landing on her back about 6 feet away from where he currently was.

Halting his aggression Fefheir mercifully allowed her back up on her feet, "I see you carry the skills of your father with you, he was a true soldier. What a shame that had to fall during the civil war, for a pointless cause at that." he provokingly stated, "Pfft! You know nothing about being a true son of Skyrim do you!? It makes me sick to see your nord blood soiled with that of vampires, you were never one of us and you shall never be!!!", Mirida was struck with rage and felt her mind slipping as all she now aimed for was to see the assassin purged!

It was then Fefheir charged her head on, throwing kicks and slashed towards in his approached, like a dancer trying to deliver death, though Mirida was slowly pacing backwards and dodging to the best of her ability, she was trying to find an opening and it was not long in the sense of their battle until she found one which is where she jumped back and threw her sword with all her might, landing it straight into the vampires stomach. Mirida had just regained herself from the landing when Fefheir struck the ground, pierced by her blade.
Quickly Mirida dashed to kick Fefheir straight onto his crotch leaving a faint cracking sound in the combat zone. With that blow the vampire dropped his daggers in pain.

Mirida stared down onto him, the asshole whom ruined her normal life, "Tonight you die and may oblivion torture you in all eternity..." she stated, grabbing her sword twitching it in order to cause him more pain. "Feels good, doesn't it? To have a blade in your stomach like this... Doesn't it?" she carried on, withdrawing her sword out from the squirming vampire.

Turning her back on him she was deciding as to how she would kill him off, but quickly deciding to simply cut his head off, so turning around with a raised sword charged with all her might again and two hands on the handle she suddenly faced a suicidal thrall which took the lethal blow for its master, whom at the same time got picked up by two other thralls that quickly jumped up to the roof with him and disappeared on the other side of it. "NO!", Mirida yelled, unable to react in time to stop them and in around festivities like this, they were surely way to hard to find at this point. With this the remaining thralls was trying to escape as well.

In the midst of despair Mirida felt her own blood running down her arms, her chest and legs she was definitely not unscathed by Fefheirs aggressive attack earlier, in fact her own tries to dodge wasn't even close to perfect, but she had been numb towards the pain of every blow Fefheir had landed on her and her armor was severely damaged, but had it not been for it, she would have been dead already.

Still standing up she saw her own blood coloring the cobbled stone ground and her vision turning unfocused, "The, the bastard poisoned me...", Mirida said still standing but quickly feeling weaker.

[StormyNyte]

Khinada watched with narrowed eyes as Mirida faced off with the vampire. She watched unblinking as the first mate matched his strikes blow for blow. If it ever came to a fight, she would be someone to watch out for. Just when it looked like Mirida was about to finish him off, a thrall came out of nowhere and threw himself in front of her blade while others rushed to their master and ushered him away. It all happened so fast, there was little to no time to react.

Khinada snarled as they disappeared but once she looked back at Mirida the look went from angry to full of concern. The was battered and bloody, mumbling something about being poisoned. Spitting a curse at the damned fiend, she rushed over to the other woman, hurriedly fumbling in her satchel to withdraw one of the strong healing potions she had worked up earlier in the day. She had hoped to keep it for the journey, but Mirida desperately needed something immediately. Once at her side, the Khajiit unstoppered the vile and held it to her lips, placing her other clawed hand against the Nord's back to steady her as she did. "Mirida, you must drink this before you lose yourself to the darkness."

Turning her face to the others, she gave them wide eyes. "Khinada has nothing with her now to counteract poisons, but this will keep her awake long enough for us to get her to someone that can. We must hurry."

[Lord Tully]

Though still panting heavily from her fight and blood still running down her face, Shava ran back to the scene with Mirida and the Vampire fully intending to bury her sword in the monster's skull. She arrived a bit too late however, as she just barely caught sight of the vampire disappearing over a rooftop as Mirida collapsed, normally Shava would have tried to pursue the injured Vampire, but the ship's first mate held a slightly higher priority.

Rushing to the injured woman's side Shava heard Mirida say something about being poisoned, and though Khinada was at her side with some kind of potion, Shava knew Mirida needed help beyond what they could provide at this moment, "The Temple of the Divines is just this way, the priests there are skilled healers. Mirida I need you to stand." Shava said going to Mirida's side opposite Khinada, "Hold onto me, I will help you." she told the Nord as she placed Mirida's arm around her shoulders and tried to lift Mirida to her feet, if Mirida could still stand that was good, for Shava wasn't nearly strong enough to support the woman on her own. "Help me keep her steady, we need to move fast." Shava said to the others present.

"You are a daughter of Skyrim, you are not meant to die by some coward's poison." Shava told Mirida in a commanding voice hoping that maybe she could order the woman to stay alive.

[SikstaSlathalin]

*Aboard the Storm Breaker the day after the Mid-Year celebration*

What a night. Lord Winterblade thought tiredly as he awoke before sun-up preparing for his morning excercise. Dressing in just his leather pants he walked barefoot out onto the deck of the ship soon to make history. Too bad a Vampire attack on the First Mate had already cast a bad omen upon the voyage. He just hoped the blessing of the Nine Divines they were meant to recieve today would counter balance it. With a sigh the old Nord withdrew Firestorm from it's simple brown sheathe. Leaning the sheathe against the mast Allester began warming up his creaky muscles. The morning was somewhat chilly and despite his hardy Nord blood keeping him warm his old joints took these chances to remind what the life of a soldier and adventurer will get ya after all the treasure was sold and every luxury bought. Soon though his body caught up to his mind and stopped it's protesting at moving around nearly naked in the chill a of pre-dawn.

He started off with some basic streatches, bending slowly in every direction the mighty blade either held above his head or out in front of him as he moved. Going in a slow practiced pace he soon felt life swelling through his body and beagn. Taking a deep breath he took his usual battle stance, knees spaced out slightly wider than his shoulders blade held low tip just under his right knee. A deep breathe later he was swining in a vicious upward slash cutting an invisible foe in half before spinning on his left foot taking the knees out from under a foe gutsy enough to attack the lord from behind. As this enemy collapsed a third tried taking advantage of the warrior's focus and swipped at his head but Allester was rarely caught by surprise. Ducking low he thrust the tip of his blade through the phantom's stomach spilling his guts to the cold air.

Lord Winterblade continued his one man war on the invisible forces surging around him slewing each with skill and brutality. His body had done this battle so many times it could work without his Lordship's mind actively pulling the strings, this allowed him time to think as his body tore through wave after wave of enemy. What occupied the very front of the Captain's mind was Mirida's attack last night, he was glad the crew and Brunwulf had been near and sober enough to help the woman, but also furious at himself for not being there with them. A Captain's duty is to be eith his crew and help them to the best of his ability it was like he failed them all especially Miri, she had told him about her past before the voyage and it infuirated him so much he was ready to gather his best armor, weapons, and every one of his Housecarls and go hunt the man down. His First .Mate and family would have none of it, as capable as Lord Winterblade and his carls were the man was in deep with the Dark Brotherhood and even if he killed them in one place they'd pop up elswhere and exact thier gruesome version of revenge on the Lord and everyone close to him. So he bit back his outrage and let the crime go only alerting the guards to be on the look-out.

His mind was so lost he had fairly ignored the voice calling done from the rigging, eventually though he felt a small leather ball hit him in the hand leaving enough of a sting to snap him back to the now, he truely needed to work on cutting back his trips down memory lane. Slowing his attacks he looked up to the rigging and into the coy shining face of Ana who had been on the early morning watch. She was young and pretty chestnut colored hair cut short to just at her neckline. He skin was lightly tanned and sported an amusing array of freckle giving her a very down-to-earth apperance. She was dressed in a yellow cloth vest, a simple white skirt and dainty looking but sturdy leather boots. In her right hand was a heavy sling loaded with what was called a Rabbit ball, it was a completly leather ball used to kill small game like rabbits and foxes not made of rabbit as the name might imply. It was deadly to these small animals but just an annoyance to most large animal and people.

Once the Lord had focused on her she smirked as he handed her back the shot rubbing his smarting hand.
"I take it, you numbed my hand for a reason lassie?" He asked smiling a little bit replacing Firestorm to it's home."
Ana's voice was light and cheery as her eyes roamed over the man's stil impressive frame.
"Just informing his lordship that I'll be taking the morning watch for the remainder of the voyage." Captain Winterblade crossed his arms over his glistenning chest and laughed hartily, he had been warned of Ana Chillwind's charm and tendicy to flirt with anyone even in jest. Allester saw wwhat the young Nordmaid was doing and decided to play along this time.
"And why might that be Ms. Chillwind?" The woman smirked more winking rather obertly at the man.
"So I can eatch his Lordship show off his body sculpted by the Gods." This warrented an ever deeper laugh from Allester as he looked down at his hairy and greatly scarred torso.
"I have a feeling your eyes are weary from being up so early. I take it all's clear and quiet this fine morning?"
Ana nodded tossing the older Nord a quick salute.
"Aye, aye sir, aside from some stray dogs sniffing around the crates on the warf. Tis nary a living thing in sight." He returned the salute and nodded back to the crew's quarters.
"I think it about time you get some rest. Go nudge Viera and have her beginher shift, make sure she's dressed and armed with her bow this time. As much fun as it would be to see how our mercs react to an Imperial woman stumbling onto deck in her birthday suit carrying one of her boots as a weapon. I'd like to look professional for anyone coming to the docks." Ana surpressed a giggle and threw another quick salute to her Captain before dropping the leather ball into one of the pouches on her belt and turning off towards the woman's quarters.

Alllester watched her go wondering if Ari eould grow up like that. All full of fire and flirty, he could see it happening. Ari had just turned 15 this year and it was already obvious which parent she took after. She had the itch of the road on her feet much like Allester did, only differance is he allowed her to go out and explore with his Housecarl Calder escorting her of course. The man loved the little "Spitfire" (as Ari was called around Windhelm) like his own daughter so she was in good hands everytime they went out. Ay Ari would make a fine warrior someday, he was just glad Sonja took after her mother Heidi and was as gentle as a spring shower and soft-spoken as a dove. He watched a half asleep Viera stumble onto deck trying despertly to wake up. Her hunting bow and quiver of steel arrows dragging behind her, her long brown hair was done up in a messy buj and her leather armor was a tad bit eskew. He chuckled softly and slipped into the galley liberating a mug of hot tea from the serving tray Jolly was hard at work making breakfast singing a happy song off-key to himself. But it always made Allester smile seeing the usually glum Breton doing what he loves and getting joy from it. Addingbsome sugar to the tea he slipped back out to the dozy woman who had just reached the ladder to the crow's nest.
"Hold.on lass, I won't be having you falling from the mast drink this first and get youself all fixed up." Viera let out a deep yawn and took the tea nodding he thanks to him sitting down on a barrel she took a few minutes to fully awake and get herself presentable.
"Thank you m'lord, that'll show me stayingnup all night listening to the Bards." She handed him the cup back and nimbly scaaled the ladder popping up into the nest slinging her bow across her back watching the sun climb over the high walls of Solitude. The Captain dlipped the cup back into the galley remaining totally unnoticed by the oblivious Jolly.

[Jacogos]

It was still early when Daimus awoke from his slumber, the Dark Elf stretching with a groan even before he managed to get onto his feet. Perhaps joining the others in the quarters wouldn't be so horrible... The pile he had made for himself in the 'smithy' would murder his back and sides before they managed to sail more than a few days. And, Azura protect him, this trip would take far, far more than just a few days.

I can at least keep my stuff in here... Though sleeping in the quarters would leave anything I own laughably unguarded... Perhaps I could tinker with the locks a bit... Even that Khajiit, innocent as she may be, would have trouble with a lock I made. That was the ticket. Smiling in spite of himself, Daimus rose and began checking his supplies and assets one last time.

Once done, the Dunmer exited his room, peering about the hallway cautiously. He had heard what went on last night while he was aboard the ship; Miri attacked by a Vampire and the rest of the crew leaping to her aid in the dark alleyways of Solitude.

Dark Brotherhood... Pah. If a Vampire couldn't even manage to kill her, then either Mirida has gotten better or they're as terrible as I've been told. Though perhaps Inera isn't the best source of information on them... Daimus shook his head with a sigh. At that moment, his eyes fell on the Captain, who appeared to be exiting the galley. The thought of food brought a quiet grumble from the Dunmer's stomach.

"Mornin', Captain," Daimus said, forgoing a salute. He was hardly military and it would take quite the drilling to get him to even think of offering such an expression to someone. "We should be heading out today, shouldn't we? Long voyage ahead of us and all..."

[Imperial1917]

Isus drew in a breath of the chilled early-morning harbor air slowly, savoring it. He felt it travel into his body through his nostrils, down his trachea, and into his lungs. From there, or he might imagine it to be so, he could feel the cold spread down his body to every tip, bringing it alive with tingling before settling down as the warmth of his body drove it out again. He repeated this several times, feeling the act almost wash away the stresses of his form.

He sat on a seemingly forgotten crate with his back to a wall, not far from the entrance to the men's quarters of the ship. He had been there for some time, perhaps long before the others had even stirred. Not that it was surprising. It seemed to him that he was the only one who had not partook in drink the night prior and had gotten a decent night's sleep, if still craving a proper meal. Those aboard not yet awake were likely drunk in one fashion or another.

The captain, surprisingly, was one of those among the conscious. Isus had took him for a man fond of the comforts of life when he could afford them. Certainly last night was one of those nights. Yet here he was on the deck, practicing with his blade. Isus watched him for a time. He bore his greatsword with precision and strength, guiding it back and forth through the dull mists of the morning as he battled imagined foes.

He was obviously skilled, yet something bothered Isus about his form. Isus was no expert in two-handed weapons, in spite of carrying a spear, but something was off about his movements. There was some certain disturbance among them. Isus was quite certain he knew what was bothering him. The captain worked methodically as he practiced and that was the problem. Such discipline was never credited to the Stormcloaks; it belonged only to the Legion. Isus knew his disquiet was due to the clear proof that the captain had forsaken an oath he once took.

Isus knew that he shouldn't be surprised. Many Stormcloaks, notably the vaulted High King on who's order this expedition was charted, were formerly Legion soldiers. Some claimed disgruntlement with how they were treated in the Legion. Others claimed that they wanted to fight to preserve the sacred name of Talos. Still more said that it was the fact that the Empire had bowed to mer that they could not tolerate. Whatever their reasons, they were many and being on a Stormcloak vessel inevitably meant meeting them.

The knowledge did little to bring Isus peace of mind.

Looking down, Isus pushed the matter from this mind and inspected what was before him. He had laid out much of his armor on the deck and was polishing it. That was the reason he had come up here so early. He had no wish to wait until later to do the needed task and it hardly needed doing in front of the others. That and he didn't quite trust them enough to be without his armor in their presence. Not yet.

That he was almost done attested to the hour he had risen. What pieces he had finished he already wore, which admittedly must have made him look quite strange at times. Those pieces now would be bright if not shine in the coming daylight. All that remained was Wraithguard and his Imperial Templar Gauntlet. The sword he bore was already done.

Taking the ancient gauntlet into his hands, Isus began to move the polishing rag over its surface, giving gloss to the cleaned surface. It was an item that Isus took great pride in, whatever its origin. The design was old, most likely older than anything else aboard this vessel. It was probably also more powerful than many of the things on this vessel. Within its durable frame was power of a long-lost era that few remembered. An era when mortal creatures transcended their creation and became something else entirely.

Or that is what Father Matanus could tell him, at least. As Isus methodically took the fingers of the piece with his rag and polished them, he reviewed what he truly knew of the item. It really amounted to nothing. It was, for him, an ancient, powerful gauntlet. Where it came from, what its real purpose was, and who made it remained unknown to him. Father Matanus had confessed to Isus that there was almost nothing in the records of Ebonheart about it. He had told Isus that the item had some significant religious meaning for some of the scattered Dunmer of Morrowind, strange nomads known as Ashlanders. Or so the records claimed. Isus had never met any of them in his extensive travels throughout Morrowind. Father Matanus also revealed another curiosity: the records indicated that the man who was the last known owner of the gauntlet was the same mysterious man who aided the Legion and retrieved the Lord's Mail. It made Isus wonder whether the corpse he found Wraithguard on was in fact the same man. Probably not.

Finished, Isus slipped on the piece, sealing it in place. Unlike the Imperial Templar Gauntlet that he wore on his left arm, Wraithguard extended far enough up his right that no additional cloth was needed. He added it anyways to keep warm. The ancient armor seemed to glow and hum with energy.

Turning his attention to the other gauntlet, he picked it up and started polishing. It was a significantly smaller piece than Wraithguard, lacking both the coverage up the arm and the inbuilt glove for the hand. Still, it was made of some of the stoutest and most reliable metal that Isus had ever used. He moved the rag in and out of it quickly, polishing the surface with ease. The lesser coverage meant that he didn't have as much to polish. It was soon done and he fitted the piece on.

Satisfied that his work was done, Isus packed the polishing kit and rose to his feet. Glancing across the deck, he noted that the captain had ceased his practice. The man stood exchanging words with a rather groggy-looking woman. She soon was off and he was approached by another figure. It was the Dunmer smith. He was undoubtedly going to try and swindle the captain of more money to fund his mobile forge.

As the two began their conversation, Isus thought more of the crew he found himself with. He had gone to rest in an empty room and woke up surrounded by strangers. Here, there was that Bosmer he had seen the other day. It was a miracle that his throat had not been slit in such company. Then again, the blade might more likely have come from the Altmer. His slippery kind would probably have known that summoning so close to Isus would have waked him and ensured a speedy death. The hulking Nord was the least likely to slit his throat. He was more likely to try and crush in Isus' ribs right through is armor. Precious little subtlety was probably to be expected from that one. Isus did note that he slept on the spot with the disturbed pillow.

The only thing to be thankful for was that the Dunmer had apparently opted to bunk in the 'smithy', where he would, if fortune held, be crushed by one of his own forging implements when they inevitably broke loose in rough seas.

Sighing, Isus made his way towards the captain.

[Lord Tully]

Shava woke up extraordinarily sore, she had received a broken nose during the previous night's altercation, which was a somewhat different injury for Argonians, but nothing else aside from a heavily bruised belly. Once Mirida was safe, Shava had spent much of the night ensuring that her own injury was not severe. She had a dulled sense of smell that would last a few days and a ruddy great bruise over the center of her face but besides that Shava eventually determined that she would be fine. But fine or not Shava still hurt, but not enough to keep her in bed, while she'd slept well after such exertion and a few celebratory drinks, Shava had only managed a few hours before her soldier's brain forced her awake right a dawn.

Shava had slept in her leather armor which let her quite stiff, so to help loosen her muscles the Argonian changed into plain clothing. Shava had always been one for practicality, a trait the limited storage space she was given exacerbated, aside from her armor, her swords and a reasonable bit of gold, Shava had only brought two sets of clothing, two shirts and two pairs of pants made of simple tan cloth. That left room for a good deal in her trunk which she intended to fill with all manner of treasures and possessions she would surely find along the way. Once dressed Shava ensured that her armor and all her weapons were stowed safely away in her locked trunk, Shava shuffled out onto the deck, a combination of her pain and weariness slowing her this morning. As she left she passed the Nord woman Ana on her way in from watch, "What in Oblivion are you so cheery about?" she asked in a somewhat grumpy voice, even on her best days Shava had no idea how some people summoned so much energy this early in the morning.

As she came out on the deck Shava was just in time to hear another one of her crew mates, Viera she thought was the name, say something about staying up all night with the bards, to which she could only shake her head. "I wish I had that excuse." Shava said though she wasn't sure and didn't really care if anyone could hear her. Trying to brighten her mood, Shava walked over to the railing and breathed deep, savoring the cold salty scent, if they were not on such a tight schedule this morning Shava might have even leapt off the side to take a swim around the harbor, cold salt water did wonders for ones gills. "Good morning sir." she said when she heard someone else address the Captain and turning so she could lean backwards against the railing, seems there would be no swimming this morning, "Not exactly the best omen to start a voyage on eh?" She then nodded towards the Dunmer, "Damius." she addressed him in a polite neutral tone, she still hadn't seen enough of him to like or dislike him, so neutral courtesy was all she gave him for now.

[StormyNyte]

Below deck, Khinada stirred begrudgingly as one eye slowly slid open. Some of the crew were already awake and about their business and, at the moment, their footsteps hit her sensitive ears like a booming herd of elephants. With a groan, she pushed herself up to sit on the side of her bunk and hold her head for a moment. Her muscles were ached and there was an all too familiar pain assaulting her brain. It was apparent that she had celebrated a little too much the night before.

Mumbling, she withdrew the bottle of mead within her sea chest and took a long, slow pull. It seemed almost comical for a Khajiiit to partake in a little “hair of the dog that bit her last night,” but she didn’t care. Stoppering the bottle to save what was left, she returned it and stood; grimacing at the soreness in her legs and lower back. This bunk would definitely take some getting use to. She felt positively haggard as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

She had managed to extract herself from her armor and pile it haphazardly by her bed at some point last night, but she couldn’t quite recall when. Wearing a simple wool tunic and brown britches, she set to collecting her strewn belongings and placing them inside the chest, not even bothering to put on her boots. She preferred to feel of the surfaces she walked on anyway, besides it was silly to think someone would be bold enough to attack them on the boat before they left the harbor.

After stretching her complaining limbs she eventually made her way up on deck, squinting as the bright morning sun assaulted her eyes. With a grumpy growl, she stepped fully into its golden light and looked around. She spied Daimus talking with the Captain and two of the female crew she hadn’t met already happily going about their business. As her gaze drifted, she caught sight of an Imperial of all races, gleaming from head to toe in highly polished armor so much that she had to blink and give him a sidelong glance to shield her eyes. Indeed, he was a curious sight, but there was an air of arrogance about the way he moved. It wouldn’t surprise her at all if he fancied himself better than the whole lot on this ship. If that be the case, it would be a very long and very interesting voyage indeed.

Her snarling stomach eventually commanded her to head for the galley, but as she started off she noticed Shava leaning against the railing, looking out at the shimmering ocean ripples. Of all the others on the ship, she felt most at ease when trying to befriend other beastfolk, it was her experience that they seemed much less likely to pass judgment upon first meeting. Pushing aside her desire for breakfast at the moment, she made her way over to the Argonian and leaned against the railing beside her a few feet away. “Crazy night, yes? How is the nose, friend?”

[Raindrop]

Sore, bound in bandages, yet strong to the naked eye Mirida slowly opened her eyes, she was back on the Storm Breaker one of a couple of medical beds. Jolly had already assumed her awakening it seemed as a hot brew stood by the bed side. From above the floor gnarled and squeaked as the captain and possibly another person was up doing his/their morning routine, whichever it was it soon stopped and Mirida could hear her captain talk for a while as well as some other early birds feeling frisky enough to go about their business.

At that moment Jolly knocked on a supportive pillar behind the sheet covering her bed, "M'am, I got some warm bacon and a little bread for you, mind if I step in?", Jolly must have noticed Mirida moving about or something, but that man though looking like a thug, was always kind and somewhat of a fresh wind from time to time. "No, please enter, I am starving Jolly." Mirida replied pulling herself up to sit in the bed with her sheet above her chest. Leaving the delicious breakfast by Mirida's bed table the chef hurried away to attend to whatever business he had.

Alone, Mirida never minded her manners and she eat the wooden bowl clean of bacon and bread, as well as finishing the warm brew. It soothed her to feel warm and by her breakfast.
In a couple of hours Mirida aimed to be prepared enough to face the crew and round about orders, as showing weakness was not her style, any orders of rest would have to be postponed. On another note, she had to make sure Daimus could repair her irreplaceable armor, she could not have herself look like a trashed First Mate, such things tended to lower any weaklings morale and she would not have her own crew think less of her then the best there is next to Lord Winterblade, that, that was a promise she held to herself.

[Rayne7]

Graesin had awoken from his bunk with an alertness known only by those who had spent years being hunted. The first senses that came to life were those of hearing and smell, as he heard others move about and smelled their various scents even as his mind went down a checklist that informed him of any immediate threats or dangers; if there were any, he would take a course of action but otherwise he allowed himself to get up cautiously. The entire process took a mere two to three seconds while his breathing remained unchanged from his sleep pattern, giving the visage of him still being unaware. Of course, that morning there was nothing for him to be worried about, and so he had gotten up as usual.

Now he stood above ship, noting all of those who had clambered up from their rest to prepare for the day ahead. The imperial polished his armor with a proficiency seen only in soldiers and assassins, even as the captain had moved through his exercise before talking to a young woman. The Argonian and Khajit spoke off to the side, and the Dunmer spoke to the Captain after the young woman left from him.

Deciding that he needed to get something to eat, he found the chef and got himself a piece of bread and couple pieces of bacon, eating quickly. Then he went back above deck to help the crew as they prepared for the day ahead.

[SikstaSlathalin]

*Swims-Swifter*

The cold salt water brought life and energy to the other Argonian crewman. He never passes up the chance to swim unless his duties or unfavorable weather stopped him. His family were champion fisherman and during time of war they were underwater sabertours and assassins. So needless to say Swims had water in his veins today he was just going for a short swim to the little island in the middle of the harbour, he had a friend that liked to use the island as a base for his own fishing business. Just before the Captain would've been doing his morning excercise the Argonian walked onto the stony beach shaking the chilly water from his scales he was just wearing a pair of cloth shorts that he had to uncling from his muscular legs. The mists were heavier this far onto the bay but soon Swims saw the merry glow of a cooking fire and the smell of freshly cooked fish swagged into his nose.
"Marks, haven't drowned yet I see." He heard a gravely laugh and a gray-scaled Argonian with two cloudy eyes walked from the mist using a carved cane to find his way.
"I may be blind swamp breath but my gills still work just fine. Come I have your favorite kind of fish roasting on a spit." Swims laughed gently and gripped his friend's arm in greeting.
"Ah nothing beats fresh salmon after a morning swim. I can't stay too long today though friend. The voyage I've joined with the Stormcloak Captain is leaving as soon as the Priests get up off thier knees to come bless us." He sat in his usual spot upon a stump next to the fire. Marks-with-Claw nodded feeling his way back to his camp chair spinning the spit slowly.
"Ah the much talked about Voyage of the Storm Breaker. You know bets are being placed what will kill you all first. The sea, the Thalmor, pirates,or a shipwreck. I put my money on pirates." He chuckled his dead eyes glinting in the firelight. Swims nodded pulling the salmon from the flame biting into the great fat fish.
"I've half a mind to put my own money on the crew killing each other."
Marks face qurked up in a smirk for half a second before returning to a neutral pose pulling his own fish out of the fire.
"Oh? Why's that if I may ask?"
"A more untrusting group I've yet to encounter outside of the Thalmor themselves. Every civilised race in Tamriel is present even an Imperial Templar with all the pomp and self-righteousness his people are known for. I'd put him well before the Khajiit in terms of treachery. I expect a spear through my stomach before the month's out."
"What of Lord Winterblade, spearing doesn't seem like something he'd allow aboard his ship." The gray Argonian said munching on his meal.
Swims shook his head eating the fish's head.
"He won't, the good Captain is the most honourable man who I've had the pleasure of serving under. But even he can't watch us all the time." He tossed the bones into the fire burping softly. "Well thank you again Marky, but I gotta head back before I'm too missed. Hist be with you." He stood streatching slowly turning back to the water.
"Hist be with you." Was all Marks-with-Claw said as he expertly popped the fish's eyes out with a thin but wicked looking black blade. Diving back into the water Swim quickly made his way back to the ship.


* Aboard the Storm Breaker*

It seems Allester wasn't the only early riser aboard the ship, this is a good thing. First was Daimus who seems to have slept in his forge room last night. "Ay Daimus, I plan to have us underway as soon as the nine Priests come bless our voyage. Mightn't even see his royal Majesty if his other plans don't intefer. If he doesn't show up he's givin us his blessing and a custom made flag as parting gifts." He smiled nodding up to the main mast where two flags were fluttering in the gentle wind. The top flag was the High King's present, the royal colors of the Stormcloaks, a snarling bear's head done in silver fabric on a background of the deepest blue, above the bear's head was an intricate rendition of the Jagged Crown in gold. Below that was Lord Winterblade's coat of arms, the background was white and in the center was a beautifully made snowflake in an icy blue and crossed behind it was a pair of navy colored greatswords. He heard Isus's heavy boots approching, but Shava spoke next greeting the Captain commenting on the night before.
"Indeed not but I'm sure once we get underway the Gods will smile upon our noble endevor. Graesin slipped above deck long enough to grab some food before going back to watching everyone and lastly Khinada showed her face moving to chat with Shava.

He was about to excuse him to get cleaned up and dressed when he heard the rope ladder clatter against the side of the ship besides Shava and Khinada. Slinging his sword over his shoulder he went to investigate, but before he got close Swims-Swifter popped nimbly over the railing landing softly before shaking water off his body not noticing the two women he just sprayed until after the fact.
"Oh my apoligies, didn't see you there." He told the Khajiit who probably wouldn't much like cold water so early in the morning. He was about to say the same thing to the other person but when he saw who it was, the fierce looking but beautifu Argonianmaid he saw yesterday he simply smiled tapping his head large curling horn with a claw.
"You should join me tomorrow the water is quite invigorating." He winked at the woman walking up to Captain Winterblade saluting.
"Good morning Captain shall I rose the rest of the sailors to eat before we begin preparing the vessel for voyage?"
Allester saluted back. "Indeed Swims, all but Ana she just got off morning watch, I'll have Jolly put some aside for her." The Argonian nooded stealing one last look at Shava before dissapearing to the crew's quarters side-stepping Isus who he nearly crashed into glaring slightly. The glare wasn't lost on Allester he'd talk with Swims about it later assuming the Imperial didn't try it first in which case in which case he'd speak with them both.
He let out a sigh. "The Sailors will eat first, then the rest of you can join me for breakfast."

[Jacogos]

Daimus nodded acknowledgement of the Captain's words, not saying much as his mind processed the new information. Great, Divines Priests on top of a royal send-off... I suppose getting a blessing from Zenithar wouldn't be too terrible... Shaking his head at the necessity of it, Daimus returned the she-Argonian's greeting and turned to leave, making his way out of the area before the Imperial's self-importance turned the air to jelly.

Blasted Cyrodilic swine... Of all the men that would join up... the Dunmer thought acidly, barely managing to keep a sneer off his face before he disappeared below decks again. Hunger drew him towards the galley. Or, it would have, had he not caught the Captain's last few words. And I'll bet my shiniest sovereign that he wants all of us to play nice and attend, regardless of personal desires... Sighing heavily, Daimus decided to find something else to occupy his time.

After a mental flip of the coin, he decided to check up on Mirida, moving slowly into the depths of the ship. Not that it was a massively sized ship, mind you, but it was large enough to take a little time getting from one point to another. Knocking lightly at her door, the Dunmer spoke up before entering.

"Oy, Miri, you up yet?" he asked, pausing for a moment.

[Imperial1917]

As Isus drew closer to the captain, an odd group gathered to the man. Isus presumed them to be the ship's new complement of mercenaries, which his mood soured to as he recalled that he was among their number now. Some of them exchanged pleasantries and acknowledgements before the captain started speaking. Isus only caught the last bit. The statement seemed rather odd as Isus spotted a mer who certainly didn't look like a sailor already eating beyond. Strange that a Stormcloak would allow a mer to eat before men. He could already smell troubling brewing of it and he wouldn't be the one to start it.

An Argonian had crawled up the side of the ship to greet the captain. Though Isus didn't hear his words, it sounded like he was familiar with the man. Closer inspection suggested that it was in fact the same one that Isus had glared down the day before, but then, they all looked alike. How could a man expect to recognize them? After the exchange with the captain and those gathered around him, he turned to leave and almost walked right smack into Isus. He glared at Isus as he passed, as if the close call was the Imperial's fault and not his own clumsy self. Isus was unbowed and returned the gaze as he had the day before. Isus let him pass without comment though he did have to fight down the urge to filet the lizard then and there.

If the ship was in short supply of anything, potential rivals and enemies was not one of them, as Isus soon discovered. The Dunmer, having heard the captain's words, turned to depart quickly. Likely he meant to escape before Isus could point out his scam and get him thrown overboard with the smithing equipment tied to him as weights to take him to the seabed. Isus contemplated suggesting it to the captain for a moment before dismissing it. The man likely would just have the Dunmer skinned alive, which would do. The man glared at Isus as if he could read his thoughts on a public forum before he completely passed. Isus did not look away and noticed that the man entered the woman's quarters. The captain said nothing about this and Isus assumed that it was fine. He made it in without contest.

Finally turning back to the captain, he found that the audience was still not private. There remained a Khajiit woman and an Argonian woman. No matter. He was not going to discuss something that needed it.

"The Nines Blessings upon you this morning, Captain." he said.

[Raindrop]

Finishing her meal awhile ago someone came up knocking on her entry, it was a very familiar voice, "Daimus? Please, step inside." Mirida replied making her gaze towards the curtains, the small candle lamp that was beside her lit well enough the confined space that was her medical bed.

"What is brings me the pleasure of seeing a friendly face such as yours this morning?" Mirida asked, raising her chin just lightly to look as proper as possible before Daimus. Still of course sitting in her bed in the same way she had when Jolly had stepped in with breakfast earlier. Making a small gesture towards a small wooden stool for him to take a seat on.

((Sorry for the short post))

[Lord Tully]

"It's not bleeding anymore and it no longer hurts to breath, it'll be ugly a few days a week at most, but once it's all healed it'll be like nothing happened unless I get whacked again and knock it crooked." Shava said in answer to Khinada's question, "All in all not too bad, the way that elf swung at me I'm lucky nothing got chopped off." she said with a smirk, it had been a long time since she'd had just a good fight, she was just furious at the timing of it, she got to enjoy so little of last night's festival. "What of you? Take any good hits?" She asked.

Shava was about to suggest that they move to the galley for some food when an Argonian man, another crewmate she had yet to fully dedicate to memory, hopped onto the deck and seemed to bring half the harbor with him. After shaking himself off and leaving Shava uncomfortably dampened, the man had the sheer gall to flirt with her, she couldn't tell if he was stupid of crazy. "Perhaps I will, a man so inattentive as to miss us clearly needs to be supervised in water this dangerous." she shot back gesturing to the utterly calm harbor, it was more a test then a sincere insult, she needed to know how thick his skin was before anything else.

When she was sure the Argonian man was out of earshot Shava gestured towards the door to the below decks and looked to Khinada, "Forget the fool after last night food will do us both good." she suggested before a light went off in her head, "Ohh and I don't think you ever returned my sword last night. Get it back to me when you have the chance would you friend?"

[StormWolf]

The violence of the night passed was nothing to what lurked in the darkness of slumber for Starkad. The tinning of metal against metal, the howling of man and beast alike, and the irony taste of blood. All came surging back whenever the Nord closed his eyes, never giving him the bliss of a restful sleep. Never to experience a night without facing the demons of his past. The tormentor within his mind was always waiting there, taunting him with its burning eyes, scalding his very soul worse than all the fires of Oblivion. Laying his head to rest was a greater hell than most would experience or imagine.

The rocking of the ship did Starkad no favors either, nor the smell of the ocean, or the cold bite of the moist air. Eventually, just as it happened at every night, a hoarse roar upon bloody breath ripped Starkad from the womb of nightmares and thrust him into the churning world of the living. Rising with a sharp gasp of the cold air, Starkad's eyes flew wide open, every fiber tensing, ridges of muscle and vein pressing agains his glistening skin. Quick as a blink, Starkad's hand flew to the haft of his axe, where it sat by his bed. Pupils dilated from adrenaline, instantly adjusted to the muted light of the galley. No dangers about. No Imperials, no monsters but the ones that lurked in Starkad's dreams, and they were fading back into unconsciousness with the raking of claws against the inside of his skull.

Rising from his bunk, the hulking Nord rolled his massive shoulders and golden-maned head. The resounding cracks and pops that followed sent a shiver down Starkad's spine. Unlike Lord Winterblade, Starkad did not run himself through morning practices or rituals of fighting phantoms. Phantoms of the mind were a terrible foe, just enough skill to match the one training, but just incompetent enough to be defeated by him. Further than that, steel was a sacred metal, more precious than people credit it for. More than gold or silver or all the gems in Cyrodil. Steel was the metal of Talos, of Ysgramor, and of every soldier, bandit, saint, and sinner. Starkad knew the riddle of steel, the nature that lies within the heart and soul of the metal, and it is because of that Starkad would only ever draw steel if he intends to bloody it. If there was not something worthy of killing, drawing steel was an insult to the metal and everything it stood for.

Whilst those thoughts lingered, Starkad dressed himself in his leather breeches and fur-lined gambison, slipping on his heavy boots and strapping his weapons across his body. When the Ice Wolf emerged from the galley of the Storm Breaker, he appeared as an avatar of war, even dressed casually. He had eaten his fill the night before, and likely the fill of a couple other men, but it was the nature of his dreams that stunted Starkad's appetite. The mere thought of food was like ash to the man. He would content himself with his vigil, and perhaps that would settle his stomach. Still so close to Skyrim's shore, Starkad was not expecting much more than the morning mist and the horizon.

[SikstaSlathalin]

Allester heard Swims jostling the rest of the sailors into alertness, most simply grumbled rolling out of their bunks and dressing but it sounded like two put up more of a fight but a flipped matress later they too were up and moving. A few seconds passed and the sounds of boots were heard coming up the steps. Everyone except Ana, Viera, and Jolly formed a line for inspection. This was the standard for those hired through the Sailor's Guild, the Harbor Master of each port in Tamriel set their own rules and guideline as long as they didn't break the rules set down by the Guild as a whole. And Commodore Soly was a very button-up woman according to Miri, she loved discipline and put a lot of stress on proffesionalism, daily inspection was something she always practiced.

Lining up from the most junior to most senior Winterblade inspected everyone from Pyke to Lars. The men were meant to be dressed in boots, long pants and a shirt or vest, hair must be cut short or completly gone, and any facial was supposed to be clean and couldn't be down to his chest. Women could be in a knee-length skirt or pants and like the men they needed a fitting vest or shirt on and boots, no make-up was allowed and their had to either be cut short or down to their shoulders and done up in a neat bun while on duty. They could carry weapons but no two-handed weapons and ranged weapons were prohibited unless the crew man was in the Crow's Nest, every weapon must be seecurely fastened but readily handy. All clothing and weapons must be clean and well taken care of unless circumstances wouldn't allow it. Aside from a few cases of mussed up shirts everyone passed the inspection and he waved them all off to the galley for breakfast. With a perfectly executed salute Lars led everyone to chow.

He watched them for a few seconds before their resident Warrior Priest approched and spoke as was his habit he took im the whole of the person before him, highly polished armor, weapons at the ready, body tensed like a Saber Cat ready to pounce on it's prey. All and all Allester would wager the man will never relax aboard a Stormcloak vessel with non-humans amongst the crew.
"Blessings upon you as well Templar Makarus, you look a man with something on his mimd that can't be discussed over the breakfast table. Follow me to my cabin and you can get any worries off your chest. I'd also reccomend getting that armor off your chest sometime other than sleeping. The sea gets hot and angry at time and heavy armor will only make it worse. Up to you though unless your life is in danger then I'll cut you out of it." He knew that would insult the proud young man but death cares not for status in life or pride and he'd be damned if he'd let someone die because they were too damn paranoid and proud to leave clunky armor stowed away during a heat wave or severe storm. He led the Templar to his cabin. It was a decent size but you couldn't tell just by looking, all along the walls her cabnets and naked stacks of books, scrolls, and maps. Before the voyage Lord Winterblade had dedicated himself to studying and gathering all materiels involving exploration, forigen customs, other races, and anything else that could be relevent to the voyage. He has commited most of it to memory but it is better to have the information and not need it than to need it and not have it.

Aside from the small forest of paper his personal effects were like the man that owned them practical and straight-forward. A nailed down mannican held his Steel Plate Armor and dwarven shield, beside the armor rack was a weapon rack that held his Dwarven sword and crossbow, the bolts were stacked neatly in a box under the rack. His personal trunk was at the foot of his bed that was in a cozy corner of his cabin under the window. His clothes were laid out meatly on his bed under a medium-sized painting of his wife and two daughters. Heidi and Sonja nearly looked like twins aside from the obvious age differance. At the time of this painting Sonja was ten and just starting to be trained as a Bard. She was dressed in a simple green dress with a purple ribbon tied around her waist. Her long brown flowed freely down her back another purple ribbon wrapped around her head keeping the hair out of her oval shaped face. His wife looked every inch a regal queen from old, dressed in a deep purple dress with white etchings of snow adorning it. Her hair was both longer and darker than Sonja's reaching to the bottom of her back. On top of her breathtaking beauty her eyes held the power of wisdom and knowledge that always amazed his lordship. His eyes fell on his youngest child and as always it made him smile. Ari was seven in this painting and eve that young she hated dresses and sitting still. She was in a yellow dress in the same style as Sonja's only a pink bow was around her waist done up in a big obnoxious bow, and her blazing red hair was focibly comb and made into a pair of pig tails.
The young lass had the most sullen look on her round little face, she outright refused to look at the painter and had her arms crossed over her chest. Her hands were bandaged from a recent fight were she split open a few of her knuckles, she was grounded for that but the boy never tried to throw mud at her again which made the lord happy dispite saying otherwise.

He closed the door behind Isus and moved besides his bed to change, he didn't know how the uptight Templar would react to a naked man before him so he stepped behind a screen to change.
"So what's on your mind, my good man." He asked wiping down his body with a damp cloth covered in soap.

[Imperial1917]

As the captain watch the sailors do their duties, so did Isus. He had seen the like before in Ebonheart. Such discipline was handed down from the ranks of the Empire, not the Stormcloaks. Mighty warriors they may be, they were not the rank and file that the soldiers of the Legion were. And Ebonheart was probably one of the last havens for the strictures of Empire-era sailing procedure.

When the captain spoke, it was with mixed messages. On one hand, he seemed to finally accept Isus' position. On the other, he seemed now to question his competence in the most basic things. Isus brushed the matter to the back of his mind. He replied firmly as he followed the captain to the man's quarters, "I assure you that will not be necessary, Captain. I am a son of Ebonheart, brought forth of his power and the blessing of his mistress, the sea. We of Ebonheart have cause to look wearily on the land below and the sky overhead of late, but of the sea we take to with full sail of our masts and prayers on our lips. She has not turned her favor from us yet." he paused for a moment, then added, "But we have also learned of the temper of those who can be scorned and prepare ourselves for it."

They then entered his lordship's cabin. Isus waited patiently for his eyes to adjust. He blinked. Just once. The scene that entered his eyes when they finally adjusted was one most unlike he expected of a Nord captain, especially a Stormcloak Nord captain. The walls were decked with books, scrolls, and other filaments of paper including maps. There was not a mead bottle in sight. Isus smoothed his face before the captain could notice though.

In retrospect, it was something that probably should have occurred to Isus. This voyage's purpose was, after all, to map all of Tamriel. A traitor he might be, the High King was a cunning traitor. He knew better than to send a ship half filled with illiterate barbarians and half filled with any number of non-humans to draw a map. The captain was obviously a learned man. Isus could respect that. It made him wonder how many of the others were as well.

Isus took in the literary works, then turned his mind to other matters. Here, the captain's personal chest. There, his armor and weapons. Isus noted that he had an unusual amount of Dwemer equipment. For a Nord, that was. The sword looked particularly powerful.

The captain moved behind a screen, apparently to change, though whether out of embarrassment or thinking that Isus could do without seeing his bare body, Isus knew not. It was then that Isus' eyes fell on the painting. It showed a beautiful woman and a pair of younger girls.

If all other parts of life were touched dramatically by magic, painting was probably the most magic-inert. As far as Isus knew, there was no magic that was ever wielded by mortals that could imbue a mortal with the aspects of an artist. Oh, there had been rumors of living paintings or brushes that never ran out of ink, but the art of actually painting was another matter entirely. One could not give the clarity to see what the finished product should be as they did to a smith or the focus that they gave to a fletcher. To paint was to create an image to capture something exactly or imagine something over which the bounds of reality held no sway, save over the paint. Or so Father Matanus had told him.

It was thus that painting remained an exact and irreplicable skill, such as even to dismay the tiny Painter's Guild. And an expensive one to employ. Looking at the quality of the painting, or rather just at the painting at all, Isus knew that the captain was obviously not just some Nord promoted to his position. He was a man of means. Whether that meant that he had paid the small fortune necessary to patron a painter from the Painter's Guild or he had somehow found the time and patience to paint, Isus did not know. He just knew that the average family would probably have to or be more inclined to put the coin to other matters. Commissioning works was the realm of those who wanted to preserve something so as to be as immortal as the Gods themselves. Places, battles, items of importance... or people.

The captain must think very much of his family to have had this done.

Isus' thoughts were interrupted by the captain speaking again, again with those mixed messages of respect and false coddling. In truth, Isus knew not what to say. He had since come to the conclusion that the captain would probably not appreciate a person, even a Templar, announcing the deceptions of people they clearly trusted better. And Isus was bound to serve for some time yet. He spun the idea of mentioning that most of the items in the cabin would probably cascade down and bury the good captain alive when the ship hit rough seas, but discarded it. He might mention it later if there was more time to discuss in a more relaxed setting. Here was his point to press the captain into more favorable waters. Instead, he happened upon something else. Something he just realized that he noticed with the crew. Checking his tone, temper, and words, he said,

"I would not suggest to impose upon you the quaint beliefs fostered by a life in Ebonheart, but I am quite sure that it is not good for a crew to wallow in murmured rumors and dark whispers. I have heard both from the crew err I rose this morning and snap to their duties they may, the crew still moves with the caution of a pack whose first wolf was mauled by a bear." Turning from the painting to the screen and the smell of soap water, he said, "You are clearly still limber, so I might ask the best suited to know what troubles them." After a moment, he added, "What troubles the crew troubles me, particularly as we have yet to even leave the port and have not received the blessings of the priests. Personal plights aside, it does not bode well for us to be shown what so closely borders disfavor of the Gods."

[StormyNyte]

Khinada nodded lightly at that. “The foe was stronger and faster than Khinada expected him to be. She has a few scrapes and bruises, but luckily she had more of a reach on her opponent with the lent sword.” She rotated the shoulder of her sword arm with a grimace, blocking the blows from the thrall’s daggers felt like a blocking a swung mace.

She was about to say something else when another Argonian, this one a male, climbed over the side and unceremoniously christened them both with a sudden spray of seawater. When the chilled spray hit, the Khajiit hissed her displeasure, shooting him a sour look as fine droplets dripped from the ends of her whiskers. It was still much too early in Khinada’s opinion for such shenanigans, but Shava’s quick witted remark to the scaly man made her laugh. “Perhaps you should hold his hand too so as he doesn’t get lost.”

Her stomach rumbled again, this time loud enough to not go unnoticed, bringing a slightly embarrassed look to her face. “Breakfast would be a most welcomed treat, indeed.” Pushing herself to stand, she smiled half-heartedly. “Khinada fears that your sword took some damage in the fight. If not for it, she would surely have ended up among the fallen. You must permit her have it repaired for you before its return; she can lend you hers for the time being if you wish. It was a father’s gift and it has served her well so far.”

Stepping away from the railing, she noticed the line of sailors already streaming toward the galley, catching sight too of Starkad as he stepped up on deck. “Let us make for the galley before all that remains is crumbs, this looks like a hungry lot.” With that said, she turned and headed that way herself, expecting that Shava would follow.

[SikstaSlathalin]

Captain Winterblade listened to Isus speak practically visualising the young man's eues as they roved around his cluttered cabin, no doubt he expected something different from a Nord, more weapons, empty bottles of alcohol, maybe piles of dirty clothes dotting the room. Allester sometime laughed at what his cabin must look like, more the dusty den of a bookworm Altmer than the residents of Nord warrior. Despite the many mistakes both the Legion and the Empire made in the course of Allester's life he could never bring himself to completly cut their influence from his life. The discipline, structure, and warrior training have been and will continue to be a key part in his life. He even uses Legion excercises to train his daughters, if the Empire hadn't allowed the Thalmor to ban Talos and practically hand the world over to them Allester might've actually been in General Tulios's war room or even in his position by now.

Only the Gods knew the answers to all the what- ifs in life and Iron Bear had enough going on in his life without trying to steal the Secrets of the Divines'. As the Imperial finished speaking the old man wrapped his heavy brown quilted jacket around his body and pulled his amulet of Talos out from under the shirt letting it hang proudly about his neck. The finishing touches of his outfit; his wedding band, a simple ring of gold with the ancient Nordic words of eternal love scrawling along it's surface, his boots, and Firestorm followed soon after. He quickly checked himself in the polished surface of his breastplate before turning to Isus and answering him.

"Ay, I agree it's a bad omen, the mate was attacked by a Vampire last night, luckily the other mercs and an old friend of mine fought him and his Thralls off before she was killed. Which despite the victory over the monster and the revelry of last night ony added to the stress of a crew made up of what seems like random and dangerous rabble yourself included if you don't mind my saying. And I even had fear that would be the case when I fought for his Royal Majesty to open this expedition to every walk of life. But I felt after so much hatred and death Tamriel could use such an ambitious idea as this, plus it's always a good idea to have ambassadors aboard when you travel. No crew thrown together will be one-hundred percent trusting of each other at first but givin enough time and hardship, I feel even mistrust and hatred bred into someone from childhood can be softened." Allester's eyes focused a little more on the young man not threatening but measuring.
"Which brings me to this, I have seen how you look at the non-humans aboard as I have seen how some of them look at you. I cannot stop any of you from thinking what you think, but what I can do is give you all a warning and a reminder and I will personally do this with everyone, you signed a contract that promised racism and predjudice would not be cast down upon anyone in the crew. If you feel like it is happening you come tell either myself, First Mate Ishart, or Quartermaster Morvayn and we will handle it. I extend everyone the same level of trust to do what's right but if at anytime that trust is abused or the contract broken imprisonment or death will be your only options. The Gods forgive us our tresspasses as long as we repent them, but I am no god and there's only so much repentpence can buy. Anything else on your mind?" He asked allowing his eyes to lose their dangerous edge, but he had meant for the young Imperiel to hear this speech for a very specific reason, he had to gauge the proud man's response to see if he could be trusted aboard the ship and be relied upon to have anyone's back should trouble arise. He would give this same test to every member of the Mercs as well as the Sailors.

[Imperial1917]

Isus had never been bowed from strangers' abominations of his view of non-humans and he wasn't now. Facing the captain presently, he checked himself, recalling that he would be working for this man, and said in a slightly flinted tone, "It would seem to me that you have found yourself mired in a pit of your own making, sir." Gripping the hilt of his sheathed sword with one hand, he continued more calmly, "Fear not though. I am a Templar; a man of honor, of devotion, and, above all else, of faith. We Templar are bound by the strength of our oaths and will follow them unto death. A Templar would only ever break a lesser oath when it conflicts with a greater one. So it is with me. I will abide by the contract signed, for it is not unlike an oath."

Pausing, considering his next words, he said, "But do not think me a fool. We Templar spend our lives pursuing unspeakable things into the dark parts of the world. In such places, we often find more enemies than friends. So have I. I have seen you, Captain. You look at my face and question my youth, but these things I have seen. More than once I have fought back not only the demons of Oblivion, but also the demons of those around me. The truly faithful walk a lonely path."

"So if you wish to tell me, in defiance of everything I have seen and learned, that I should place my trust in strangers, I tell you this: They will earn it or they will not. I will not give it to them. They must earn it. I will watch their backs, as I am bound to, but they must prove that they can do the same. Until then, I keep my back to the wall and will brook no arguments with it."

"So there, Captain, is your answer. But come, you have spoken of a vampire and I sense that you have not told me the conclusion. What became of the foul beast?" After a moment, he added, "More importantly, what became of the mate?"

[SikstaSlathalin]

The Captain sighed slightly dissapointed but not surprised at the young man's response.
"I question not your youth Templar, I have seen boys younger than my daughters do amazing things in the faces of the foulest beasts known to roam this land and prevail over the beast, nor do I question your loyalty to an oath your order are renowned for that. I question your pride and rigidty in letting your past rule your future, we have all seen and done things we could never fathom on a sane day. Many years ago I found myself in the company of a Knight of the Nine, an old vet named Alexander. Here is a man whoes whole life has been dedicated to an oath much like yourself, and llike you when he was young he let the shadows of his past dictate how he went through life. He trusted very few people and the ones he did trust he kept at arm's length. Soon the old crusader found himself utterly alone completly devoid of family and friends all because he didn't trust anyone and his pride eventually stopped him from extending the first olive branch. I only hope you can learn from his mistake, people don't seek to neither garner nor give trust to someone who constantly keeps a hand on his weapons and spends more time polishing his gear than talking with them like an equal. Long story short Templar Markarus, you need to give trust to gain it and being the bigger man and offering it first is a fantastic way to start."

The Captain walked to his cabin's and opened it wide letting the slowly warming morning air cascade in alongbwith the sunlight. Taking a deep breath he looked at Isus and smiled softly.
"Now come enough of this tense talk. The Sailorsbhave finished eating and I'd like to have a full stomach before we set sail." He stood aside allowing Isus to pass first before closing his door behind them.

[Imperial1917]

Isus did not let himself blink in the sudden sunlight, even as his eyes followed the captain to the cabin door. There were times for everything. Meeting the captain at the door, he said, "You misjudge me, Captain. There are fewer more dangerous things than misjudging a person. You tell me not to let my past rule my future. I will take your words into account, but remember this: You know nothing of my past. You know only what you see before you; what others have whispered into your ears. What they will whisper into your ears." He paused to let that sink in, then added, "And you know nothing of who I truly am. I do not trust those whose blood flows so differently from mine easily, but I have been taught by the Gods to judge people by their deeds as well as their words. That has earned me friends among their kind. However, that has not washed away the stains of the others."

[SikstaSlathalin]

The Nord sighed shaking his head.
"The stubborness and ignorance of youth." He turned to Isus crossing his arms over his chest looking him square in the face with the look of father teaching a lesson to his child. "Now you listen and you listen closely lad, I may not know your past or who you truely are but what I have learned not only from your conduct but also this conversation is that somewhere in your childhood a non-human wronged you greatly either killing your family or violating them in someway, or maybe a series of great wrongs. And because of that you paint every one you see in the exact same light, you say you judge by deeds and words this is good, but if you come into a situation with a preconcieved notion it will influence your judgement despite what could be true. No one aboard this vessel has earned the level of hatred you are seething with despite your words. You are not the only one who has faced demons in their past and still face them now, I can name three off the top of my head who are in that exact same mindset so do not think for one second your past excuses how you act and treat others, nor does your training or oath make up for it. Now this is the end of this discussion, you may join us in the galley fir breakfast or I can have Jolly put something aside for you. I will not force you but if I see anymore evil glares or the like it will end badly and I will tell all this to the others. I bid you good day Templar Marakus. Any more questions or concerns you may have feel free to come to me or the other Officers." With that Lord Winterblade left Isus to his own devices heading for the galley

[TsukiHime]

Sovia waiting the ship to set sails, she keep reading her scroll about destruction arts and sighs. Sovia put in the scroll and look at the healing arts scroll that she stole silently from her family scroll library, She will be killed when she come back alive although she is wondering will she be able to come back alive. this boat full of dangerous people who likely will break her neck if she ask one silly question and Sovia shiver with the thought of it.

[StormyNyte]

As Khinada neared the galley, she spied the captain already at the door. With a toothy smile, she threw up a clawed hand in greeting. "Good morning, Captain! It would seem the priests are still going about on their knees, no? A waste of time better spent on something else, that." She chuckled then. Truth was, she put very little stock in appealing to the divines. They were going to do what they wanted to do, regardless of one's praise or pleading cries, of that much she was certain. The scent of bacon and warmed bread wafted past, inciting her to take a deep breath through her nose. "If the cook's food is half as good as it smells, then the breaking of our fast will be quite a treat indeed, yes..."







(I know it's short, but I felt I needed to go ahead and post)

[Jacogos]

Daimus strode in slowly and closed the door behind him, foregoing the stool as he instead leaned against one of the walls nearby and smiled ever so slightly at her. She didn't look too worse for wear, which was a good thing. Azura knew they needed someone more than the Captain to help keep this crew in line.

"Was just checkin' in on ya, Miri, making sure you didn't get too done in," Daimus replied, nodding to himself in a self-satisfied manner. Just friendly concern was all. "Heard through the chatter that it was a vampire, of all things." And Dark Brotherhood as well, but I'll leave that for later...

Mirida looked over onto the wall rather then on him as he brought up the matter, not daring to share the concerned look of hers straight with Daimus, "Daimus, it was not just SOME vampire... It was him."

Mirida rarely used her more innocent voice by others, but this was one of those moments where she did, in the middle of being whom she was back then, a long time ago and the one she is today, her beverage touched voice and feminine soft voice in one.

Daimus felt his jaw drop momentarily, a second or two required to gather himself as his eyes widened as well. If those weren't enough to display his shock, nothing would. Then it would be the Brotherhood... Azure preserve me...

Looking back at things, Daimus had been very brave to tell her the truth, offering himself to be in great debt to her. The first year Daimus had taken care of her well being as recovery was somewhat slow, it was enough back then already, but she still felt pain of his unknowing betrayal, thus never relieving him of his debt until now, to serve on board the Storm Breaker. What a twist of fate that her nightmares was catching up on her in the form she feared the most.

"Daimus, I will need you now, more then ever if I am to hold myself strong through this voyage and I need you to cover whatever weakness that might be because of last nights event." Mirida said, slowly recovering to her more daily self.

Her shadow played on the wall due to the light from the lamp, "You know I trust you more then I wish I had." Mirida said with a slight hint of a smile somewhere behind her facade of toughness, now looking at him.

"Do you mind helping me dress properly?", she asked, "And I will need my fine armor to be repaired as soon as possible, all material cost will be on me seeing as how the armor is quite special to me." Mirida added, counting on him to help her up from bed.

Daimus frowned slightly, but nodded with a heavy sigh. "If I didn't know you better, I'd say you were scared, Mirida." That wasn't true, and he knew it. She probably was. Gods, he felt his heart flutter from the thought of the past coming back with a vengeance. If they were going to get involved again, now of all times... It was oddly opportune for her to have called on that same debt that he had incurred so long ago... No, don't think like that, you blasted fool! What makes you think she could have seen this coming any more than you? Straightening, the Dunmer moved to the side of her bed with a solemn expression.

"So what is it then, Miri? I heard he got away again. Are we to be pestered more throughout the trip or do you think they'll simply slink away for another handful of years?" he offered her a hand and shoulder to lean on, pointedly ignoring her moments of admitted weakness. She was a strong woman, and not likely to need his help for much longer than to get back on her feet. She never did.

Mirida accepted his support and extended her an arm up on Daimus wrist and grabbed on allowing herself to get pulled up, wavering a hand in gesture for him to reach for her shirt and coat. Appreciating Daimus casual way to remain seemingly calm and ignoring her moment of weakness.

Mirida knew that Fefheir was not done hunting her, seeing as he had assumed her to be dead for so long, "I am sorry Daimus, I wouldn't be able to tell for sure, but... Fefheir will most likely pursue me till I am dead or the other way around, that he falls by my steel." Mirida responded to Daimus question.

Strong, independent, shortly enough would she face her crew with the mask that was this strong leader Lord Winterblade had hired to support him in his quest, but first she needed to get dressed.

Nodding quietly, Daimus helped the Nordic woman dress whilst carefully averting his eyes during most of the exchange. The man might be long dead, but this Dunmer smith still honored his memory, at least. Once she was decent, he gathered the armor she had been wearing the previous night and, with a small smile for her benefit, left the room. Once that was put where he would remember it and kept safe, then he might go see about finding something to eat...

[Rayne7]

Graesin heard the captain say he wanted to see them in the galley, but then went to see to the imperial who so obviously loathed all the non-humans aboard. Not that it mattered to the wood elf, who was here for one reason only: to leave Skyrim and to go after those who had taken him prisoner those years ago. Besides, no one trusted anyone at this point in time; they were all too fresh, and in spite of the fight the night before, he knew it would take more than a brawl to earn their trust. The only person aboard the ship he found worthy of even a fraction of trust was the captain, who was so very obviously trying to eliminate the hostility that was ever-present. But these were issues that could only be resolved over time as they interacted with one another. For now, he only sought to learn his role in this journey.

Looking up in the crow's nest, he saw a young woman with her bow slung across her back, looking out over their surroundings as the sun rose into the morning. Shaking his head, he had to remind himself they likely hadn't spent most of their lives on the run from mages who wanted to torture and kill them. Regardless, he didn't want their first warning of a possible attacker to be a corpse hitting the deck. Scaling the mast to the crow's nest with the ease of a wood elf used to climbing trees and scaling mountainsides, he popped into the nest beside the woman.

"Nice bow. How long have you been an archer?" he asked politely, hoping she'd accept a few pointers.

[SikstaSlathalin]

*Viera*

The young Imperial woman was watching some young men fishing off the dock half wondering if the Captain would allow her to join them. Being on watch in port is terribly boring anyone mad enough to attack them this close to Solitude had some kind of death wish. Her mind went along this fancy until she heard a voice scarily calm and uncomfortably close and she quite nearly shouted the alarm until she saw it was the scary looking Bosmer archer. He asked her about her archery. She' d been a sailor since she was a teen but never really bothered to learn the skill before this year. Things had been either peaceful or the Captain had hired his own archer from either the Companions, or Fighter's Guild, or some other such Mercenary band, but the Commodore made everyone in the Sailor's Guild expand their skill set to make sure everyone had at least a basic knowledge of every skill including Stealth ones and Magic.

She had a slight hesitation talking to the Mer, something about his eyes put the woman on edge, but the Captain made it crystal clear that everyone would have to play nice on the long voyage. So she swallowed her fear and shook her head smiling sheepishly.
"Thanks and not long to be honest, never had to learn the skill before this year. I'm good enough to hit my target at close range but ... kinda usless at a distance. Is my inexperience that obvious?" She laughed softly looking at the Wood Elf.


*Minerva*

Breakfast was good, actually better than most meals the Redguard woman could recall. And she could recall tham all, she just hoped those would be the norm and not just because today was a big day. The Mercs would be in for a treat when they sat down. That is if they didn't kill each other beforehand, thankfully Lord Winterblade is the kind of man that is good at heading off trouble when he sees it coming. Minerva was on her way back to the quarters to clean things up when she noticed the young Altmer girl sitting by herself looking scared as can be studying her scrolls. The woman laughed softly walking up to her.
"You looks more scared than a rabbit in a wolf's den young miss. Why so nervous?" Minerva asked crouching down before the Mer smiling kindly to her.


* Lord Winterblade*

Allester smiled at the Khajiit, it has been many years since he's been in the company of a Khajiit, in fact he hasn't really seen one of the cat people since he last saw Do'Magazo. The great white Cathay-Raht warrior that travelled with Allester during some of his adventures across Tameriel. The Khajiit were an interesting people and Magazo was on the top rung of the interesting ladder. A 6'7 220 pound walking contridiction, he's cheery as a child but also vicious as a Snowy Saber Cat, he's simple as a dullard but sharp as a well taken care of sword. Master of the Whispering Claw Martial Arts but can't smith to save his life. The old Nord was hoping his message would bring the great lump to Solitude to join his crew, but maybe he'd see him in another port. He smiled at Khinada nodding at her words.
"Oh I'm sure you'll find it very pleasing lass, Jolly came highly reccommended by the Sailor's Guild. And I'm sure they'll be along shortly, the High King and myself both asked them to be along shortly after first light." He took his seat at the head of the table and waited for everyone else to join them.

[TsukiHime]

Sovia lost in her thought when she hear someone getting closer. She look at the person and realized that this perspn that the captain called 'minerva' then she look at her smile and for the first time feeling grateful that someone not look at her with sinical eyes because she is an altmer.

Sovia smile back at her "i just scared with the thought of coming back home alive.. Because i do a sinful thing.." she says with depresed face that her father always say 'pathetic' face "but on the other hand.. I also doubt i will come back alive.. Because the people gather here is more dangerous than my father rage.." sovia says with depresed tone.

[Malificar]

Jornheim hated the city. It reminded him too much of his hometown, loud, bustling, and full of cowards and weaklings. The smells assaulted him from all side, reminding him both of fights past and of his massive hangover. A headache born off of too much mead and the stench of decaying feces do not mix well. Jornheim grunted to himself in disgust. If that damned merchant didn't lose a wheel we would have been here days ago! If I missed my ship, I am going to go find that cringing, worthless Bretonian and rip his damned eyes and tongue off! See how he deals in goods after that encounter! Jornheim chuckled to himself at the thought of the merchant's face if he returned in such a mood. He decided to file that thought away for future amusement.

Noticing a guard looking bored on the roadside, he decided to ask for directions. Approaching the man, Jornheim was unsurprised to see the look of shock the guard put on after viewing him. The man was young, most likely just given his position in some way or another. "Where can I find the docks, specifically the good ship Storm Breaker?" The guard shook himself out of his daze and pointed further down the road, giving hasty directions as he tried to make up for his moment of shock. Thanking the man, Jornheim turned to follow the road further down towards his destination. Guess that means the ship is still in port! A good thing, though if it takes much longer I may have to skip town before it leaves. That would be a shame.

Frowning to himself, Jornheim reached the docks. It did not smell nearly as bad as the main city, though it seemed an even more unsavory area. Smiling to himself, Jornheim enjoyed the wide walkway that appeared before him as he sauntered through the area. The local thugs wouldn't try and start anything, but they would be little fun to play with anyways. Spotting his vessel ahead, Jornheim hiked up his pack and walked on board. He was slightly nervous about going on an ocean going vessel such as this, but he was a competent swimmer, so he brushed aside his unease.

Upon finally stepping upon the ship, Jornheim announced to all around: "Jornheim Jotunson reporting for duty. Where is the captain?"

[Imperial1917]

Isus watched the captain go and stood where he was, words of contempt barely restrained on his tongue. As the captain's shadow fully receded from the doorway, Isus fingered his sword's hilt absently and thought on what to do with this captain. Here was a man of conflicting words and actions. And perhaps a liar as well.

He appeared blind to the fact that Isus didn't confront anyone; they made the first move. First there was that damned Argonian shooting him looks and then there was the Dunmer blacksmith. Where he was keen to single out Isus for the 'wrongs' that he had done to others, he conveniently forgot that Isus had been the recipient first, not the distributor. For that matter, Isus had said nothing on the subject. That the captain was right and Isus didn't trust non-humans was simply blind luck. For all he knew when Isus stepped onto the ship, he just didn't like people in general. And the Gods knew that there were plenty of those people in the world.

Come to think of it, there were quite a few of those in the crew too. They were the kind that Isus could feel boring their gazes into his back when it was turned. They were always watching, judging, assuming that he was racist and going to make the first move. In truth, they knew nothing; they had never spoken to Isus nor had they probably ever heard him speak. It was the case that the only way they would know is if they had the ability to read Isus' mind. Everything up to this point would otherwise be put down to simple dislike of people or perhaps his zealousy in pursuing the Gods' work.

Isus shook his head. There was no point griping as if there were some divine beings in the world with the time to trouble themselves with his little misgivings. The Gods had better things to do than make things fair for Isus all the time. After all, wasn't that his job? To carry out the Gods' work and do what was needed to make a better world while they contended with more important matters in seeing to its health? No, he would just have to grit his teeth and endure.

Taking a last look around the captain's cabin, Isus checked to make sure all his possessions were still about him and headed out, closing the door behind him. As he emerged into the more frigid air of the ship deck, he could smell the fragrances of breakfast and see the sailors falling out of the messhall to set about their work. For a moment, he contemplated finding out who - or rather, what - the chef was, but then put it from his mind. Dangerous waters do not brook hasty action. Besides which, the meal yesterday had already made his stomach decide whether that was an important matter.

It wasn't.

Just as he started down the steps to the deck, Isus heard a deep-voiced tone that reminded him of opera singers and looked up to see a man standing at the gangplank. It appeared to be yet another mountain-man Nord.

[SikstaSlathalin]

*Minerva*

Minerva's smile deepened at the young woman's frown patting her knee. Somehow thr Redguard doubted it was boy problems that the girl's father was calling sinful maybe some school of magic her father didn't like. Either way Mini could relate her father was furious when she spoke of leaving home and a wealthy bethothed husband she knew would lock her away like a Dragon hording treasure and she'd never feel the sun again.
"Well while I can't gurrentee much what I can gurrentee is that no one one this ship will harm you on purpose. For one we all signed a contract saying we won't and two Captain Winterblade won't allow it. He's a just and honorable man, anyyone even trying it will find themselves in more trouble then they can handle, and maybe if we all survive this trip the Captain will come to have some words with your father. Now come you look hungry and the other travellers are eating breakfast now." She patted the Altmer's knee again standing up groaning softly. "Never be a life-long sailor young miss, your knees will never forgive you." Shaking out the creaky joints she moved opening the door for the girl still smiling warmly.


*Ortis the Misty-Eyed*

Why's the sun so damn bright? Why's the wind so loud? Why's that seagull staring at me? These were the thoughts going through the mind of Ortis the Misty-Eyed vetren sailor and drinker to the health of everyone he met, he's a saint like that. He's been sailing for almost as long as many of his shipmates have been alive Captain Winterblade aside, it was in both his name and his blood. Fa did it, his Fa did, and his Fa but his Ma started it they say. Who knows all Ortis knew was if he survived this voyage he'd retire and take over the family meadery, making sure to sample each batch before selling it. He was on his way to check for leaks when a deep bear-like voice and massibe shadow loomed over him.

A truely massive Nord was on the gangplank looking to join the crew... the Gods must favor him to make him this lucky. Ortis didn't show much reaction to the big man but he also had to close one eye and squint to even see the guy.
"Well better late than never I suppose, hang tight lad I'll get him." The old sailor said his watery eyes wobble out of focus again moving to the galley.


*Winterblade*


Allester was helping Jolly with a slightly overfilled pot of sauce when Ortis knocked on the galley door looking like he had something to announce.
"Sir, a Jornheim Jotunson has just showed up wishing to join the crew, he's a biggun too."
"Thank you Ortis, as you were." The man nodded giving a lop-sided salute before dissapearing again. Wiping his hands off he politly excused himself from the others and left the galley looking in the direction of the gangplank he could tell by the name it was a Nord but he'd only seen a few Nords this man's size in his life. Turning to his cabin he side-stepper Isus going inside.
"Pardon me Templar Marakus." Slipping inside he grabbed one of the contracts out along with a quill and some ink before exiting his cabin again closing the door behind him.

With everything in order he walked to the man yanking a rope barrel up to write on.
"Greetings friend, I am Captain Allester Winterblade and let me welcome you to our fine vessel. Everyone intending to join must sign this contract before they can claim a spot in our crew." He hands the paper to the man and places the quill and inkwell on top of the barrel." It's a standard contract explaining what the Officers and Crew are expected to do and what they aren't allowed to do. Any concerns don't be afraid to ask." He smiled slightly nodding to his brother Nord.

[Malificar]

Jornheim grunted in acknowledgement to Captain Winterblade, and began signing his name onto the contract. He did not much care for information regarding pay, shore leave, or anything he deemed unimportant. After finishing his signature, he handed the slip of paper back to the Captain, nodding his head in recognition of Winterblade's authority on the ship. He hoisted his pack onto his back once again, but he stopped for a moment. He pondered for a second before saying: "Winterblade... that name sounds very familiar. you fought with King Ulfric during the war correct? I remember hearing that name more than once."

Jornheim scanned over Winterblade's face and body for a moment, and stated: "Good stories, all things considered. You were involved in many a fine battle weren't you? Your continued existence speaks enough for your prowess at any rate. Before I go store my kit, I have two questions. The first is to our next port of call. What exactly is the plan for our route? Also, is there enough space for my requirements, or will I have to push some beds together?" Satisfied with his assessment, Jornheim wanted nothing more than to go sleep off his massive headache.

[TsukiHime]

Sovia smile happily as she stand up "My name is Sovia miss..Pleasure to meet you.." she says and go to the door she kindly open for her. Sovia turn around when someone announced himself as Jornheim Jotunson, looks like another dangerous people.. Sovia thought and she keep wondering how people like more trouble as minerva said more than they can handle. Sovia think its best to live peacefully and safe but then again she might never understand the feeling of these crazy adventurers, they must have a lost screw in their brains, well not that she also has more brains than them she even think she doesnt have brains at all.

[StormWolf]

After a time of staring at the misty horizon, the calling of his Khajiit friend drew his attention from his mental dwellings. While he was not terribly hungry, there was always someplace he could put more food. It would do no harm to put more energy for the day into the furnace of his body. Taking a deep breath, exhaling in a misty sigh, Starkad turned to head down to the galley. The mess was crowded, as would be expected. The Ice Wolf had to shoulder his way through the throngs of shorter crewmates, taking up a great deal of bench on his own. With a bowl of his gruel and a mug of beer, Starkad began his meal. The beer was thick as bear piss, and wasn't much better in taste, but it would keep for a long time before it went bad. The food, if it could be called such a thing, was like clay and ash in his mouth. That combined with the hangover taste and vile beer in his mouth just made an evil flavor on his tongue. He grimaced as his lips curled into a scowl, but it was nothing better or worse than the food he put down as a soldier under Ulfric's banner. Perhaps it was just his morning temperment that robbed him of the flavor, but it mattered little to Starkad. He was getting nutrition. He would go and eat a stag raw if he needed to, and it was something he had done more than once.

Looking to his fellow sailors, namely the ones he had shared the events of the previous night's... entertainment, Starkad attempted some semblance of conversation. Something he still was sorely rusty in,

"Do we have any inclination as to what our first stop is?" said Starkad through a mouthful of his food, bits of it stuck in his scruffy beard. Those keen-as-steel eyes of his cut through the galley, the eyes of a hunter whenever they were open. There were still many faces without names to them, and Starkad did not trust those he did not know. Trust had to be earned. Such was the way of Nords.

[SikstaSlathalin]

Allester took the contract and studied Jornheim's signature, very strong broad hand as would be expected by such a large man. He rolled up the document and fished around in his coat pocket pulling out one of the keys to one of the remaining sea chests handing it to the younger Nord, he couldn't help but smile at the man's words. Always does an old warrior good hearing himself remembered by a younger generation.
"Ay lad, I'm that same man. I've led men from the front lines as well as from camp. Our first port will be Farrunn in High Rock, we'll resupply what we need and any dire repairs will be dealt with. Our route will take us west where we will circumnavigate Tamriel passing every Province stopping just long enough to map it's interior before we move on to the next port. And you shouldn't have too much trouble, this is a Nordic warship so the beds are used to fitting warriors in armor. Myself, another Nord and the one Orc aboard aren't small men and we can fit well enough you just might have to move an empty sea chest aside. That key goes to the chest in the back left corner of the men's quarters which is through that door and on the left. He pointed to the crew's quarters. But I'd recommend returning to deck soon after stowing your gear and have some breakfast. Once Priests of the Nine come and bless our trip we'll be leaving port." He patted the giant man's shoulder soundly and went back to his cabin to lock the contracts and other keys into his safe.

*Minerva*

"You can call me Minerva, Sovia come I'll show you to the galley. Lock your stuff up so it doesn't get lost though." She smiled nodding back to the girl's sea chest.


*Jolly*

Overhearing Stark's question the hard working Breton cook piped up. The Captain had told each of the Sailors the ports he plans to stop in all along the journey it was tentative though depending on what happens between now and then.
"We'll be stopping in High Rock first the town of Farrun if I remember right." He placed the remainder of the food on the table. Bacon, eggs, some ham, mutton, some bread, ale, milk, and water rounded off the meal . He also had the gruel and beer Stark dove into it was nasty but when it came to hangovers it helped a little more than the rest of the richly flavoured food.

[Malificar]

Jornheim grunted in acceptance of the captains words, and moved towards the hold in order to secure his possessions and see where he would be staying. Ducking in order to not smack his head, He made his way inside the sleeping quarters. To Jornheim, who had been sleeping in the wilderness or in a wagon for the last few months, the luxury of sleeping in a cot was warmly welcomed, even if the space was a little cramped. He quickly stored his meager possessions away, but took out a sword shaped bundle and tied it underneath his bed while no one was looking. Wouldn't do for anyone to find this. That life is over now,and I need only bring it back when it is absolutely required.

Heading out of the hold and into the kitchen, Jornheim made note of all the other crewmen, particularly another massive Nord like himself, with a similar looking shine to his eyes. That looks promising... it will be good to have another man like I on the ship. You can never have too many who love fighting. Grabbing a bowl of gruel from the cook and a tankard of ale, Jornheim sat down at one of the emptier tables and began eating. The beer was thick, and not particularly pleasant, but it was good enough for his purposes. The Gruel was much of the same, but having a hot meal was still satisfying for Jornheim, who had grown tired of dry and tasteless gunk that he had been eating on his trip to the city. Once he was done eating, Jornheim decided to go back out to the deck, to see if there was anything left to do. The sooner we get out of this damned city, the better.

- - - Updated - - -

Jornheim grunted in acceptance of the captains words, and moved towards the hold in order to secure his possessions and see where he would be staying. Ducking in order to not smack his head, He made his way inside the sleeping quarters. To Jornheim, who had been sleeping in the wilderness or in a wagon for the last few months, the luxury of sleeping in a cot was warmly welcomed, even if the space was a little cramped. He quickly stored his meager possessions away, but took out a sword shaped bundle and tied it underneath his bed while no one was looking. Wouldn't do for anyone to find this. That life is over now,and I need only bring it back when it is absolutely required.

Heading out of the hold and into the kitchen, Jornheim made note of all the other crewmen, particularly another massive Nord like himself, with a similar looking shine to his eyes. That looks promising... it will be good to have another man like I on the ship. You can never have too many who love fighting. Grabbing a bowl of gruel from the cook and a tankard of ale, Jornheim sat down at one of the emptier tables and began eating. The beer was thick, and not particularly pleasant, but it was good enough for his purposes. The Gruel was much of the same, but having a hot meal was still satisfying for Jornheim, who had grown tired of dry and tasteless gunk that he had been eating on his trip to the city. Once he was done eating, Jornheim decided to go back out to the deck, to see if there was anything left to do. The sooner we get out of this damned city, the better.

[Imperial1917]

Isus easily let by the captain and watched him exchange words with the man-mountain. Eventually the captain produced a contract, which the man signed and returned. Seeing that there was no more to concern himself with, Isus slipped into the mess hall in search of food. He arrived just in time to hear the cook remarking about their first stop. As he gathered his food from the selection and began to eat, he thought on what he knew of it.

Farrun. That port was somewhat distant from Ebonheart, but that didn't stop ships from coming and going through Isus' home city. Goods from beyond Skyrim always had to stop there before making the journey through the treacherous Sea of Ghosts. It was not uncommon to hear even hardened sailors remark that more ships sank in it than made it to the closest haven. It was an exaggeration as far as Isus was aware. Shipments were occasionally lost, more so than say coming up from Black Marsh, but the loss rates were not unprecedented. The shelter provided by Solitude and Dawnstar helped to keep them down. All in all, Farrun was important for shipping this side of the Sea of Ghosts.

Beyond that... Farrun had a spotty history at best. Like its fellow cities in High Rock, it was ruled by a monarchy; one of the eight. There used to be more, much more, but that was before the Warp in the West. Isus could hardly keep from shuddering. There were over forty-five kingdoms before it and four or five after. There was magical power beyond most mortals. And it was still not entirely explained.

Since then, Farrun had become important in only one other facet than shipping. It had engaged in war against Solitude and its allies sometime late in the Third Era. At that time they were under some unnamed king. Why or what the eventual settlement was was unimportant. What was important was that people tended to have long memories when it came to grudges and Nords more than most. Their reception in Farrun might not be as warm as the captain would want starting off this voyage.

[Rayne7]

Graesin could see that he had startled the woman, and for a moment seemed ill at ease with him standing so near, but then recovered quickly and with grace. Her admission of lack of experience spoke of a maturity, though he frowned at the thought of the Captain setting someone so inexperienced on watch. Of course, most people would doubt the chance of someone attacking a ship in port, especially at Solitude. But it was his experience that attacks could come at any time, and therefore you needed to be careful with the watch you set, and make sure they remain alert and at the ready.

He shook his head at her question. "For some, perhaps not. But if you're on watch, you need to remain alert and ready. In Valenwood, our scouts are taught to keep their bow in hand, arrow nocked though not drawn. Standing is the best position for an archer, or if you're facing enemy archers, then crouching would minimize their target and allow you to remain a bit more steady. When you draw, bring the string back until it's beside your eye. If the bow you're using is powerful and difficult to pull, use your back muscles; it makes for an easier draw. When searching for threats, keep your eyes moving, and don't focus on any one place for too long." Realizing how he sounded, he quickly added "My apologies. I'm not criticizing you, just don't want you to be missing anything if we come into battle."

Turning, he saw a giant man speaking with the captain for a moment before disappearing in the quarters. Nodding to the woman, he leapt from the crow's nest onto the net, then dropped to deck, landing on his feet. Deciding to go to the galley as ordered, he entered just in time to hear they were going to port in Farrun of High Rock. Scowling, he took to standing by the entrance as he waited for the Captain.

Hopefully this voyage would soon begin.

[Raindrop]

Well dressed Mirida made it towards the upper deck, preparing herself to hold a speech for Lord Winterblades new mercenaries.
Daimus had been kind enough and acted like a gentleman when he had helped her dress, in all respect, Daimus and Lord Winterblade was two people worth of respect, now if only Mirida would gain the same respect she had for them two by the crew, things would turn out easier, both for the crew and herself.
She needed not to get closer to the crew, but she needed their respect, this was natural order if one wanted to have a crew of so different backgrounds bonding.

At least she hoped for that effect, hate their superior and they got something in common. Mirida needed only less then a handful of friends in these times, that and a strong crew, for she hated weaklings, no matter how small or big they were.

Well suited in sea fit clothing with shoulder pads, a short armed coat, leather boots and all in fine brown and blue colors, pants still in fine cloth. All in all, she still looked respectable.
Heavy steps echoed through the ship as she moved for the upper deck, oh would she love to put them all into labor, ALL of them!

[StormyNyte]

With a nod and friendly smile, Khinada slipped past the Mer archer as he stood watch at the entrance to the galley. Once inside, she glanced from Starkad to the Imperial who had yet to name himself to her and then to Jolly. Having overheard the cook’s answer to the Nord’s question, she flashed a grin and took a seat. Normally, she’d have reservations about the close quarters with such company, but Starkad had already taken up for her once and as long as the Imperial man didn’t make a snide remark everything would be alright.

Taking up half a loaf of bread, she hollowed it out to make a trencher and proceeded to fill it with some bacon, eggs, and a bit of mutton before pouring herself a mug of milk. Looking from one man to the other, she slowly took a sip and wondered if any of the three of them would be the first to call her “milk drinker.” Returning the mug to the table, she began to eat. The captain was certainly right about Jolly’s cooking. Savoring the taste, she found herself hoping that the following meals on the voyage would be just as good.

Once her hunger was sated, she licked the grease from her fingers and finished off the remainder of her milk before speaking. “The captain did not overstate your ability, Jolly, yes… a fine meal.” She tore off a small piece of grease-soaked bread from what remained of her trencher and popped it in her mouth before continuing, speaking more to everyone this time. “Khinada hopes the ship will make port a fair while in Elsweyr, she would love to visit the land of her ancestors. Her father would speak of it around the night fire on occasion, but never has she seen it with her own eyes.”

[Jacogos]

It wasn't long before Daimus was among those eating breakfast as well; his protesting stomach had not taken it time reminding him that he was mortal and therefore needed sustenance. Grumbling about the time it would take to fix Mirida's armor, the Dunmer sat himself near the Khajiit with a plate of food, keeping quiet as the other murmured around him.

There was talk of setting anchor in Farrun, a port town in High Rock. That meant Bretons. Daimus suppressed a shudder of contempt. For some reason it was the Bretons he disliked the most in general. Well, okay, next to the Altmer. Pompous-assed yellow-ears, the lot of them. The two races' alliance did nothing for the former's disposition, in Daimus's mind.

Shrugging his shoulders uncomfortably, the Dark Elf tried to mentally berate himself for such thoughts. They were long-coming, but eventually he figured that if he was to be an 'example' for the rest of the crew, he could leave behind long-held beliefs for at least a month. By that time, any crewman will have proven me right or wrong...

Settling down to his food, Daimus ate in silence.

[Raindrop]

Mirida had already sent out someone to send a message to the priests to hurry up and be done with whatever they did so that they could bless them all on their journey.

Wind swept through hair, she stood up as if she hadn't even been fighting the day before, all in all impressively straight and disciplined posture or pride and eyes demanding respect from everyone, be them kings or gods, the respect she felt for others was the same respect she demanded back and if that was non existent, she would soon come to loath them for their weakness.

Swift movements flew in front of her commanding arms and her strengths was obvious to those whom beheld her when she worked, it was efficient and the sailors guild to which she also belonged among the high ranks, treasured her doubtless commanding ways though it may be tough and utter hell, in the end, those who worked was rewarded pride and nicknames, reputation.
She may hold little reputation herself due to her low profile in the sailors guild but it was sure as hell known to those who did more then peek inside the guild that a lot of men and women whom had served under her had gained something worthy of a reputation.
Mirida was good at her stuff, really good and she would prove to all of them as early as of today when they set sail.

It was almost time, the priest would arrive soon and soon enough would she have the newcomers up on deck, recharged for a days work.

[SikstaSlathalin]

*Second half of the GM time skip*

The Captain waited until the rest of the mercs were present then dove right into what he told the Templar. He was sure some of them had heard what was said but it never hurts to repeat yourself sometimes. He spoke in a clear levelled voice and looked everyone in the eye as he repeated the whole speech. How no matter what your past experiences or what you've been through prejudice and racism would be punished but he wasn't going to force anyone to deal with anyone. He also spoke of how everyone should try and get to know the rest of the crew. They're gonna be on this voyage for a very long time and it'll be even longer if everyone stayed so mistrusting of each other.

As he spoke everyone ate their food in relative silence mulling over their own thoughts maybe asking a question or two but all and all it was quick and from the Captain's eyes painless. He soon heard Veira hailing from the Crow's Nest that the Priests and large crowd of people were approaching. Eager to get underway he excused himself and asked the mercs to come with him. They all marched up from the galley and most of them bowed their heads as each Priest gave the individual blessing of each of the Nine Divines and hopefully insured a safe and productive journey on the bidding of High King Ulfric who couldn't free himself from the duties of his new Kingdom, Allester knew that would be the case so he wasn't too surprised when Galmer Stone-Fist approached and presented him with bottle of the High King's personally brewed ale as a final parting gift and gave both the King's and his own's condolences.

Captain Winterblade accepted both the ale and the condolences from the man. The Priests wrapped up the ceremony and with a great thanks from each of the Officers they big farewell and moved on back to their duties in Solitude. The crowd, who had been silent during the blessings shouted and cheered for the brave Captain and his stalwart crew wishing them only the best of luck and a swift return to the chilly shores of Skyrim. Allester remained calm but his heart was practically bursting with good will and pride. He was about to enter onto the greatest quest he'd ever been on and set his name and the names of his crew into the annals of history and they would have helped the whole of Skyrim and hopefully all of Tamriel to understand the world they live in and maybe just maybe bring some peace to everyone. But that was just a pipe dream Winterblade toyed with at times. His whole life has been about war and fighting, he'd killed many, saved others but one thing he's never truly had is peace. Even when he had "retired" from active adventuring he found himself still out in Skyrim's wilds doing little jobs for Guilds and training soldiers to be a proper army and not so much a rag-tag group of rebels. He'd find peace someday maybe even before he dies, he shouted to the Sailors and they set sail letting the gentle winds guide them to their destination.

Soon though the gentle winds became strong and violent, they were barely out of view of Solitude when when a full blizzard at sea smashed into them bundled up as best as they could the Sailors strained under the Captain's orders as he fought to keep them from capsizing. It seems the Gods hadn't heard the blessings yet.
"Cut the sails free, I don't need them ripped or the mast broken!" The Sailors jumped to do this letting the sails flap and slap free. "Everyone try and keep your eyes out for land!" It was easier said then done the snow was needle thing and the wind howled so meanly it watered the eyes forcing nearly everyone to move about with their eyes shut.

[StormyNyte]

The meeting with the captain went pretty much as Khinada had expected it to, it was obvious to anyone that cared to pay attention that more than a few on the ship harbored ill-feelings about other races and the matter had sorely needed addressed. When the priests finally showed up and blessed their voyage, she could hardly contain her excitement. Now they had leave to weigh anchor and set sail on the biggest adventure of her Khajiit life. Her enthusiasm was soon dampened as the weather took a turn for the worst. When the winds started to gain in strength and the air took on more of a bite, she had retreated below to retrieve her woolen cloak before returning on deck. It was on deck now where she huddled, snow covered and shivering as she clutched the railing like a drowning man to a piece of wood. Her snow-sodden cloak snapped in the wind and her head hung over the side as she gave a miserable groan. Just when she felt as though her body could purge itself no further, the ship listed once more and shattered any hope she held that it was over. Once again, she hugged the rail retched over the side. She had traveled many times on rafts and river boats, but never on a ship traveling the open ocean. It certainly wasn’t starting out as the best experience of her life and she had no illusions of how difficult it would be to live this particular instance down with her crewmates.

[Jacogos]

Daimus sat alone within his makeshift smithy, legs crossed under him and eyes shut tighter than anyone above-decks would have been. Frantic prayers to Azura spilled from his lips in a hushed rant as he slowly fought to control himself and his heaving stomach. It had been far too long since he had been on a ship; he had completely forgotten how it unsettled him. And damn it all if he would lose his breakfast this soon into the journey!

"At least the bloody trick for my tools worked..." he muttered under his breath, the smithing gear moving not an inch for all the pitching and heaving of the ship. Petrifying the wood and nails that held the equipment down had taken quite the magic out of him and the Winterhold Mage that he had snagged from Solitude when he had first gotten here, but once it was done, it would take a skilled hand and the finest hammer and pick to bash that equipment out. Of course, there would be no need to salvage it later; it had all been bought specifically for the journey.

Slowly standing, Daimus managed to keep himself upright by pressing his back against the wall as if a knife was trying to dig its way into his throat. For all it was worth, the Dunmer was absolutely certain that he would not come out of this room except for food and nature when necessary.

"Blood and confound it all..." he swore as a particularly heavy shift dropped him back to his bottom. The captain had been right; this was going to be a long trip.

[Lord Tully]

Shava tuned out much of the morning, aside from listening to Captain Winterblade's speech in the galley, which she was quite happy for, she spent much of her time thinking of the night before, namely why a vampire would ever attack Mirida so openly. The First Mate had hardly said anything to Shava since they'd come back which left the Argonian plenty of time to speculate.

But her speculation took a lower position in her mind when it was finally time to set sail. This was what Shava had waited moths and traveled all the way across Skyrim for, the chance to sail across the open ocean and see the world. She was quite excited as she went about doing what was required of her, at least until the ocean rose up and started to try and kill everyone. Shava had been on the ocean before but never in conditions like this, her stomach was iron clad against the motions of the ship, but she had to dig her claws deep into the wooden deck in order to stay standing. The freezing water coming down on her was almost pleasant compared to barely being able to walk straight.

As she shambled about the deck doing everything she could to be of assistance, and not really managing that with her undeveloped sea legs, she spotted Khinada doubled over the railing, it was clear she wasn't the only one unused to these conditions. She started towards the Khajiit, but a particularly violent shift caused her to almost fly against the railing next to Khinada, "If your gut's empty we should get below deck, we're not much use up here and we can't have people going over." she said grabbed the railing with one hand to steady herself, and Khinada's arm with the other to stead the Khajiit.

[StormyNyte]

Her eyes were closed when she felt the railing shudder with a sudden new weight and before she could muster herself to raise her head Shava’s voice called out to, sounding faint in her ears over the howling wind. When the Argonian spoke of getting safely below deck and took her arm, Khinada slowly opened her eyes, lifted her head, and nodded. Her complexion probably looked startlingly pale even through the fine fur of her face. She mustered herself enough to reply to the other woman while slowly pushing up and carefully away from the rail. “Khinada feels that this ocean means to kill her, for surely she must me dieing…” With that, she let Shava help her across the heaving deck; their clawed feet made it a little easier to gain traction over the wooded surface but the two must have surely looked like drunkards as they staggered against their uncooperative path to safety. Once safely below, she thanked Shava for her assistance and lowered herself onto her bunk, resolving to stay there until the worst was over.

[TsukiHime]

Sovia arrive at the galley and start to get nervous over the people who already there, Sovia goes to the corner of the table and start to grab a little of bread and hot tea. She eat it gratefully as she notice a khajit also eating a bread not far from her seat.

Sovia look at the khajiit while eating the bread. heee.. khajiit race kinda cool.. Sovia thought as she finish eating. The captain walk in and make a speech as sovia only understand half of it and keep looking at the captain with dumb face. I think my stupid brains cant really understand what the speech is about.. Sovia thought innocently.

after a while the ship finally depart after being blessed by the priest, Sovia is at the corner of the ship looking at the sea and amazed of how the crew working together. Sovia doesnt think she able to give anything, but if she is being ask to do something she will try her best to do it.

[Imperial1917]

Isus stood in the mess, listening to the captain's spheel. Looking around, Isus got the impression that he might as well have been speaking to a brick wall. The only ones who seemed to care were an Altmer and some others. Well, ever brick wall had its mortar. Still, if he insisted and he was the captain, it was as good as an order. And following orders was a part of Isus' employment here; part of his oath. Looking around, he searched for the one that looked least likely to plunge a dagger into his back when he wasn't looking. The scare-looking Altmer girl looked promising. And scared. What she was doing here was really irrelevant. If the captain insisted...

Then they were hustled out to receive the Priests' blessings. Isus stood proud as they paraded past, intoning the sacred words of the Nine. This was part of what a Templar was; part of what Isus was. He knew each of the prayers they spoke before they even emerged from their lips. He hadn't received a blessing like this since he left Ebonheart last.

Then came a bit a little less pleasant. The blessings of Ulfric. It was evident from the way that the brew was handed over that Ulfric sent genuine personal regards to the captain. Bedding with the traitor then. It was a pity. The events of the morning almost had Isus in a good favor for serving this captain. And that brew - a personal brew of Ulfric - probably didn't taste all that good. Nords liked to boast about their drinks, but Isus knew that not all of them were brewmasters. This was likely the case with Ulfric, High King or not. Then again, he WAS High King, held in honor among the Nords. Perhaps it was a Nord tradition for their leaders to be master makers of mead. It would certainly explain a lot. Isus would look into that later.

Still, Isus managed through the long-windedness of the speakers enough to enjoy the blessings of the Priests. They soon set sail... right into a blizzard.

Isus had seen it coming. Well, that wasn't hard and hardly an accomplishment. It was hard to miss. Which begged the question why no warning came about it before they set out instead of after. Grumbling, he made his way through the swaying deck, through the scattering crew, to a good place and used a rope to lash himself down. In all his travels, a storm had yet to bring this Son of Ebonheart off his feet and it was unlikely now. One did not live in Ebonheart with armor that couldn't take such things, even heavy armor. Besides, tending the ship was the expertise of the crew. The mercenaries still wandering would likely just get in the way, especially since Isus was probably the only one with even rudimentary knowledge of how to fix anything on the ship.

Then he heard the call to keep a lookout for land. Glancing to the side, Isus mentally pictured where they were. If land came, it would come from that direction. Slowly, as the storm raged, he began to intone the sacred prayers of Kynareth to guide them through the storm. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered where that Altmer got to.

[Malificar]

Jornheim was rather uncomfortable on the rocking of the ship, but he was at least used to the cold weather. After being aboard the pitching ship for several hours, he was finally getting used to the way his balance constantly readjusted. After the boring procession that was the priests blessing, and the slightly more interesting exchanging of gifts between the High King and the Captain, Jornheim was very happy to be on his way. It was lucky indeed that no one at the procession had recognized him. From here on out it would be smooth sailing, and he didn't have to worry about returning to Skyrim for a very long time. Hopefully by then things would have blown over, and he could go join a fighters guild somewhere. Mercenaries were always needed.

After spending a short time learning the ropes aboard deck, Jornheim had become comfortable with his job. Tying ropes and other hard physical jobs were not exactly exhilarating as battle, but they were enjoyable nonetheless for the simple fact that it gave him something to do. He chuckled to himself a little when the two ladies suffering from seasickness made their way shakily inside. It was quite humorous to see that some had not yet adjusted to the pitch of the boat. Thinking back to the speech that the Captain had made, Jornheim found it odd that the man had specified against racism. Surely the species of a person did not make a speck of difference in terms of what they were worth? Anyone who believed that was nothing more than a fool. Race may give some a jump start in terms of their strength, but to write off another species because of it was nothing more than lunacy. He grunted to himself as he pulled on another rope that had come loose in the wind. If the storm didn't stop soon, he was never going to get the water out of his beard. I spent all damned day working on this thing! I will look like I have a wild mess for a beard at this rate!

[Rayne7]

Graesin had listened to Captain Winterblade's words with his eyes moving over all of them as he measured the earlier seen hostility between all of them. It occurred to him that only a couple of them had little issue with race; the rest were set on being problematic. But that was the Captain's problem. Afterwards he'd avoided the blessings of the priests, having his own patron that he devoted himself to that he was certain was nothing like the others'. It wasn't until they were safely out to sea that he returned above deck, and then the blizzard came.

The sea roiled as waves rocked the ship, making him thankful for his time in the treetops that had allowed him to gain his 'sea-legs' so quickly. Snow swirled around them as two of his crewmates lurched against the side, one of which was sick while the other simply hadn't adjusted to the movement. It wasn't long before they went below-decks to escape the problems facing them above deck. Looking around, he saw the imperial looking over the side, searching for land, while another crewmate worked on the ropes. He started to help when he remembered the woman in the crow's nest, and decided to check on her.

Scaling the nets in spite of the roiling sea, he quickly jumped into the nest.

"You alright up here?" he asked over the wind and snow.

[Raindrop]

The travels had gone well, very well and the time that had passed had put Mirida to the test and quite impressed on how the crew and recruits were doing even though the unfavorable start they had have at the start of their journey they all had learned to communicate if not to be kind, atleast in a way that was somewhat professional. However cold winds had blown up and the Storm Breaker soon found themselves in the middle of a blizzard storm.

Miridas eyes shut and opened with even pauses, her good eye peeled out through the blizzard and soon she could peel something else moving in the distance, only a mere siluette, something was moving out there but she would not get the chance to shout it out before it vanished just as fast as it had been in view...

Ghosts? Mirida figured and turned to lord Winterblade, "TURN TO STARBOARD!" she quickly found herself shouting, the ghastly figure out there felt as a warning sign and something with the waters felt wrong, "ALL CREW HOLD FAST! ROUGH WAVE!" she shouted, it was a classic sailors deathtrap, the water splashing up would feel as the moistured winds of ice as the wave was countered by the Storm Breaker due to good teamwork.
"HANG IN THERE, WE COULD BREAK THROUGH THIS SHIT SOON ENOUGH IF WE KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK!!!"
Mirida shouted and as soon as she regained her balance set off to handle a couple of ropes that was going wild about.

[SikstaSlathalin]

As the rouge wave struck Allester put all his muscle into the wheel putting faith in Miri what he couldn't see. He's seen what rouge waves can do to a ship even a warship like this one. If his calculations were right they were still close to the rocky northern shore of Skyrim and if they got picked up by this wave chances were good they would be dashed against some rocky cliff. The wave struck and they survived with just an icy blast chilling them further. As the wave past they settled back into the bouncing surf for the moment they were safe but the blizzard continued it's relentless assault they were sailing mostly blind at this point. Most of their instruments were in his room and he couldn't leave the wheel to go check them he couldn't see the stars and the compass that was built into the wheel and suspended in a special type of liquid the Mages and Scholars had managed to reverse engineer from some of Calcelmo's Dwarven studies was pointing steadily east but the blizzard was stopping them from seeing any rocky outcroppings. He had studied the coastline extensively and even sailed along them himself a few times but a storm has a knack for throwing everything you know out the window and stomping it into the dirt of the road. He thought he heard someone shouting "Mer overboard!" as the wave passed but there was nothing that could be done for that poor soul now.

Keeping the ship's prow going west in the general direction of High Rock he hoped to just plough forward until the storm broke and he could gain a proper heading for them. "Put faith in the Gods and try not to die" he remembered one of his Commanders telling him when he first joined the Legion. It seems this would be just that type of situation, taking one last look at the compass he shouted over the maelstrom.
"Anyone who isn't helping the Sailors get belowdecks now and stay there!" He grunted at the effort of keeping the rudder going west without sails. The words had barely left his mouth when that same wrong feeling came to him that heralded the first rouge wave. Only this time the warning couldn't be shouted, the whole ship lurched and the crew would feel themselves being spun around and rushed forward. The wind began screeching as they were hurled through a narrow fjord, the great walls of the passage closed in around them and soon the ship crunched and ground though the jagged stones, here it was the end of the voyage. Captain Winterblade let go of the wheel and simply held onto the railing with all his might waiting for the end.

After what seemed like hours of scrapping and snapping of wood and ropes the crew felt themselves pretty much dropped into a scarily calm cove. The howling and screaming of the blizzard died down to an angry hiss coming through the narrow fjords around the cove. The quiet was so sudden and extreme Allester though he had been struck deaf by some enchantment, he struck the brass bell on the railing he was gripping just to make sure his ears were still working. The small bell tolled crisply and sounded just as disbelieving in it's own sound as Allester did. He tolled it a few more times just to make sure and each time it rang loudly and defiantly against the hissing storm outside their little safe haven the ship lulled low in the water before the distinctive sound of it being beached roared around them, now they were stuck. Wiping the hair from his eyes the Captain shook the ice off that had gathered on his body and shouted horsely to the crew.
"All hands on deck, all hands on deck!" Everyone gathered by the main mast looking varying level of wet, cold, and miserable. First thing he saw was they were down one in numbers the shouting from before made perfect sense now.
"Anyone know what has become of our other Bosmer Val Willowheart?" He asked looking around at the Crew, Pyke stepped forward his hands shaking visibly.
"Aye sir, when the first rouge wave struck he was yanked from the rope he was clutching to I shouted the alarm. Last I saw he was thrown into the icy swell. If we cast a lifeboat out now we might find him!" Pyke was the youngest Sailor and he didn't see the grim absolution the other Sailors saw in this situation. Allester shook his head coughing lightly.

"No Pyke, he's gone and any life boat out in that." He pointed to the storm still going at full fury outside the cove. "Would join him rather than save him. Our ship is damaged and we are beached, we won't sink but we also won't be going anywhere any time soon. On my orders everyone will go below decks and change into warm dry clothes NOT ARMOR and look for exactly what is damaged. By the sound and the way we sat in the water I'd guess it's mostly the prow and the cargohold that are damaged but you can never rightly tell by sound. Any damage you see report to Quartermaster Morvayn, after we have done a full circuit of the ship everyone is to return to the quarters until further notice. Keep warm and get some sleep we may be here for awhile. Myself and Jolly will come through with hot tea, warm mead, and a cauldron of broth to make sure everyone is doing just that. When the storm breaks we'll see about making a plan to get out of this mess. Officers see me in my room before going to supervise the crew. Dismissed!" He shouted coughing again nodding to everyone moving to his room to see what he could gather about their bearing.

[Jacogos]

Daimus had been less than helpful during the entire storm, mostly keeping himself to belowdecks in his 'forge', holding on to whatever he had last eaten with a grim determination. More than once he found himself face-down on the floor due to a particularly violent wave. He was glad for the solitude of his own cabin, not for the first or last time since departing Solitude.

For what seemed like weeks they sailed on through the storm, and Daimus had almost given up hope of ever feeling a calm boat beneath his feet when he felt the pitching come to an end, along with the howling that had been faintly heard through the wood. Slowly placing his own two feet firmly on the floorboards, Daimus listened out for commands. The ringing of the bell made Daimus frown momentarily, thinking that might be the call to deck.

The next moment, Daimus found himself on the ground yet again as the ship jolted to what felt like a halt, which sounded like madness. Unless... Picking himself up with a muttered curse, Daimus answered the Captain's call within moments.

The ship was run aground. Wonderful. They were beached. Sighing heavily, Daimus peered around at the cove they had managed to find themselves in, wondering just how badly they had been battered in that storm. Muttering a response to Winterblade's dismissal, the Dunmer slowly made his way towards the Captain's quarters, wondering what the man could possibly want when there was so much they needed to be doing.

Azura, why did I let Mirida drag me into this...? he asked silently, thanking his luck that the Deidra didn't answer his question he already knew the answer to.

[StormWolf]

And so the Gods made their existence known the the feeble minds of men with great fanfare, blinding clouds of sleet married with the howling winds and dipping swells of the icy sea. Still, no matter how hard the gods threw their elemental tantrum, Winterblade's Storm Breaker lived up to her name, breaking through the mighty swells of black water like an axe through bone. Listing left and right, to and fro, the mighty vessel held together as her crew scrambled and skittered across the drenched deck, heeding the Lord-Captain's orders to the best of their ability.

Starkad Long-Fang had taken up tying down a wrist-thick rope that draped down from the center mast of the ship, squinting his eyes to protect them from the knife-like sleet that assaulted his leathery skin. The talk of the fortune of the Gods and beseeching them to answer prayers agitated the Nord like rock in the shoe, something that would continue to nibble at him once he noticed it. Starkad lost the gift of faith many years ago, and while he believed the gods to be real, he just had no interest in meeting immortal beings so selfish and cruel. It would be a bad day for Akatosh should Starkad ever get his hands around that scaly neck. Outwardly, Starkad's face cracked into a half-mad grin at the thought as he tied a sailor's knot in the rope.

Moving to look about the rest of the deck, Starkad took notice of the web of ropes and cables. The weather would not be good for them, and the crew would likely need to club the ice out of the ropes before the day was out, otherwise they would get brittle and be much more prone to snapping under strain. As if one of the Divines heard Starkad's thoughts and saw fit to slap the towering golden-maned man upside the head with them as a rope snapped nearby. Leaping into action, muscles protesting against the cold, Starkad gripped the ice-impregnated rope with his right hand, feeling the jagged nubs of ice and frost on the twisted cable. The biting cold was off-set by the welling of warmth from Starkad's palm as the ice drew blood, shredding the inside of his hand. Starkad did not wince or cry out, but merely furrowed his brow in disdain as his soaked hair whipped about by the four winds.

"Nary a bloody day at sea and I already miss my gods' damned mountain!" Starkad murmured in frustration as he pulled the cable taught, muscles rising in ridges against his skin, swelling as blood rushed through his arms and legs. His body pushed against the rolling of the ship while pulling the rope to where it was originally tied, redoing the knot with a white-knuckle grip on the rope. With that ordeal done, Starkad wiped his hair from his face, unknowingly smearing his brow in blood.

The blizzard seemed to fade over time, however, as the Lord-Captain brought the ship into a fjord-flanked cove, using the bosom of Skyrim herself as an aegis against the elemental wrath of the gods. The Storm Breaker came ashore roughly, causing those of the crew not prepared or those without their sea-legs. Starkad was able to compensate for the most part, but he needed to rely on the port handrail for a small portion of the change in momentum. Hearing the Lord-Captain's orders, Starkad nodded wordlessly. Before going below decks to change, Starkad tore away a piece of his tunic at the sleeve and tied the fabric around his shredded palm. Just something to keep the blood from continuing to flow out of his hand. He would need a sure grip, he expected. Going downstairs, Starkad stripped himself down bare and ran a towel over himself. He had spent years in the co-gendered barracks of the StormCloaks and Starkad was a man comfortable and sure enough of himself that he felt no awkwardness being naked in front of others, even if just for a fleeting moment. Pulling on a fresh loincloth, Starkad pulled on a new tunic, gambeson, trousers, socks, and finally strapped on his fur-lined leather jerkin again before strapping his weapons back to his waist and back.

Returning to the deck of the Storm Breaker, Starkad moved to the handrails, peeking over at the pale sand and dark waters. Taking an armful of coiled rope, Starkad tossed the length of rope overboard, tying his end to the handrail of the ship. The hull of the ship would need to be inspected, but more so, a perimeter would need to be established to ensure the safety of the ship and its passengers. "Got a mind for a shore party, Lord-Captain? I would be lying if I said I'd prefer real soil beneath my feet." Starkad called out the Lord-Captain Winterblade, hoping to secure a spot off of the ship while they were aground.

[Rayne7]

The going was rough up in the crow's nest as Grasein had found, and he had nearly gone overboard himself. When they had drifted into the cove, he could easily be seen holding onto the net that hung below, though no one could say how or when he had reached it. The bosmer archer looked around in the aftermath from his perch above the others, and he could already see some of the damage done before the captain had even spoke. Dropping down from the net, he landed on the deck with the grace attributed to elves, and looked to the captain as he gave orders.

He started to go below decks when the mountain Nord came above deck, and spoke of a scouting party. Raising an eyebrow, he looked to the Captain with the question written on his face rather than in his thoughts. The prospect of scouting without armor was one that he disliked, and what he wore was the only armor he owned. It was one problem about traveling light that apparently wasn't the smartest thing to do when traveling aboard ship. Regardless, he was willing and ready to go ashore immediately if need be.

He waited for the captain's response.

[SikstaSlathalin]

The Captain was checking the railings when he heard Stark's question about a scouting party. Honestly that was something he was going to arrange once everyone was changed and they began inspecting the ship but getting the lay of the land as soon as possible wouldn't be a bad idea. He nodded to Ice Wolf noticing Grasein hanging in the back.
"Very well Ice Wolf, I'll leave you in charge of the scouting party take Khinada, Isus, Jornheim, and Grasein along with you and scout out as far as you can while still staying within sight of the ship. If I remembered the maps right we might be on the island of Roscrea but only the Gods truly know for sure. Wear your warmest clothes and bring your weapons but still no armor that's an order, I don't expect much trouble but it's still cold out there and that'll kill you just as easily as an enemy if you're wearing soaked clothing. This outpost was being recolonized by Solitude late in the 3rd Era so there might be something left to salvage. Report back within the hour if you find anything."

With the order given Allester continued to his cabin beating Daimus there and already stripping off his wet clothes tossing them into his sea bag and pulling out another white shirt, black undercoat, green jacket with fur wrapped around the shoulders and he selected his black fur-lined boots slipping them on after the heavy wool socks. Now dressed he pulled out the charts, instrument, and a book on Lost races searching over it all making calculations his brow furrowed heavily with something between worry and paranoia.

[StormyNyte]

When the first rouge wave hit, Khinada had to cling to the side of her bunk to keep from being thrown off. With a groan, she heaved again, but purged no more from her body. Trying to settle back into her bunk, she was caught completely unaware by the second rouge wave that crashed into the ship. With a startled cry, she flew from her bunk and half rolled across the floor, coming to a halt when her back slammed against the next bunk in the row.

Before she could recover, she was projected forward against her own bunk as the sound of the ship beaching assaulted her ears. The horrible sounds of scrapping and snapping seemed to go on for hours before she felt the ship finally come to rest. Clinging to the side of her bunk and panting heavily, she listened unmoving for a long while not trusting the sudden calm. It wasn’t until she heard the call for all hands on deck that she finally mustered herself to rise and make her way on deck.

When it was revealed that they were one man short, she looked back out to sea and shivered. The sudden realization that it could have easily been anyone hit her like a giant’s club, she could scarcely imagine her last moments being a futile struggle to stay afloat in that horrible icy surf. Swallowing hard, she nodded at the captain’s command and headed back below deck to change into warmer and drier clothes.

Removing her brown cloak, she shook it out with a snap and inspected it for a moment before satisfying herself that it was still dry enough to keep the chill off. Tossing it on her bedding, she proceeded to change into one of her spare sets of smallclothes, tunic, and breeches. Lastly, she pulled on her boots and slipped her cloak back around her shoulders. Once dressed, she went to her sea chest and withdrew her satchel, filling it with a few lock-picks and a couple various potions, just in case there came a need to use them. The captain had specifically ordered no armor, which was something she didn’t feel too comfortable with, but he said nothing about weapons. Belting on her daggers and steel sword, she made her way back outside.

Her ears perked when she overheard Starkad and the captain speaking of a shore party. It brought a small grin to her face, but she tried to keep herself from getting overly excited. Making her way to the railing, she gripped the rope that the huge Nord had slung over the side. In a lowered voice, she spoke out to him. “Khinada is most pleased to be part of this shore party, perhaps she will get a chance to return your favor in Solitude.” That said, she crossed over the railing and shimmied her way down to the beach below. They were told to inspect the ship for damage, though Khinada had little idea about the different parts of ships she was not about to pass up a chance to walk on a surface that didn’t heave and rock beneath her.

Once on the beach, she couldn’t help feeling a little more comfortable. She gazed out over the dark cove for a moment, letting her night eyes adjust to their surroundings before proceeding with her novice inspection. She went slowly, eyes carefully studying each inch of wood for possible cracks or obvious problems. Once she made it around to the bow, she looked over her shoulder to watch the tree line beyond. She couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, but dismissed it as her nerves still being a bit raw from their rough landing. Keeping her ears sharp, she continued around to the far side of the ship and frowned lightly at what she saw. Wedged tightly between the bottom of the ship and the beach was a rather large rock. She couldn’t tell from out here how much damage that had caused, but she did spy a sizable crack in the wood.

Shaking her head, she made her way back to the side where the rope had been dropped. Glancing up toward the deck, cupped her mouth and called to the rest still on board. "Someone tell the Quartermaster, there is a big rock and a large crack on the port side!" Just then, the faint sound of a snapping twig brought her head around to stare once again into the tree line. Something was out there, but what? If she rose an alarm over something as harmless as a deer, she would never hear the end of it, but still… A soft growl rolled out from the back of her throat as she reached for her sword's hilt. “Something is out there and it is watching us…” She contemplated climbing back onto the ship for safety, but dismissed it as a cowardice idea. Instead, she stood her ground and silently willed the others to hurry in joining her.

[Imperial1917]

Isus had just completed the 41st Litiny of the Wind when the storm broke and the ship made it to port. Or at least, a cove. It certainly was no place of proper docking from what Isus could see over the railing. Something has obscured his vision, preventing him from spotting it before landfall was already made.

He frowned as the captain ordered the sailors and mercenaries to change out of their armor. To remove the soaked clothing was wise, but to refuse them armor might not have been as. The crew had not earned trust. Still, he was the captain and Isus was bound to serve.

Before he could leave the deck, however, he heard the exchange between the captain and the Nordic man-mountain. It seemed that the captain had plans for them. Why he didn't want them taking armor into a potentially hostile situation, Isus didn't know. Well, at least Men outnumbered Beast and Mer. The captain got that right. Still, it was strange that there were no officers in this particular expedition. The captain must trust one of them very well. Probably the man-mountain. Something to note.

Descending into the ship's quarters, he opened his sea chest and changed into dry clothes. The new clothes consisted of a great grey cloak over dry normal clothes complete with a hood. The sleeves rolled down past his hands, which suited him fine as he still wore Wraithguard on his right arm and his Imperial Templar bracer on this left. He removed a small bag from the chest. It contained his previous purchases. To them he added some of the dried meats and other items. He carefully stowed the bag inside his cloak, tying it into place. He kept his belt, as it contained important items including his sword sheath and, of course, his sword. He stowed the rest of his armor and the wet effects he didn't need into the sea chest and locked it again, still using enchantments as well as the normal lock.

Ascending to the deck once more, Isus noted that his cloak didn't quite reach the wet wood. That was a double-sided blade if he ever saw one. Still, nothing to be done about it. He went to the kitchen and retrieved a flask of water from the cook. Then, thinking about it, he took three more. Emerging again into the pale daylight, he looked about and nodded to the Nordic man-mountain. He was ready.

[TsukiHime]

Sovia get frightened when the first wave hit, She grip the side of the ship so hard that her hands goes from ivory to white. She keep thinking that this will be the end of her life when the blizzard hit and she hear the captain yell that whoever isnt a sailor go to below deck.

Wait..am I a sailor..?? No I am not.. I am just a failure altmer.. so does that make me counted as non sailor..?? Sovia thought and she decides that she is going to the below deck. Lucky for her the door is not really far away, she slowly and carefully walk to the door but the wave hit again makes her hard to stay in good balance. Sovia feet slip and she slide fastly to the door with a shriek of panic "Eeeekkk..!!!".

Luck seems to be in Sovia favor when she slide right through the door and landed with her ass on the floor , Sovia rub it while wincing. She hurry goes to below deck and wait for the storm and the wave to stop with closed eyes, She keep praying and she is hoping that this ship safely land somewhere safe.

[Raindrop]

Quick about the captains orders as they had fallen to a stop with the ship inside some kind of cove Mirida got down and changed her cloths as fast as she could, she came to a short halt however, her left shoulder still hurt from the fight before they left the shores of Solitude, it was a clear scar and during the second wave Mirida had gotten thrown around rather good and had to grab a rope with just her left arm. Miridas wound had then partially been reopened by the force of this wave, it hurt, mostly with a stinging feeling and heavy pulse, it was not a flowing blood wound but undoubtedly this was part of the Fefheirs weapon properties doing. It looked darker then her flesh usually did, it was not a good sign.
Wrapping her thoughts back together leaving her concerned expression behind her she changed into thick cloths, a heavy fur cloak in white, as well as exchanging her bandage layers before this.

Worries did brew in Miridas mind, never before had her trust had such a slow start and fine, it was going alright with the crew, she still felt as if the responded to her weakly, this had to be to the fight before, they would not be capable of comprehending the strength of a foul man Fefheir, or perhaps though she hid her weakness well enough, they till felt she was not quite herself... This had to change, all shall see that Mirida is not your common Nord woman.

Final she would arrive in Lord Winterblades cabin shortly after getting dressed, standing silently in order to get addressed to.

[StormWolf]

The corner of Starkad's mouth twitched in what could be interpreted as a split-second smirk as the Lord-Captain gave orders for the shore party, putting Starkad in charge to boot. It had been a while since Starkad had commanded anything, but he still fondly remembered his time commanding platoons of Stormcloaks against the red legions of the Imperials and the gold-clad Dominion.

"As you say, Lord-Captain." Starkad said in his usual deep voice. Turning to the crew milling about the drenched deck, Starkad called out to those who Lord-Captain Winterblade commanded join the shore party.

"Isus, Jornheim, Grasein!" Starkad barked out, "We're going for a walk." Making sure he had gotten their attention and they were on their way. He knew some of them better than others, Khinada being the one he was probably most acquainted with. She was the only Khajiit female on board, and probably the only crew member he had anything that could resemble a rapport. Khinada was already beside him anyways, eagerly looking over the rails to the shore below. He couldn't help but chuckle when she spoke of repaying her debt to him. What debt? Standing up for her? The large Nord shook his head, tousling his drenched mane.

"I would not call doing the right thing a favor, Khinada. Just do not make me regret vouching your honor, aye?" Starkad said in a flat voice, his eyes locking with hers. One could take it as a serious request or a joke. Starkad simply wished to not be made a fool. From all he had seen, Khinada was an honorable young woman, and he would treat her as such until proven wrong. Everyone reaps what they sow. "Now come, to the shore." he said, letting Khinada go first. She was the fastest out of all of them. Such was one of the distinct advantages of the Khajiit, stereotypes aside. Vaulting over the rails after her, Starkad rappelled down the side of the ship, landing in shin deep water of the shallow shore. Wading through the froth of the tide and onto the beach, Starkad surveyed his surroundings as the rest of the party would eventually join them. He turned his nose to the air and tested the scents on the wind. The marine layer was too thick. Everything was draped in the scent of salt. He scanned the beach perimeter while Khinada surveyed the damage to the hull and the others began to join them down on the beach. Beyond the ocean mist and the dark tree line, there indeed was something. Sets of eyes watching them, studying the intruders on its land. Starkad raised his hand to the pommel of his greatsword, wrapping his thick fingers around the grip. With the dull grating of steel against leather, Starkad drew his steel greatsword, resting the mighty weapon in his broad shoulder.

"I feel it too, Khinada. Eyes and ears sharp, everyone." Starkad growled lowly.

[Malificar]

Jornheim was thankful for the opportunity to get off the deck of the ship and into something warm. He decided to go with some of his thicker wools, due to the cold temperature of the land outside. Going prone, Jornheim took out the Skyforged steel sword that he had placed there, and retrieved his shield. If there were only going to be four of them journeying off in this area, he wanted to be well equipped for whatever awaited them, and the steel sword that he normally used just would not cut it. Checking to make sure he had everything that was needed, Jornheim quickly proceeded back up to the deck. He did not know much about this Starkad, but he had looked to be a strong fighter, and if the captain had put him in command, the man can't be an idiot. Resigning himself to a long night without rest, and Jornheim was not looking foreward to it.

Once upon the shore with the other members of the crew, Jornheim took his customary position at the front of the line. He was not leading, but it was best to lead with the biggest one of the group, especially if they were to be fighting ranged opponents. It would not do for the one with orders to get shot in the head from some unseen assailant in the woods. Considering those strange eyes looking out from the woods, and with the leader drawing his greatsword, Jornheim's nerves were set on edge, and he felt the coming of the battle rage.Turning to Starkad, he asked: "Where are we going? Is this to be a simple scouting mission, or is there some other motivation to our mission? There is something wrong with this place, and if we are getting into a fight, I would wish to know of it before hand."

[Rayne7]

Having disappeared as soon as the Captain had spoken, Graesin had changed into dry clothing and came back on deck fully armed with his bow, swords, and daggers. While the Captain seemed to have faith that there would be nothing to worry about, the Bosmer had other ideas, and preferred to be ready for any eventuality. That being said, he had one last duty to attend; speaking of the damage he'd seen from above to a crew member, he made sure they left for the First Mate with his message before leaping from the ship onto the ground below.

Seeing the others, he said nothing, observing the forest around them. Sensing the eyes, he drew his bow and knocked an arrow, ready to draw and fire at a moment's notice. He looked to the large mountain of a Nord that had been placed in charge, catching his eye before nodding. Something was watching, and it seemed threatening. But whatever saw them had an advantage; it was hidden and in a more defensible position, which was the only reason his arrow wasn't drawn.

And so he waited.

[SikstaSlathalin]

*Winterblade*

As Daimus and Miri joined him Lord Winterblade was rubbing his eyes putting his instruments aside, his journal was opened to the section titled "Lost Mer: Snow Elves." his strong smooth hand ran across the pages quoting passages from obscure books only the Lord's untiring determination could find, little notes jotted down in the margins following rumors and old folk tales. There wasn't much but what he did have confirmed his worries.
"We are indeed on Roscrea, but we are also in one of the rumoured last bastions of the thought to be extinct Snow Elves, not the Falmer mind you the actual civilised and cultured Snow Elves who's society rivals the Altmers in it's scope and magical prowess. That's all I've found though anything else on them has either been destroyed or lost in some cave in the middle of Atmora. Now I don't know if they'll be violent or peaceful or even if they'll even be here but that's why I sent our best mercs out to scout the beach even without armor they should be able to handle most anything else but without armor the Snow Elves might not get the urge to call invasion and kill us all. Any ideas for this?" He sighed sitting heavily down in his chair popping the top on some mead and sipping it slowly.


*Knight-Paladin Volare*

"The other sentries were right sir, tis a Nordic War Vessel, but it's not outfitted for war nor is it carrying any of the usual soldiers. Aside from a few of them no one on the vessel really look like warriors." Lead Scout Malfi said in the difficult Snow Elf language crouching down besides his leader a beautifully made white metal bow slung across his back and his simple white shrouded armor of the Snow Elf scouts, and a pair of Stalhrim daggers dangling off his belt. The Knight-Paladin nodded his long white hair done up in a ponytail bobbed slightly responding in the same language.
"Curious, what were they doing before you came to me?"
"A band of five have set foot on the beach, they are armed but no one is wearing any armor. I told the others to hold back and wait for your orders. I think they just got caught in the storm and landed by accident, but some of the more gossipy warriors think it's something to do with Arch-Curate Millira's vision."

Volare glared at the Scout.
"Keep that talk to a minimum, the last thing we need is everyone getting their hopes up for something that might just be lost sailors. Bring me some skilled volunteers and have everyone else hang back behind the tree line I'll talk with these outsiders myself." The Lead Scout nodded disappearing into the thick trees. The Knight-Paladin went into the direction of the beach and crouched watching the outsiders. From his knowledge of races there were two large Nords, a Khajiit, an Imperial, and the long lost cousin of his people a Bosmer. Narrowing his eyes he saw others moving on deck but he couldn't tell what they were. Remembering the common tongue as best as he could he waited for the others to join him.

[Jacogos]

Daimus stared at his Captain for a long moment, mouth slightly agape. A deep, thoughtful frown quickly replaced his open-mouthed stare before the Captain finished for him to speak.

"The Falmer? The Falmer? I know rumor said the Dragonborn met one durin' that whole Dawnguard farce, but there are supposed to be actual livin' Snow Elves here? You'd think this would be much more well-known," Daimus drawled incredulously. His frown became more thoughtful as he regarded the words his Captain had finished with.

"Even without the armor, you told 'em to be armed. Armed is still dangerous to anyone who wants ta see someone as such. I'm no military type, but if we know they're here, I'll go wave the white flag meself." It was plain that the Captain's news unnerved the Dunmer. They were a fully crewed ship and well-armed to boot, but they would not hold out against a group of antagonistic Falmer under the best of times. So distrusting of one another were they that this was hardly the best of times. However, an idea came to him that he hoped might save their skins, widening his eyes a little bit.

"Cap'n, I'd like to request going ashore with the scouts. If they run afoul of the Snow Elves, I'm probably the most well experienced in dealing with people as diplomatically as possible." Daimus paused, smirking a little. "I'm a blacksmith first, but a merchant second, Winterblade." He knew how to smooth talk a customer with the best of them. "I might even be able to secure us some help with fixin' the ship up."

[StormyNyte]

Khinada resisted the urge to draw her blade, but never took her eyes off the treeline, even when the other mountain of a Nord, Jornheim, dropped to shore and started to question Starkad. With her ears perked forward, she took a few long strides away from the others and strained to listen. It was hard to pull her focus away from the voices and lapping waves behind her, but as she concentrated she could just barely make out the faint sound of hushed voices. She frowned at that, eyes narrowing as she backed herself back toward the ship. Khinada was one of the best sneaks she knew, but as much as she loved to sculk and spy she loathed having others sculk and spy on her. Turning toward the two Nords, she spoke quietly so as not to let her voice carry. "Humanoids. Two, maybe more. Khinada barely hears them. She may be able to slip around and sneak a closer look at who we're dealing with." The last was said while eyeing Starkad, waiting for his word on the matter. Being quite the free spirit, she never truly liked being led by anyone but she wasn't about to arm-wrestle the man over the matter.

[TsukiHime]

Sovia feel that the Ship already calm enough as she slowly walk out to see, she look around in awe and notice that it seems some people arent here. Sovia think it must be safe to land as she walk down from the ship to the beach, she look around thinking that this island must be unoccupied island. Sovia feel relax and glad "Well i guess some people gathering food and water for the ship" she says innocently. Sovia strecth her body "I am glad the first island is not scary at all.. there are no monsters.. ghosts.." she says with that innocent face of her and walk again a little bit far from the ship while the wave touch her feet over and over again.

[Aureyon]

Snowfall rushed through the forest, as silent as a panther, but as fast as a cheetah. She had gotten word of Outsiders on the shores of Roscea, and she was curious to see them. She had been cut off from the outside since being born on this forsaken Island and she wanted to see what the world had to offer; She had to see.

She wasn't necessarily supposed to be with the scouting party, but she chose to come along anyway. Though she was a great distance away from the main party; She could still hear them talking in hushed tones. However, she couldn't quite see the outsiders just yet, though she could see a massive outline through the light Snowfall that covered the Island.

She stopped at the edge of the treeline, a few hundred feet away from the main scouting party. And, she peered around the tree to see what the outsiders looked like; and her mind reeled as her eyes fell upon a group of creatures that she had not heard of before. She was never allowed to read of the outside world from the books that her father owned.

It had always been a policy of her fathers, to shelter her from the knowledge of the outside world, and have her ignorant of what lay beyond the snowy landscape of Roscea. It was the main reason she wanted to get out and see what the world had to offer her; Since her father wouldn't allow her to read of the outside world, she would have to learn for herself.

She stepped just outside of the treeline so that she could get a better view of the outsiders, but still managed to be half hidden from the groups vision.

"What are they? I see Elves, but those other creatures; They are no elves.", She spoke in the harsh language of the Falmer to herself.

[SikstaSlathalin]

*Knight-Paladin Volare*

The other Snow Elves were gathered and Volare was leading them towards the beach when he spotted Snowfall skulking around the treeline watching the new arrivals.
Clenching his teeth he walked up speaking quietly but with authority in the Falmer tongue.
"Damn it girl, I'm pretty sure you were told to stay back in the Bastion! Grr no matter, just stick close. I'm going to talk with these outsiders."


*Winterblade*

Allester could see his quartermaster's point, the warriors he sent ashore were all good fighters but not the most diplomatic, he knew he could rely on Stark's common sense to not attack a group of well-armed Elves on their home turf. An Officer would make a better impression than a bunch of mercs at least one of them would stab an Elf first then ask questions. Standing up he sighed putting his instruments and such away before moving to the door.
"You're right Daimus, but I will go. You're needed to begin assessing the ship's issues. And they'd come looking for me anyway once they found us. Miri you're in charge of the ship until I get back, if things get bad fight we won't be able to run from them on this island." With that he exited the cabin and jumped down besides the party just as he noticed Sovia slinking off. He had to bite back the urge to scream at her, she was young and had never been out in the wild like this before. He couldn't fully expect her to know the right thing to do. He decided to go tell her as nicely as possible to get back aboard before she got killed when she walked onto a frozen pond near the trees. He saw it happen in slow motion, the ice cracked and the young Altmer began falling but a strong armoured hand lanced out of the trees and grabbed her by the back of her robes and pulled her into the trees.

Allester drew his sword and took a determined step towards the trees ready to call the atack but his words were caught in his throat as a group of six genuine Snow Elves walked out with Sovia walking with them, scared but alive. The mer that looked to be the leader held up his hands in a peaceful manner and spoke in the common tongue he had a rather Nordly rough accent with that gentle elven tounge fluid like water creating a rather, in its way exotic speech.
"Stand down Captain, we mean you know harm as long as you mean us none."
Lord Winterblade nodded to the Snow Elf motioning for his crew to stand down.
"Very well, you have my word."
"I am Knight-Paladin Volare, who are you, what is your ship, and where are you from?" The Elf asked scanning over the faces behind the Captain.
"I am Lord-Captain Allester Winterblade, we are the crew of the Nordic Warship the Storm Breaker we left port in Solitude earlier today."
The Knight-Paladin nodded.
"What is your purpose here, you're too well-armed and varied to be a normal Merchant ship from Skyrim."
"We are on an exploritory mission by the royal decree of High-King Ulfric Stormcloak to create an up-to-date map of Tamriel and the surrounding landmasses. The storm tore us from our course and landed our ship here and in need of repair, can we ask for your assistence or at least your leave to gather our own building supplies from your island?" Allester was doing his best to sound respectful but not helpess or needy, he didn't know how much these Elves hated outsiders and the last thing he needs is to put himself or his crew at the complete mercy of the some vicious Warlord.

Volare listened to the Nord's words seeing no deception in his body language nor sensing any in his voice.
"That is up to Arch-Curate Millira, she is our leader. You may bring your crew if you wish it will be a long night and the Bastion is warmer than your ship."
"I will gather them and see what will be done. Come on everyone." He motioned to the young girl and the mercs beside him and started back for the ship.

[TsukiHime]

Sovia almost fall from the ice when some people help her, she notice that they are elves, snow elves. Dear me.. if father see me being helped by snow elves.. he will drown me him self.. Sovia thought with shudder and also relieved that her father is not there to see it.

Sovia changes her opinion about this island is not dangerous at all, this island IS dangerous. Sovia feel like want to cry and look down when Lord Winterblade lead them back to the ship. she feel like she is better to be drown rather than facing Lord winterblade anger for her stupid and silly action. Sovia is wondering if she will get punished later and she shiver a little with the thought of what punishment she will receive.

[Raindrop]

Mirida nodded, "Aye aye Lord Captain.", every movement stung and went through her like a stream of pain, she bit it together not giving a slightest sign of weakness.

Turning around and outside on deck she started screaming commands and ordering people to their posts that they are suppose to have when docked, all that at least was possible in a stranded situation, "NO ONE LEAVES OR ENTERS THIS SHIP WITHOUT MY PERMISSION EXCEPT LORD CAPTAIN HIMSELF! GOT IT MEN!?" Mirida yelled, getting a harmonized OORA! in response. She was professional and anytime she felt pumped which was generally when she got to yell at everyone, she no longer felt pain and all in her was in depth fire and embers sparking and just waiting to burst into a flaming inferno of loath and warrior instincts. Mirida would soon have to rebind her wounded shoulder and perhaps take a little warm meal before the others would.

Though their numbers were messy and by now already down by one she could not help but to wait for a brighter day to the sea. Everyone seemed already to be happy to be at land, which is darn typical, they are not men and women suited for sea but that was going to change, anytime someone else would complain about standing with their feet on the sea she would double time their work and have them get damn used to it. Mirida would rather not have weaklings under her, especially considering her own situation.

[Rayne7]

Graesin had watched the entire encounter with the snow elves with suspicion, keeping his bow ready as he listened. From what he could tell, they were at least willing to be diplomatic for the moment, and that boded well for the time being. But that wasn't a guarantee for future peace. As far as he was concerned, the conditions under which they had arrived weren't what he'd call a good omen, quite the opposite in fact. But places that followed a single religion tended not to welcome people of a more diverse culture. So the momentary peace did nothing to alleviate his concerns.

As they walked away, Graesin studied the two groups, the snow elves and the mercs that had came ashore before he stepped up his pace so that he stood beside the captain to express his concern. "Milord, perhaps it's not my place to speak, but would it be wise to take a large force ashore all at once? As peaceful as they are now, they could decide to take us hostage, and with no one remaining here there'd be no help coming. If they did decide to take us, would it not be better to have people on the outside who could cause enough harassment that they might slip their guard or else stage a rescue for those on the inside?"

It was a matter of security. If a small diplomatic party were to go ashore and be taken hostage, an outside force could theoretically wreak havoc on the elves and possibly stage a rescue or go back to Skyrim for reinforcements before leading them back. Either way, the wood-elf figured that as much as showing trust in turn gained trust, it was better to play it safe. That being said, he wasn't sure the Captain hadn't already thought of that, but he wanted to make sure. Besides, if he was to trust those around him, he needed to know they were competent enough to think things through completely, consider all the options, and make the best both for diplomacy and tactically.

[Aureyon]

Snowfall watched silently as the introductions between her people and the strangers began. She was easily able to understand what the outsiders were saying, and then she heard a shouting aboard the ship; A woman at the sound of it, and she sounded none to happy. Snowfall sprinted towards the ship, without a second thought, avoiding the group of outsiders, and leaped aboard the ship; Missing the railing and rolling into a standing position on the deck of the ship.

She eyed the crew members, her blue eyes filled with curiosity as she looked at the men and women. Her eyes zeroed in on Mirida, who had sought to hide the pain her wound was causing her, but Snowfall was a somewhat skilled healer and she could tell the wound bothered her. She made her way through the crew members, ignoring their attempts at trying to stop her; One man grabbed her arm, and she twisted one-hundred eighty degrees and swept his footing out from underneath him, his body hitting the ground with a heavy thud.

She had made it to where Mirida was standing and she gently laid her right hand, cold at the touch, on Mirida's skin; It was hot, and that was saying something considering the weather,

"You need healing, Outsider.", concern thick in her voice as she eyed the wound. She spoke the common tongue quite easily, considering she was a Snow Elf. She would likely get in trouble if her father found out about her being able to speak the Common tongue, but she was more concerned for this woman at the moment.

Awaiting an answer from the woman, she eyed the ship with curious eyes. A small smile playing upon her lips, as she imagined the feeling of traversing the Sea to lands unknown to her; She looked around the ship and her eyes again returned to the woman awaiting the answer to her statement.

[StormWolf]

Before Starkad could utter a response to the inquiry of his shore party, whatever it was that had been stalking beyond the brush revealed itself - or themselves. Falmer. Snow Elves of ages long passed emerged, armed to the teeth. They moved with a definite purpose, so Starkad remained statuesque as ever, gripping the hilt of his greatsword with both his hands. He had heard legends of the Snow Elves, many sounded like no more than tall tales, but all legends and myths had roots in truth. Ever since the return of the dragons and the Dragonborn in turn, Starkad was open to believing much more than he had previously. Despite the difference in the myths and legends of the long-lost Falmer, one variable remained constant - they are dangerous.

The Lord-Captain Winterblade made a prompt appearance on the beach as soon as the Falmer made themselves known, which was a great relief to Starkad. He was never one to do the diplomatic talk. He spoke the universal language of violence with great proficiency and eloquence when diplomatic measures failed. Such was Starkad's purpose in the Stormcloak Rebellion, where he could seem to orchestrate the chaos of battle with the singing steel of his mighty sword. The Ice Wolf watched and listened as Lord Winterblade and the leader of the Falmer party spoke to one another peacefully, but hardly so. Tones were terse and cautious. Neither party trusted the other, yet through some twisting of his silver tongue, Lord Winterblade was able to convince the Falmer to let the crew come and speak to the Falmer leader for permission to get supplies. That was, however, before one of the Snow Elf women broke off from their formation and ran to the ship.

"Runner!" Starkad yelled up to the ship before raising his sword to his right shoulder, resting the flat of the blade on his collar bone and leaning back on his right leg. The Wrath Guard. The running Snow Elf woman was already too far away for Starkad to catch up, but he watched the remaining Falmer with a very aggressive caution. With the combined reach of his arms and the length of his sword, he easily had any of the Falmer in his reach for a devastating strike.

"What is the meaning of this? Explain, before someone on our crew does something just as stupid." Growled Starkad, his face scrunched up in a wolfish snarl, his nostrils flaring and sinister wrinkles formed around the corners of his eyes. The next Snow Elf that took a step out of line would find steel becoming a very intimate part of their anatomy. This much was very clear.

[Raindrop]

There was not a single second of hesitation when a snow elf had made it aboard on the ship, she was stunning for her kin but deadly as a viper when she fell one of the crew to the ground and made her way towards Mirida and the moment the snow elf touched Mirida, Mirida had drawn her sword and jumped back "STAY AWAY STRANGER!!!" Mirida growled, "Touch me one more time and this blade will see itself through your gut!" She stated, dead serious and defensively put.

How the hell had she seen Mirida being wounded, she was no fool of an snow elf, or rather, Falmer...
"What does a Falmer on my Lord Captains ship and at that, throwing random crap out of her mouth about my health?" Mirida was defensive, this was a public matter up on board the ship she was the boss and did not wish to show her current weakness to the rest of the crew, she was fine, well at least she managed by without slowing down any notably. "Leave the ship at once or face death by my blade... Stranger." Mirida was cooling down now after her now defiled pride had been taken a shot at by this, Falmer. Mirida had only started off with words because she was set on following Lord Captains orders, that is all the reason why this Falmer was yet alive to her.

[StormyNyte]

The events that unfolded happened much too quick for Khinada’s liking. The captain had come to shore himself, their resident Altmer nearly fell through an iced over pond, and the watchers suddenly made themselves known. They were a strange looking bunch. Mer, but no Mer the Khajiit had ever laid eyes on; they looked cold and seemed to have a deadly grace about them.

Before her tension could ease, though, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye just as Starkad raised the alarm. Like a flash, Khinada wheeled and gave chase with one hand clutching the Nord’s own ax. He’d likely not miss it right now anyway, and if it came to a fight, Khinada preferred to wield something in both hands. As quick and quiet as a shadow, the Khajiit slipped back over the railing and swept up behind the Snow Elf woman.

Speaking with a soft purr as the ax’s blade appeared under the Mer’s jaw and the point of her own steel sword pressed into her back, she cooed. “Perhaps it is best not to rush so heedlessly into unfamiliar situations, yes? One does not simply walk up as a stranger and place their hands on the First Mate so carelessly…” Truth be told, her own sensitive nose could smell the state of Mirida’s wounds, but she knew better than to call the Nord woman out on it. Her gaze flickered to Mirida for an instant before going back to the Mer’s startled face. “Perhaps we can all take a step back from this and begin again properly. There is no need for bloodshed this day, friend.”

[SikstaSlathalin]

In seconds the Captain's fear about doing this came true, it seems the Priests didn't bless them well enough or they just didn't care because a Snow Elf leapt aboard quite easily put down Lars with a leg sweep and approached Mirida nearly laying a hand on her speaking of an injury in his First Mate's shoulder. The situation was fucked then but it only got better. Miri reacted just as expected with aggression that not only spurred Starkard probably the single most dangerous merc in the crew to react with suspicion and aggression but made the rest of his crew to jump to arms without his order half went to the railings notching arrows, loading rocks and bolts into slings and crossbows while the rest surrounded the young Snow Elf but Khinada actually grabbed the young Mer and held an ax to her neck which made the remainder of Volare's squad jump to arms and form a half-circle around the scout party screaming orders in broken common tngue throwing a fair number of Falmer words into the mix.

This was one wrong step away from a bloodbath his crew would lose, but thankfully this whole shit storm had two veteran leaders in it. Allester and Volare locked eyes and the unspoken language of leadership decided it. You control your fighters and I'll control mine. In a flash Allester spun on the scouts putting his hand out to stop them before shouting at the top of his lungs.
"By my order all of you are to stand down immediately! Stand down!" The crew did with great reluctance. As this was happening Volare showed first the brutality of Snow Elf training he was upon his group nailing each of the warriors with a small shit of electric destruction magicka, not enough to kill but enough numb the part of their bodies he struck and make them nearly drop their weapons. The young woman was too far away for him to shock but with a nod from Winterblade they jumped aboard and the Knight-Paladin screamed at the girl in Falmer after Allester ordered the Khajiit to release the young woman.
Damn it Snowfall, play nursemaid in your own time. And not at all with the Outsiders. They can heal themselves, you already have a counselling meeting with the Arch-Curate about your disobedience now you can explain this to her and your father! Get back in line now!" Knowing she'd do as she was told he turned to the Captain and sighed deeply.
"My deepest apoligies Captain Winterblade, she's always been impetuous ever since when my brother and his wife brought her back from the Infirmary. She'll be punished I promise you. Since one of mine caused this much trouble, I extend to all of you a formal invitation to spend the night in the Bastion as compensation, your ship and everything in it will be safe." He walked up to his niece and firmly grabbed the back of her armor and dragged her away much like you'd do with a bad child. The Lord nodded waving for everyone to relax.
"Everyone make ready, we are accepting his offer."

[StormyNyte]

When Captain Allester and the Knight-Paladin both suddenly appeared on board and voiced their displeasure, Khinada withdrew the blades from the young Mer with great haste; ears lowered and upper torso hunched in a slight subservient manner as she backed away, murmuring softly. "Most sincere apologies. Khinada meant no harm, she only feared unfavorable intentions toward our First Mate." Once at a respectable distance away, she straightened before sheathing her sword and tucking the haft of the ax through her belt.

Glancing back to the beach below, she let herself process the events that had so quickly unfolded. Her ears perked then when she overheard the invitation for all to join them in this place they called a Bastion. A faint grin etched itself across her whiskered face as the captain gave the order to make ready to leave. It seemed as though they'd get an adventure out of this yet. With that thought, she disappeared below deck and began gathering her things in a flurry. There was no telling what they'd see or find to get into and no telling what she would be able to buy, trade, barter, or borrow and she wasn't about to leave anything of potential use behind.

She even snatched up the dried up old scroll that she'd struggled to read over after breakfast, but then remembered the Dunmer that was so kind as to not raise a fuss about her 'borrowing' it and decided it would be best to see it back to him in one piece sooner rather than later. It wasn't until then that she remembered Starkad's ax. Pulling it from her belt, she examined it with great scrutiny. The weapon was well balanced and the edge quite keen. Indeed, a fine weapon to wield and would likely demand a decent price. The Nord would probably be missing it by now, too.

With a chuckle to herself, she shoved it back through her belt, shouldered her pack which now contained all of her remaining earthly belongings, and made her way back on deck quite ready to start this new adventure. She had even contemplated borrowing some parchment and ink from the captain's own quarters to make a map of this new area too, but eventually dismissed the idea. She wasn't much good at map-making and the captain didn't seem one to readily share his belongings anyway. When she passed Mirida, she reached into her satchel and withdrew a strong healing potion that she had made herself before leaving port back in Solitude and slipped it directly into the Nord's pocket in such a manner that no one would see, speaking hushed as she did so. "Just in case, my friend. We do not know these strangers nor their true intentions..."

With that, she made her way over to the railing so as not to draw attention, hoping that thinly veiled lie of a reason for it was enough to make the female Nord think it was for potential future combat instead of for the wounds the Khajiit knew she still carried.

[Jacogos]

In the ten to fifteen minutes Daimus had to himself aboard the ship, the Dunmer had managed to scour out the lower decks of the ship in order to assess the damages and if anything was lost. The tide had, thankfully, been on track to begin lowering during their time here, so most of the damaged hull wasn't bringing in water. It was still notably wet and crates of certain items such as dry food would need replacing or at least reboxing. Daimus made his mental notes, memory being one of his strong points, and began to ascend through the ship's levels.

It was about then that he started to realize that he had missed a lot. That deep in the ship, it was nigh impossible to hear voices of anyone on deck, but once he was nearing the stairs to the deck he began to make out quite a few shouted and none-too-friendly voices. Grimacing, Daimus shifted his hand to the short-sword he had strapped to his belt after leaving the Captain's quarters. He didn't want a fight, but if that's what all the yelling was about... Poking his head out into the sunlight only further increased his confusion.

Mirida was the first one he saw. She looked as if she had just stopped herself from exploding, though knowing her, it was likely she hadn't. Hiding a frown, Daimus's attention then settled on a new face; if he knew anything at all about history, that one had to be a Snow Elf. She was pretty, to say the least. Exotically so, he could say. Yet her presence was the largest of the things that confused him; what was she doing here, on board the ship? Alone as well, as far as he could see, which wasn't much. His eyes adjusted to the light better and he saw Khinada lowering two weapons from the girl; he hadn't realized the Khajiit had been there until now. His eyes widened slightly; was that the big Nord's weapon? The blacksmith's eye for weaponry noted the distinct differences between different crewmember's weapons and that one was without a doubt Starkand's axe.

Turning his newfound sight elsewhere, Daimus saw that there was another Falmer aboard; his armor and the way he spoke to the Captain marked him as a leader of sorts. He seemed to have invited them to some sort of 'bastion' or whatever that might be and grabbed the girl almost by the scruff of her neck and drug her away. That only kindled Daimus's confusion even more.

The Khajiit brushed past him into the ship and Daimus found himself frowning at the backs of the retreating Snow Elves, a whole party slipping back into the trees. He had missed a lot indeed. Perhaps Miri would give him the run-down later over a mug of ale. Muttering curses and prayers to Azura alike under his breath, Daimus hailed the Captain over.

"We're guests, then? What's the status on armor and weapons, Captain? I'd imagine neither, but I'd hate to walk into a city full of strangers with nothing but mine and the Templar's magic to save us..." the Dark Elf asked, his eyebrows furrowed in thought as he imagined fighting their way through a group of well-trained Falmer with nothing but magic and their bare hands. Not a pretty sight. For the crew.

[TsukiHime]

Sovia look how the situation got tense and she just standing there, one of the snow elf seems to talk in a language that she has heard before but she doesnt remember where she has heard it. The she realize the situation got little bit relax, just a LITTLE BIT though. Sovia is betting on her life.. well okay.. she is not that brave, she is betting on her -she-is-glad-if-it-lost-destruction magic scroll that even a little spark or rude comment will make the tension reach its peak again.

Sovia keep speechless knowing that if she ever speak again, she will rambling with asking the forgiveness of the captain for her silly and stupid behavior that seems likely causing the crew to this heavy tension situation. Sovia keep clenching her staff so tight that she cant even feel her hands.

[Imperial1917]

Isus shifted his stance to a ready position to engage. The situation had come to a head rather quickly. Somewhere, the Nine must be cursing us, he thought. It seemed to be a certainty.

From where Isus stood, he had seen virtually everything and liked none of it. First, there were the frustrating orders by the command echelon of the Storm Breaker. Then there was the captain running around like a madman shouting something about canceling the shore party before they even really left the ship. Now this.

Mer. Isus really hated mer. Gazing out, he could see where the locals had come out to confront the mapping expedition. No doubt the filthy pointy-ears were planning to kill the crew and plunder the ship. Glancing to the side, Isus spotted some of the ship's resident mer and wondered whether they were in on it. Isus didn't doubt that possibility either. It was all too convenient that perhaps the first ship ever to set sail bearing the anti-Altmeri Dominion Stormcloaks was felled with such bad luck.

The only Mer that Isus really didn't suspect was the resident Altmer female, who had seemingly found herself a frozen puddle to fall into.

Perhaps this would serve to open the captain's eyes to the treachery of the mer and he would expel the likely suspects from the ship. Isus wouldn't mind leaving them to the barbaric ritual sacrifices that the natives likely practiced in the service of their unholy gods. Then again, he might have to stay behind to put an end to such heretical worship.

Isus shook his head and gripped the pommel of his sword. If these savages wanted a fight, the captain only had to say when. It was entirely likely that the crew was outnumbered and outgunned, especially with so many potential traitors in their midst, but Isus didn't care. Templars accepted that they would fight surrounded. This would just be one more battle.

[Raindrop]

Cursing under her breath, nasty words to the Snow Elf she could still respect that it had gotten on board and so close to her without being killed.
Mirida had lowered her sword, giving Khinada a nod of appreciation, before leaving to prepare their leave towards their bastion. Standing outside again she looked out over the ground she would soon walk on when Khinada once again came close to her, handing her a health potion, Much appreciated... Mirida thought, after all, they could get in danger out there... Or does the beast know it too? Whichever, her respect or Miridas business was surely appreciated and if thus was the case it mattered not as long as Khinada kept her mouth shut.

Proudly she walked to make sure that all of those that were going to leave was set up too, which seemed to be everyone, not that they had to fear the ship being stolen or tempered with at this point. Also noticing Daimus step off the ship along with one after another Mirida too made it off the ship, "I believe we are about as ready as can be to set off on your orders Lord Captain, sir."

[Aureyon]

Snowfall had a look of shame and embarrassment on her face as she was dragged away by her uncle. She knew what she had done was foolish, but she only cared to keep the Outsiders in good condition; She really wanted to leave this forsaken island for the outside world, and she just wasn't comfortable losing her chance with one of the crew members falling sick from the cold.

"I just wanted to help the woman, she will get sick on this island with a wound such as that. I know it was wrong, but was my heart not in the right path? Wouldn't Auri-El do this, dear Uncle?", Snowfall questioned innocently. She was young, even by Snow Elf standards and she knew that she had much to learn, but she kept her eyes to the ground as she was dragged away from the ship, feeling a multitude of eyes upon her from both sides of peoples.

She just looked upon the ground, afraid to look and see the face of her uncle. She had brought shame to her family, and most of all her father; Her father! She was doomed now, she had forgotten that word would reach her father of what occurred by his daughters actions. She winced slightly as she could already practically feel his fury from the bastion like a bright flame, as if he already knew...

[Rayne7]

Before Graesin could even get a response in relation to his question, everything went to hell. Guess I should've figured, after getting no response from the crow's nest during the storm, he thought to himself even as he drew back his arrow to his cheek, already sighted in on the Knight Paladin. From the responses on both sides, it seemed that the elf boarding the ship was an individual acting of their own accord, but it could easily be a ruse. However when the two group leaders called for truce, he instead returned his arrow to his quiver and the bow to it's sheath attached on the side of it. The act on his part was simply to show a propensity for peace over violence.

Once upon the ship he made ready, not speaking to anyone but ever watchful of the other mercs as well as the crew. As if being an elf on board a ship of Stormcloaks and a Templar weren't bad enough, now they probably wondered at his allegiance. Little would they know that he held no allegiance to anyone but himself, though that likely wouldn't please them. He'd pledged that so long as he remained a part of the voyage he would be obedient to the officers and protect the crew, but like all pieces of paper it would be of little worth if no one proved their trustworthiness to him as well. Making sure he was prepared one last time, he went back to where people had gathered.

His eyes hard, he glanced at the First Mate to make sure no harm had befallen her, then at Daimus and finally the Captain. As much as he disliked the Captain's decision not to even leave a guard behind, he kept his face impassive as he stood ready.

[SikstaSlathalin]

*Knight- Paladin Volare*

Volare's fury quickly faded upon looking down at his niece's shame shadowed face. With a sigh he released her collar and brought his face close to her ear and whispered.
"I know young one, and mayhaps he would've but as you can see they didn't see it as you trying to help. They saw you as an attacker, and bringing down that Sailor as easily as you did affirmed it. You must remember outside of our island, the Lost Vale, and the very edges of Altmora our people are either extinct or one of the Betrayed. And that is all they know of us. We must try to educate them in the truth before we can approach in friendship. I'll try and calm my brother when he finds out. Just keep your good intentions in check for now."


*Winterblade*

"Weapons only. We'll be back for the rest." He said flatly to Daimus's question. As his crew went about gathering their belongings Allester climbed back aboard and into his room gathering parchments and ink just because they were ship wrecked didn't mean they had to forget their mission. He intended to map this area either by walking around and doing it himself or working out a deal with the Snow Elves to use their charts. If his suspicions were right the Elves needed them for something otherwise they would've been killed the moment they got off the ship. The brutality the Knight-Paladin showed in reining in his troop made that fact painfully obvious they were expected even as far-fetched as it must seem. This was a blessing in disguise, at least that was the old Nord's hope. Gathering a couple of empty charts and his Captain's log/ journal in which to record everything he sees in the mysterious Bastion.

Once everything was secured he moved from his cabin and jumped back down to the beach, with the go-ahead from Miri he nodded to the Snow Elves who began moving slowly off towards the woodline. The Captain nodded to his crew and followed hanging back ever so slightly so he was in the middle of the group. Keeping his voice low he spoke so only those around him could hear.
"I know what some of you are worrying about. Why am I ordering everyone off the ship without their armor or even leaving a guard to watch over things? Quite simply we won't need them right now, I don't know why but they need us alive and cooperative. If they didn't need us the Archers hidden amongst the cliffs would have turned every one of us into a pin-cushion. Snow Elves archers were on the level of Bosmer archery skill back when they were a thriving people. As long as no one does anything stupid like insult or attack our hosts." He emphasized this point by looking everyone in the eye that look at him. "Our property and ourselves will be safe as a babe in his mother's arms. Just stick close to me and keep your hands to yourself." With his crews worries hopefully put down he went back to the front of the group and led them after the Snow Elves.

[Raindrop]

Walking through the thin powder snow Mirida kept herself close to Lord Winterblade in order to hear whatever he had to say. She was mighty impressed by the knight paladin of the snow elves, he had alot of leadership skills and knew how to keep his soldiers in check.

"No worries Lord Captain, I trust you out fully." Mirida replied to his ensuring words, he sword kept inside her wintery coat, her boots crunching into the snow. It felt like home and yet the air plenty more salty then that of Skyrims coasts. Determined to put the incident behind her she came to turn into a more observative mode.

Lord Winterblade sure knows how take his tounge for arms, if he would only glance at me like he did to his wife... He is so sincere and I can't let my admiration get in the way for being what he wishes me to be, if only mi'lord, I would have been by your side before your wife. Mirida thought and carried on beside him.

Before Mirida met Lord Winterblade she thought she could never love again, just as she figured the snow in Skyrim would never feel the same it once did on her cold skin, on the night she died and came back once more... How she despised her own life, yet she loved the thrills of being in danger and ever since Lord Captain became her aquaintance she has found new meaning to try and be the best she can.
Was that the real reason she didn't want Lord Winterblade to see how weak she was, the poison might have run through her veins for some time already and yet she kept up, her wound was hard to close and yet the more the pain stung the more she struggled to stay on top. All due to her admiration of her captain, of someone who's mysterious charismatic appearance attracted her feminine side out of her, infact thus why she had her coat on herself. A proper warrior and at this point widow of the sword, Mirida knew that she had to get her wound in check as soon as possible.

[Aureyon]

“You foolish little girl!” yelled the tall, anger filled Father of Snowfall. He drew his hand back and snapped it forward, making contact with the right side of Snowfalls face, sending her sprawling onto the floor with a rough thump; she winced as she landed on her thumb, and it bent at an abnormal angle.

“I was only trying to help the woman, Father. She risks infection and possibly worse from the harshness of this forsaken island.”, Snowfall said, her teeth on edge.

“They are Nord, you idiot. They are used to the cold that Northern Tamriel offers them. And, I am told that you spoke the common tongue as well as any outsider”, his voice was edged with an icy tone that was even colder than the harsh landscaped around them. He looked down at his daughter, his eyes filled with barely contained rage, and a storm was brewing in the cloudy grey of his iris.

“If only to tell the woman to let me heal her! I could smell the poison running through her body; It is that strong, and to do nothing is against my nature. Regardless of whether or not you approve of my decisions, they have been made and now you will have to deal with the consequences, as will I.”, Her tone echoed a finality, and she turned to walk away from her father, towards the exit of her home.

If one did look upon her home, they would see it was magnificent in stature and look; it resembled the wealth of her family, and the respect of her father’s station. Though the house was grand it held many a dark secret within its pale gray walls and colored windows. Her mother after all had been killed while giving birth to Snowfall and her death still seemed to linger within the house, almost as if her spirit still walked its ancient halls.

As Snowfall approached the door to her home, she turned to speak a final word to her father, but never had the chance to do so; for in that moment she was hit with a force so large that she was flung from the room and down her steps into the snowy landscape in front of her house. She had landed on her stomach, and as she tried to stand, she fell back down to the ground in pain. Her leg had a deep wound, which was mixed with blood, snow, and dirt and she watched as her life essence pooled on the ground around her wound.

A great many would see the scene with their own eyes, and would see snowfall flung through the air and her impact onto the sharp edge of the rocks beneath the snow; a great many chose to ignore this fact, simply because of who the girl’s father was. They knew the anger that the man had within him, they knew well the tales. He had changed ever since his wife died, the dear mother of the poor child. They wanted to help; you could see that written clearly on their faces, but their fear of her father’s wrath kept them at bay.

The man walked out into the snow after his daughter and began yelling at her in the harsh language, somehow made harsher by the tone of his voice, “You are a disgrace to the children of Auri-El. You are a disgrace to this family, and most of all you are a stain upon your mothers’ good name. She died giving birth to you, and this is all you have to show her for it. You are a disgrace, and I don’t want to see your face the rest of the night here.”, he left as quickly as he had come, slamming the door shut behind him.

[StormyNyte]

Khinada still didn’t like the thought of leaving without her armor, but the captain was quite insistent that they were safe. When she made her way back down onto the beach to follow with the rest, she made her way over to Starkad. The captain may have felt they were safe, but the Khajiit was not completely convinced and if it came to a fight the Nord would likely want his fine ax back. She grinned to herself as she rested her hand on top of the blade, wondering if he had even missed it yet.

Pulling the weapon from its place in her belt, she flipped it so as to offer it back haft-first as she closed the last few steps distance. “A fine taste in weapons you’ve got, Starkad. If we’re lucky, you’ll needn’t demonstrate the keenness of its edge until we’re well away from this place…” She smiled then, hoping the slight of borrowing without permission wouldn’t sour his regard for her. Daimus was next on her ‘return to’ list, but the Dunmer smith’s reaction would be anyone’s guess. For now, she’d take the task one person at a time.


__________________________________________________ _________________________________


It was early evening when Arayna neared the outer-most dwellings of the Bastion. Under normal circumstances, she would be brazen enough to gallop noisily in on a fearful looking conjured skeletal horse with her ebony robes trailing behind her like some pair of dark wings, but today was different. Today she cared not for the usual greetings shock and contempt; something was different and she was determined to know what it was. As her steady and swaying steps drew her further in, her blue eyes caught the sight of the younger Mer they called Snowfall splayed out haphazardly over the frozen ground. No doubt she’d have something to do with whatever was amiss.

The Wraithheart regarded her coolly as she made her slow approach, watching as the other woman was finding the strength to push herself back up. With a slight smirk on her face, she spoke in a voice that was as cold and flat as a frozen pond. “Disappointed daddy dearest again, did we?” She gave a mocking tisk, leaning on her staff and glancing up to the house she was so unceremoniously rejected from. “If I had been you, the man would’ve gotten a blade through his skull years ago, then I would’ve made better use of him…”

Looking back to Snowfall, she frowned. “You’re bloodied, but you’ll live. Now get up, you’re weakness is showing.” Arayna never was one to care for people much weaker than herself, not even her own parents. Instead of accepting her choices with dignity, they chose to remove themselves from the main host of the Snow Elf population out of shame to eek out a living in the harsh wilds of the island. They were likely still hiding in that squat little hovel of a shelter they called a home, but she hadn’t laid eyes on them in years. For all she knew they could be dead, but it mattered little to her.

[StormWolf]

Coiled like a saber cat ready to pounce, Starkad remained in his Wrath Guard, his sword as his proverbial fangs and claws. His bare arms bulged with the coiled steel-chord sinew, thick veins road-mapping from shoulder to knuckle. The cool sea breeze brushed by his ear like the whispers of a siren, tousling his golden, ice-matted mane. Starkad could feel his heart pounding in his chest and in his head and in every swelling vein that pressed against his pale, scarred skin. Wound and coiled Nord looked ready to burst from the tension between the two parties, to erupt in a gout of steel and blood and unbridled animalistic aggression.

There was, however, no such eruption. The tension started to dissipate from cataclysmic to cautious, the Ice Wolf lowering his mighty weapon to a lower, more relaxed posture as the offending Falmer was dragged away like a scolded child. The Lord-Captain gave his order and Starkad obeyed, always the soldier. He did not have to like or agree with the orders, but he was paid to follow them. The mighty Nord sheathed his shimmering greatsword and folded his arms across his chest. Only when Khinada returned to his side and offered him the haft of his axe, did Starkad notice it was missing. Unwinding his arms and glaring casually to his empty belt loop, he snatched up the axe haft and gave the weapon a few lazy flourishes in his mighty hand.

"Verily so, friend Khinada..." Starkad surveyed the weapon in his hand, how the condensation of the ocean breeze clung to the cold metal like a lover, dripping down the tempered steel as if the weapon were sweating from the tension of the ordeal they had all just gone through. Flipping the axe in his hand and choking up on the grip, he offered the haft back,

"You hold on to it. You have found a need for it twice in the past day, where I have not." Smiling thinly, Starkad tapped the flat of the blade with a knuckle. The steel hummed lowly before going silent. "The steel sings for you." Starkad said, the corner of his mouth curling up a bit more, bordering on what could best be called a smirk.

[SikstaSlathalin]

*Knight-Paladin Volare*

He sighed heavily as his soundly struck the girl and pretty much disowned her, they were both raised in an old fashioned household and that was how their father disciplined them. They each took a good number of beatings but how they reacted was how the others indentified them from the other twin. Volare spoke his mind and fought back his brother bottled it all and the death of his wife shattered that bottle into a thousand pieces and poor Snowfall was the only one he could unleash it upon. He tried that with anyone else in the Bastion he'd be executed or banished if the Arch- Curate was feeling merciful. Hehad done what he could to help his neice but only managed to talk his brother out of using a club on her. Even being the Knight-Paladin, he only has so much power over Advisors like his brother. Once the whole affair was over he shook his head looking at his seething sibling.
" You already lost your wife and now you're going to lose your only daughter, mother would be ashamed of you dear brother." Not waiting for the firey retort he exited the house and spotted Snowfall with Arayna the nearly infamous "Cracked Mage" as other called her. He didn't fully trust the woman but as long as she doesn't break any laws he can't do anything to her.
[I] Good evening Arayna."[/] Was all he said brushing Snowfall off looking at her broken thumb.



*Winterblade*


By the grace of the Gods, Allester and his crew made it to their quarters for the night without further incident, but the looks and glares they got were so obvious it was almost comical. Mouths hanging open, eyes narrowed, and weapons half drawn to name a few. If he wasn't so sure of their safety he would have everyone go back and get their armor. The crew was divided much like on the ship women were in one room and men were in the other despite being made with ice and stone the rooms were comfortable and tolerably warm. Snow Elves were master of magic, even rivalling the Altmer. Obviously some magic was at work here he just hoped it was only for heating and they weren't in an oven waiting to be lit by the Snow Elves when they wished. Everyone had settled in as best as they could, the beds were built for tall Elves but not so much for muscular Nords. Thr Captain, Stark, and Jorn would not be the most comfortable but they would endure.

As everyone was getting settled in a knock came to the door at the mens' quarters. The Captain answered looking the young Elf of thirteen he'd say quaking ever so slightly at the boogeyman as many Nords were painted as amongs the Snow Elves. The boy spoke his voice cracking every so much struggling with the Common tongue some.
"Arch-Curate M-Millra, asks for you in her side...I mean at her side in food...I mean uh...uh..uh!" Allestet could tell the boy was on the verge of either tears or passing out so he waved his hand and nodded knowing what he was trying to say.
"We'll be there." With a sigh of releif the boy bowed to the Captain and ran off wiping at his eyes ever so slightly.
The old man watched the boy for a second before turning to the others.
"It seems we are to be guests of the Arch-Curate for dinner."

[Jacogos]

Daimus looked up from his bed with a vague expression, similar to one who was half-expecting an attack to come at any moment. One couldn't blame him, considering their reception. At the Captain's words, the Dunmer rose slowly, sighing.

"Wonderful... another chance for us to get nearly skewered..." he muttered, not bothering to conceal his obvious lack of faith in the Captain's earlier reassurances. The looks they had garnered were more than enough to put him on edge. He had taken to keeping a hand on his sword, uncaring of the further looks that got him. He supposed he could forgo it in an attempt to counter their magic with his own, but he highly doubted the outcome of that would be anything near favorable.

Daimus had prepared himself in the closest thing he had for finery as far as an outfit went. As a blacksmith of some report, he was used to dealing with some more noble members of society and having to dress up at least a little more than what he was used to. It might help him here, but for some reason he doubted it.

During that preparation, Daimus had been at a loss for where he had put a magic scroll of Ironflesh. He could've sworn he had had it when he sat down for breakfast, but that was the last time he had consciously thought to check for it. Scrolls, though magical by nature, weren't liable to disappear on you or up and walk away. It was a wonder he didn't automatically assume the Khajiit stole it, but he figured subconsciously that her agreement to the ships rules would prevent that.

So there he stood, waiting for at least the Imperial to make an objection that the Captain would shoot down before they would all make their collective way to the dining hall. At least he might get to see more of this icy fortress. It was quite impressive, in it's own way. He wondered if stores of Stalhrim might be found near here... If so, he'd have to take a swing at them if there were no Falmer nearby. As always, he had kept his pickaxe on him. Better prepared than left without when it was needed.

[Aureyon]

As Snowfall was recovering from her wounds, and the slight dizziness that flooded her body as she sat there, she was approached by Arayna the Cold; as her father came to call the elder woman. She nodded to the woman out of respect, and leaned against her uncle, who had helped her up, while she called upon her own magics to heal the wound of her leg. The healing spell flooded her leg with a warm sensation and she watched as the dirt and snow faded from her wound, and the skin closing itself up with imaginative stitches.

"My father is an angry man, do not provoke him Wraithheart. I am Falmer, I have no weakness to show", Snowfall said cooly in her native language to the elder woman, with a hint of defiance overflowed by a sense of respect for the woman. She had chosen to break the societal norms of the main host of the Falmer and had lived for years among the wilds of Roscea, and had chosen to live among those who dwelt within the Bastion again, defying the expectations of the ones who dwelt there.

Nevertheless, Snowfall was grateful for the assistance of the two elder Mer, and she bowed graciously to them before leaving the two to each others company; She was going to see the Arch-Curate, her face already bruising around the eyes, and her hair tinged with the a slight remnant of blood. Her clothes were torn where the rock had entered into her leg, and she walked with a, very small, limp that would be noticeable only, upon close inspection; as she made her way through the Bastion, she pulled her hood above her head, hiding her features from those would would witness the rage of her father enacted upon her skin.

[StormyNyte]

As Starkad offered the axe back, Khinada offered a smile as she took it. “Perhaps it shall protect me whenever you cannot.” Her voice held a hint of a purr as she spoke. The Nord’s well-chiseled physic had not gone unnoticed. In truth, the Nord held a certain primal nature that always managed to catch her eye. She watched his expression as she slowly slid the haft back through her sword-belt and gave him a grin before turning and making her way after the rest of the group.

Once they were well into the Snow Elves’ domain, she couldn’t shake the unease that crept over them. She could feel the eyes on them and the tension was so thick that she was certain her dagger could slice through it. Once they where shown to their quarters, she got herself settled in before plucking up the courage to step back out. She still had to return Daimus’s scroll and now they were the very heart of potentially dangerous territory. With a careful glance around, she quietly made her way toward the men’s quarters hoping to catch them on their way out.
__________________________________________________ _________________

As the Knight-Paladin Volare exited the house and approached, Arayna frowned slightly. “Pleasant eve, Volare. I see that you’re still trying to muzzle that brother of yours. I wonder… what would he do if his late wife of his returned and saw him for what he’s become?” She smirked at that, giving a dark chuckle as she turned her attention back to the younger woman as she healed herself and stood. “Your father’s anger is no concern to me. There is more to you than he credits you for, remember that.”

As Snowfall moved off, she returned her sights to the girl’s uncle. “So, Volare, what is it that has the entire Bastion in such an uproar? Has someone once again committed the atrocity of defying our great island’s sense of normality?”

[Rayne7]

Graesin still disagreed with the captain, but did as ordered and followed the others, keeping his bow strung and within easy reach. Experienced eyes assessed each new person they met along the way, watching the reactions and gauging their potential threat even as he memorized the streets and began making a mental map as each new place was revealed. The tall structures and their uniqueness made it easy; they gave him landmarks that could be seen from nearly anywhere and used to navigate. While the others seemed satisfied to simply follow without a backup plan, he would be sure to have an escape route should things go wrong.

Inside their rooms, he did a quick subtle search for peepholes and places where people could listen, though he knew they were more likely to use a magical means for the sake of convenience. After finding nothing other than the usual places (door, window, ect), he turned just to hear a young elf inform the captain that they were to attend dinner. The very idea was nearly enough to make him snort in derision, with the already existing tension among the crew, he didn't think it would go over well for them to be there. But it still remained the captain's decision on how to handle it.

Awaiting the response, he rearranged his daggers so that they were hidden on his lower back, blades facing up with the hilts behind his hips, giving him easy access to them at a moment's notice, hidden under the red noble's coat he wore. Then he unstrapped his swords and set them leaning against the wall, sure that the captain wouldn't want them to be so blatantly armed at the dinner-table, though he kept his bow and quiver; as a Bosmer, he was certain that the snow elves would understand that he was loathe to leave it behind.

[Imperial1917]

The good captain had best choose his next moves wisely. thought Isus, watching the crew go below Else he is end up with a blade between ribs. Shaking his head, Isus remained on the deck, surveying the scene.

Who exactly that blade would come from, Isus was unsure. It might come from the crew. They were disgruntled as they were. First they set out on a fine day following Midsummer's Festival. For Nords, Isus knew that alone was grounds for mutiny. It was never wise to stand between a Nord and his brew.

Or perhaps it would come from one of the mercenaries. Privately, Isus wouldn't be surprised. The mainland was a tumultuous place now, with war hanging on every tongue. Now, stranded on an island nobody seemed to know about with a ship that wasn't going anywhere fast, they might take their chance to break with the mainland. Perhaps they thought that slaying the captain and helping to take over the ship would grant them favors with the locals. If they thought that, they were fools.

Or possibly the natives would do it themselves. They almost certainly outnumbered the grounded ship residents and Isus doubted the combat skills of most of the crew.

Or maybe Isus would have to do it himself.

As much as Isus disliked the idea, it was increasingly obvious that the captain was not entirely sure what he was doing. His orders thus far had proven more and more inconsistent and confusing. It was only a matter of time before the crew realized this and started panicking. Isus could hardly blame them. The crew would soon become spooked by the captain's actions if he did nothing about it.

It wasn't that Isus wanted to do it. As a Templar, Isus could understand why the captain was taking the approach he was. Isus had heard of such things before. The captain was obviously putting his bets on diplomacy as a means out of their current situation. Isus himself would not have done such a thing. Mer weren't to be trusted in such a fashion; not when they had such obvious advantages on their side of the bargaining table. And not when they were on equal or inferior terms, come to think of it.

It wasn't just that either. His oaths held him to follow the captain. And what was a Templar without his oaths?

The problem was that the sailors weren't Templars. They weren't even soldiers of rank or anybody who would be versed in relations. They were just sailors hired to do a job. To make matters worse, the captain didn't appear to be someone they were familiar with. Hired they were, but money didn't buy trust. Or real loyalty. A good crew who knew their captain from many seasons of sailing would follow that captain to the depths of Oblivion, their sails ablaze, without blinking. As a son of Ebonheart, Isus knew this. But Isus wasn't sure that was what they had. What they had was, by all evidence, men and women following the lure of coin. If they thought the captain paralyzed into irrational or hasty action, they might rebel. That would spell doom for all involved.

Isus inwardly grit his teeth, watching the activity of the deck. If things kept up the way they were, half the crew would end up bedding the Mer! Or maybe in the Mer torture chambers. Either outcome was possible.

Once again, this voyage placed Isus between a wall decked in thorns and his oaths.
He wondered which would be the stronger.

Or perhaps it was just that Isus didn't trust the captain. Not yet, anyways.

Brushing the thoughts aside, Isus descended into the men's quarters. It was growing chill outside.

[StormWolf]

When Khinada belted the axe and turned away, Starkad only smirked briefly. He saw how her eyes lingered, studying him with no attempt in hiding it. Starkad was not a stranger to such looks from a Khajiit of the female gender. It brought him back to better days. Days when he was free from what haunted him. Days before he was driven to the mountains by his own kinsmen. Falling in line behind the Lord-Captain, Starkad marched with heavy footfalls, his boots crunching through hoarfrost. The bitter chill of the land was lost on the Nord, even the chunks of ice that had started to grow in his matted mane of hair. Such was a common inconvenience in the land of Skyrim. One simply had to adapt, improvise, or die. There was no room for the weak in the bitter north. The weak tend to find themselves occupying the belly of some fearsome beast or their bodies feeding the earth.

The path to the Falmer stronghold was hardly in plain sight. Untold decades of overgrowth and disuse grew over the corroded cobblestone. It was thankfully not a glimpse to the Falmer architecture. On the contrary, their little outpost was quite well maintained, protected by the harsher elements just as the buildings protected them. Everything had a sense of art to it, but much to Starkad's dismay, he realized just how slight and wiry these Snow Elves were. He needed to turn completely sideways to work his way through the door, ducking underneath the doorframe as he went. The room felt far too cramped for his tastes. For once, he missed the spacious expanses of his castle or the crackling warmth of Jorvaskr. Something that smelled of mead and ale and whiskey - not the stomach-curdling fruitiness of elvish brandy.

Finding a more spacious corner of the quarters, Starkad propped himself up against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. He surveyed the too-small room as it continued to fill with bodies. Grumbling to himself, Starkad drummed his fingers across his bicep. The Nord watched the young Falmer lad fumble into the room with the coordination of a newborn calf, stammering his way through a sentence like someone had left him buried to the balls is snow all night. Starkad wanted to say something to give the lad a jolt. Something to see just how thin the ice was for the feared Falmer. The thought of dinner had a mixed feeling to it as soon as the invitation left the mouth of the messenger boy. Being a man of his size, Starkad was constantly needing to feed himself, but at the same him he knew that if he could smell the sweetness of the Falmber brandy from the quarters, he would likely go blind not from alcohol, but from the sickly sweet of sugar.

"There had better be meat... and a non-putrid alcoholic beverage..." Starkad mused to himself, following the Lord-Captain out of the men's quarters. Khinada caught his eye as she was moving to join them.

[SikstaSlathalin]

*A co-op between myself and Wintry

As Snowfall limped slowly through the Bastion towards the Arch-Curate's quarters one Millira's Priestesses Derva approached the young Mer smiling softly noticing her bruising face and the limp.
That man is such a monster, the poor girl deserve better. She thought draping what she hoped was a comforting arm over the girl's shoulder.
"Come young one, Millira is expecting you. She is in her quarters dressing for tonight's feast." Only the Arch-Curate's closest friends spoke her first name to her flock. Leading the warrior with her arm they walked through the great hall and to their leader's private rooms.

Snowfall, grateful for the arm of Lady Derva as support, stepped through the quiet that was the Arch-Curate's quarters. Snowfall let herself be led down the hall, noticing the silence that seemed almost ethereal as her footsteps echoed, sounding as if thousands of people were walking down the hall with her. She winced every other step as pain shot through her leg, and her bruises were already beginning to fade, she had healed what little she was able to do before she came to visit the Arch-Curate.

As she stepped through the doors of her private quarters, she called out in shame "Lady, I wish to apologize for my actions aboard the outsider's vessel." She had disgraced her family, and most importantly her mother. Her father had hurt her with the words involving her mother, and he knew it would do so. She awaited the judgement of the Arch-Curate is silence, and a slight air of fear.


Derva patted the girl's shoulder softly before bowing to the room backing out respectfully to give the two female privacy. For many long moments Snowfall was standing in the Arch-Curate's doorway, soon she would hear the soft pat of bare feet and a tall woman dressed in a pearl colored robe come around the corner looking young Snowfall over frowning softly at her bruises and limp.
"Come child I will heal you." The Arch-Curate is the oldest and most magically powerful member in the Bastion, chosen by Auri-El himself to lead his Snow Elf children to his eternal kingdom. Despite her age and power though she was calm and kind as any good leader should. Sitting herself down besides a log white couch she motion for Snowfall to lay down.

Snowfall nodded and did as she was bade to do, and strode over to the long white couch, and lay down as she was bidden. As soon as she had laid down, she removed her hood, and smiled slightly at the Arch-Curate, "Lady Millira, I am sorry for bringing disgrace to our family.". Snowfall truly hadn't meant to bring disgrace to her family, and even more so to the Arch-Curate herself. This is the only fact that shamed Snowfall above all else, she had brought a stain upon the name of her family, and the Arch-Curate.

"Shhh shhh child, you have disgraced no one." The older Mer said placing a soft cold hand on Snowfall's lips silencing her. Moving the hand from the girl's lips to her bruised face and placed her free hand right over the leg wound. All Snow Elves have cold hands but if used right it can sooth hurts quite well, and Millira knew how to use it. Humming softly a golden light trickled from her fingertips like water and washed over Snow's wounds it would sting a tiny bit but the sting was soon replaced by a warm tide of relief as the wounds closed and vanished leaving only a lively color to the affected areas. Motioning for her great-granddaughter to remain still the Arch-Curate walked to her alchemy lab and pulled down a small pink vial. She never touched alcohol but she did have a fizzy cherry flavoured drink she made to toast with at special occasions. It was very much loved by the children of the Bastion and they've taken to calling it Arch-Curate cordial. She handed the small bottle to Snowfall smiling benignly.
"There's my great granddaughter, despite how Volare and or father reacted what you did wasn't necessarily wrong. It wasn't very wise either but it wasn't wrong. You heart was in the right place Snow, your head just didn't catch up in time. Outside our island rushing up to a stranger after taking down a few of their comrades will get you killed even if you intend to help them. We are not well-liked in the world of men, the Betrayed are the only version of us they see." Her eyes saddened slightly at the thought of those tortured twisted creatures crawling around in old Dwarven ruins around Skyrim.

Snowfall nodded solemnly and visibly relaxed as her wounds were healed, and she was given a pink drink from her great grandmother. She loved her grandmother very much, though it wasn't common knowledge that she was related to the Arch-Curate in any way. And, then she heard her grandmother speak of the Betrayed, and her eyes saddened deeply, even to the point a single tear left her eye.

"We could bring them back to the Light of Auri-El, m'lady. It is not yet too late for them." Snowfall in this single statement reflected her naivety of the world outside of her home. She held hope that the world could be changed under the guidance of Auri-El, and though this was highly unlikely, she still held onto the hope of the Snow Elves once again rejoining society.

"We have been on this island for too long, grandmother. It is time for the children of Auri-El to bring his light to those that would listen." She paused in thought, and then eye sparkling, she spoke again, "Permit me to leave with the Outsiders! I will bring Auri-El to the outside world, and all will bask in his light!" She had such naive hopes for the world outside of her home. Of course, she had yet to experience the cruelty that it offered.

Millira's tears left as the eager young Mer stated her intentions to join the Outsiders as a missionary for Auri-El. She wrapped her slender arms around around Snowfall, her long white hair falling down over the girl's.
"Back in the days of our glory dear child that would be a very possible thing, but the Men, Beast Folk, and even some of our fellow Mer have stayed too far from Auri-Els light. Only ourselves, the Bosmer, and Altmer still worship him. You have a strong faith granddaughter, I've always said if you weren't such a good fighter I would bring you into the Priesthood of Auri-El and you would do well." Her smile turned into something of a far-off stare as if she was recalling a recurring dream. "I had a feeling you would ask me that dear one. Auri-El told me of it, it seems your desire to help the Betrayed might be more tangible then it has in many centuries. These outsiders are not here by chance they are destined to help us free our cursed brethren from the treachery of the Dwemer." Her eyes refocused and the warm smile returned and she reached for a brush off her night stand motioning for Snowfall to sit before the mirror.
"But let's not worry about it just yet I must see these Outsiders before I can entrust them with such a mission. Come we must get dressed for dinner, I believe I may have a gown that would fit you, that is if you're not too old for your Grandmother to dress you." She smirked beginning to brush Snowfall's hair.

Snowfall nodded sheepishly, and at the mention of a dress, she winced slightly however made no objections to her Grandmother "Of course not, M'lady." She smiled before feeling the gentle tug of a brush through her hair. She closed her eyes and relished in the feeling of the brush running through her hair, something she hadn't felt from another woman in many years.

"Grandmother, do you think that mother would be proud of me? Father told me I have stained her name with my insolence and naivety." Snowfall asked softly, her voice dropping barely above a whisper. This was the most important thing to her, as it was her mother she never had the chance to make proud, or even meet. Her mother had died on the day of her birth, never having had the chance to see Snowfall grow up to be who she was today. She had a constant fear of disappointing her mother in the paradise of Auri-El.

Millira sighed softly continuing to brush Snow's hair.
"Don't let your father poison your purity child, ever since the death of your mother he hasn't been the best person to look to for the proper way of Auri-El. Trust me when I saw you mother would be proud of you for wishing to help someone." She finished Snow's hair and opened her wardrobe smiling at the girl.
"I know you don't wear dresses much, here take a look and see if anything jumps out at you."

Snowfall nodded and made her way to her grandmothers wardrobe, and after a short while of looking she found a shimmering golden silk dress with silver embroidery that hung to her skin as light as snow and soft as feathers. She slowly stripped out of her normal attire, and revealed her pale body as white as alabaster, upon donning the dress in silence; She looked to her grandmother and said softly,

"Thank you M'lady. You are too kind, and may Auri-El continue to bless you as he has done for so many years" She bowed slightly, and then turned towards the door her pale silver hair straightened to near perfection and her eyes ablaze with happiness.

"Shall we join the party?" She asks with a small hint of amusement at the edge of her words.

The Arch-Curate smiled at her Granddaughter seeing her mother in every aspect of the young Mer's face and body. She dressed in her ceremonial robes of glistening silk etched with snowflakes that seemed to fall as she walked.
"Indeed Snowfall, I just hope our guests have accepted my invitation." She took the girl's arm and walked with her to the meeting hall, already they could smell the finest of Snow Elf foods being served and the hall being set up for this momentous event.

End of Co-op.*


*Winterblade/ GM mover*


With his crew mostly cleaned up and assembled the Lord Captain nodded to the Priest that would lead them to the Hall. He nodded to Miri who turned and motioned for everyone to form an orderly line doing her best to hide the wound. Everyone did so and with a soft pat on the back she signaled the Captain they were good to go. He nodded to them and began walking slowly and despite himself solemly behind the Priest as he led them through the very heart of the Bastion. The Captain absorbed everything he could like a dry towel logging it all away for later when he had time to add everything to his journals. He also noticed the tension his group created as they marched through the Elven stronghold, he knew though as long as no one did anything stupid on either side they'd get through this night without having to fight for their lives.

It was a decent walk from their quarters to the large Commons which despite looking like just a roofless cave holding flat rocky grounds and six teirs filled with homes and businesses. It was just as cozy as the rest of the Bastion the huge hole above them was blocked with a perfectly clear formation of crystal that showed them the calm bone white moon looming over head. The Commons themselves look like a natural cavern with very little done to it some magically powered lights playing/training Fields and the skeletel remains of what looked like fair grounds. It was mostly emepty aside from a few couples both young and old enjoying the peacefullness aropund them. Next as they started going uphill the group came to what Allester assumed were the poorer residents, simple stone buildings with minimal artestry and more utilitarin features built right into the stone walls.

At first he thought how primative it all looked but after stealing some glances in open windows and doors he realized even the poorest Snow Elf lived in homes that would put some of Skyrim's residents to shame. Multiple rooms, all decorated with trinkets, family relics, and other such knicknacks. The furniture seemed to be mostly wood with a few stone contructs for the larger pieces. The buildings seemed to be broken up by what the homeowner did for a living. Artisans were scattered along the bottom levels judging by the amount of little shops glaring everyone in the face, then Farmers/Hunters, this he could tell easily by the dirty tools and animal hides left outside the doors. Next were the familes of the lower ranked military personelle, he could tell this by the more modest dress of the people flowing out the doors and just the simplicty of their homes. Just before they reached a type of blue ice gateway he saw the signs of simple magic shops and the homes of the not as powerful or not as cutthroat ambitious mages( depedning on who you ask). They ran into a few Mer making their way to the Meeting Hall dressed in fine peasentry clothes. Many of them went out of their way to avoid the Outsiders which was to be expected. The Priest led them silenty through the gate and right into the rich district of the Bastion. It was layed out in the same fashion as the lower teirs but the differeance was in the sheer size of the businesses and homes. On the bottom of the last three teirs were the families of the military Officers and presumebly the Officers themselves. While still grand and large these homes still had the air of military dicipline about them. Continuing up the steepining hill he saw the homes and shops of richer mages the stench of alchemical ingridents and incense making his eyes water ever so much. Just before they reached the second blue ice gate he saw the grand and sprawling homes of Advisors and other such leeches fighting one another for control of the hillside. These homes looked the oldest out of the seven tiers so the Nord guessed it made some sense, there probably wasn't such a lack of room back in the day.

The climb was good but it reminded Allester how old he was getting, his knees and back ached some but as they passed the second gate and the climb leveled out into a plateu they felt better. The gate opened right up into the Dining hall and already it was full enough to bring up the heat of the room about 5 degrees. It was by far the largest portion of the Bastion he had to squint some what to see the end, the Bastion must've been some kind of huge city or meeting grounds for important events bac kin the glory days of the Snow Elves maybe even their capital where only the richest of the rich could stay permenatly but was a relegious mecca for the fathiful. There was only two hundred foot tables and a fifty foot table. One of the hundred foot tables was already half full, it gave a good idea of the Bastion's population. The Priest led them to the far end of the hall and motion for him and his crew to sit at the fifty foot table all along one side givng Allester the seat of honor, the right side of what would be the Arch-Curate's seat at the head of the table. The crew all silently sat down keeping thier eyes on the Nobles who sat across of them giving ever so slight glances.

[Jacogos]

The Bastion was quite impressive, to say the least. Daimus took his time to admire the sights as the crew strolled towards their destination with apparent unhurry. Of course, it was the Falmer Priest that set their pace, but Daimus wasn't about to object to his slow stride. He was enjoying the sight-seeing.

It was refreshing to see that a group of Snow Elves were still powerful enough to be self-sustaining and able to eke out a living for themselves. According to all known history, they were supposed to be extinct except for that one that the Dragonborn had found... But this made Daimus wonder if there were even more Snow Elves hidden about Tamriel in the deep alcoves of the world. With no way to contact each other, it's possible the Falmer wouldn't even know if there were others. Frowning thoughtfully, Daimus walked on, no longer looking at the Bastion's wonder of architecture.

It was almost a surprise when he realized they were in the Dining Hall, so lost in his thoughts he had been. Eyes casting about the room to get a grip on who was where and where they were being seated, Daimus became stunned upon the realization that they were being given a seat of honor rather than being sat aside like he had expected. Of course, Snow Elf views might be different from other Mer and Man's views, but he suspected not by much. Most of those traditional outlooks were deeply mired in history; they hadn't changed in centuries. He doubted the Snow Elves had changed their views in as long.

Seating himself between Mirida and Starkand, the former being next to the Captain, Daimus kept quiet for the moment in an effort to listen to the conversations about them. Sadly, the little he could pick up was innocuous and the nobles near them were rather... tight-lipped. He managed a small smile, but couldn't bring it upon himself to try small-talk. Those icy eyes could freeze even the loosest of tongues to the roof of its owner's mouth.

[Rayne7]

Graesin walked into the dining hall with the crew in a measured stride that allowed him to observe before sitting down at the table. The calculating look in his eyes was the same as he had given the crew when first meeting them; measuring and judging threats and listening to gather information. Given their obvious presence, however, the nobles at the table were not quite as talkative as they would've been had he been, say, in an alcove up in the rafters where he was certain a guard was posted at the moment; though had he been so inclined, he was sure he could eliminate a single enemy silently enough to gather information before the next rotation. But, alas, that was not the captain's wish, and so instead he had to feel like a wolf walking into a dragon's den.

Sitting at the table, he didn't reach for any food, instead watching how the snow elves picked their food. An assassin he once knew who was a master poison maker had once told him that when he knew that the food would be tasted before being served, he instead would put small concentrated doses of each ingredient of a poison into various foods, feeding them to the animals that were to be slaughtered and served. Each dose was small enough that individually the effects wouldn't do more than cause some mild side effects, but when each kind of food had been eaten, it would result in death.

As it was, Grae merely waited for them to get down to business.

[Imperial1917]

It was long after Isus had gone below that he rose to the deck again. Apparently the Captain, in his infinite wisdom, had decided to lead them into the bear's den. This would not bother Isus if it were a preemptive strike into the enemy's heart, but then of course it wasn't. Instead, it appeared that the Mer had invited them to a feast.

A feast. Ha! More like a trap. Undoubtedly they were equally preparing their torture chambers for the weaker of the expedition as they were their most able-bodied warriors for the stronger. It would avail them not, of course, but Isus had no fondness for dividing otherwise unconquerable forces. Not that the Storm Breaker's crew was that.

Reaching the Captain, he found the man consorting with some Mer who seemed to take amusement in making a mockery of Priestly attire. If, no when, this came to blows, Isus would take great care in instructing this one in proper garb for such a position. Shortly before his interrogation and painful death, that was. But then, at least he had given Isus a place to start with these Mer's reeducation.

The Mocking Mer lead the congregation through the Mer town. Glancing left and right, Isus wondered how much more he could stomach before he vomited. The Mer made a good show of pretending that their society was without fault. Undoubtedly they had had some complaints about having to move their torture pits and having to put up one-walled houses for this charade. Further proof, if more proof was needed, that they knew that the Storm Breaker was coming... and that there was a traitor in the crew's midst. It was as if they though that the myriad of Mer faces was not repulsive enough without their farce.

Eventually, the crew, ever complacently following their indomitable Captain, reached what the Mer clearly took to be their Great Hall. Isus could not deny that it was just that. But that was the problem. Great Halls, hollowed-out buildings like this, were not typical Mer architecture. Isus had seen enough murals of Mer buildings being burned down by holy crusades to know that much. This was likely a sign that they understood Nords' fascination with Great Halls and were trying to lure them into a false sense of familiarity and security. On that other hand, that this Hall was built thus may suggest that these Mer are different. Though the thought of Mer being less predictable was no comfort. It was still undoubtable that they were treacherous; it was in their kind to be so. Mer were Mer, no matter what place they came from.

Noting that the others were taking in the Hall, Isus gazed around to mimic them. He did not doubt that he had another motive though. Here, a perfect archer's perch. There, a strange seam in the wall - a concealed door? The danger was not as much those Mer around that looked like they could handle themselves so much as the ones that were clearly trying too hard to be unassuming. Magic made most Mer too dangerous by half for Isus' taste and dining with a Hall full of them in the middle of a city of them did nothing to better his attitude towards it.

The Mocking Mer lead them to a table and sat them down. Many of the other Mer watched them. Before them on the table was a humble amount. Drink and such. Isus eyed one of the pitchers suspiciously. Most likely the Mer had heard of the Nords' fondness for mead and poisoned it accordingly. Glancing at the Storm Breaker's crew, he saw that one of the Mer was looking at the drink with much the same expression. He had likely reached the same conclusion. Maybe this one could be trusted.

Settling in, Isus wondered what the main dish - if Mer had main dishes at their meals - would be.
Perhaps the main dishes had just arrived.

[SikstaSlathalin]

*GM Mover*

All of the crew and the Snow Elves were seated and waited for the Arch-Curate to enter. In the meantime the Lord Captain jotted down a few things he had seen so far namely the architecture, and the culture they had witnessed. If he died during this quest he sorely hoped his notebooks would make it back to Skyrim at least and the history books could be updated. As he wrote he couldn't help but notice his crew inspecting the food and drink, he sighed and decided to lead by example. He took a large tankard of the provided drink and took a good long swig. It wasn't the type of mead he was used to, it was a touch sweeter and like everything else in this place had a feel of magic around it. That aside though it was pleasant and had a slightly tingly aftertaste. He next tried the food which was tasteful and hearty in it's portions.

He didn't know why his people couldn't see they were in no danger here. If they were going to be killed the Elves would've just done it on the beach and not run the risk of showing them their entire city, and one of them getting free to cause untold amounts of havoc and destruction. He was just finishing up his entries on the city when the magical lights dimmed to a gentle glow and the doors to the Arch-Curate's private quarters open noiselessly and in strode the most beautiful Elf he had ever seen. As with most Elves it was nearly impossible to truly guess her age unless you had made more of a study of the craft than Allester had. But she was no doubt old, only the oldest and wisest Snow Elves became Arch-Curate. At least that was the tradition, but with nothing else to go on he would assume that was the case. He studied the woman who walked with slow solemn steps to the table, she was followed by the young Elven warrior from the beach. The old Nord barely recognized her all dressed up and primp.

Respectfully the Captain began to stand up but the woman waved him down kindly.
"No need for that honourable Captain, your journey hasn't been the longest but it has been rough. Sit down and enjoy the rest, fore it may very well be the last bit of rest you get for awhile. That is for later though, we will feast and then if it so pleases you Captain Winterblade, I would like to see you and your Officers privately after dinner. Your crew can enjoy some music and drink in the Commons in the meantime." Allester nodded.
"Of course my lady, it will be an honour." With plans set the feast began.

It was a pleasant enough time even with the Elves eyeing up places to shoot fireballs at the Crew and the Crew eyeing up the Elves looking for places to stick a blade. It ended in silence which was good, but while the plates were being cleared Millira led Allester, Mirida, and Daimus to her Private Quarters to discuss what she was so desperate to discuss. The rest of the crew was led by the Knight-Paladin to the Commons to enjoy the music of the Snow Elves.

As Allester and his Officers were led into the Arch-Curate's quarters, the old man found himself practically bursting with curiosity, he knew they were left alive for a reason. He just had no idea what that reason was. In silence Millira asked them to sit down and began her narrative.
"Well, as I am sure you have guessed you are here for a reason. I have had a recurring dream showing me the location of a way to cure our Betrayed brethren, Auriel has been showing it to me every night for past two years. I sought out the place but found it impossible to enter, by some strange twist of fate he has shown me to an ancient Nordic Barrow with the door locked by Nordic Runes. There are only a few examples of these in our Grand Library but none of them match the ones on the Barrow's Doors. I knew I would need a Nord to read them, and after I visited the Barrow I started having another dream this one showing me your ship and crew Captain Winterblade. I knew I had to bring you to Roscrea and so I created the storm that brought you here. I am sorry for that."
The Nord was listening intently to the woman's words, even when she admitted being the cause of the storm that wrecked his ship and killed one of his crew, he was not pleased at this but he also couldn't blame her too much for it. Desperation draws people to do things they normally wouldn't.
"Well just so you know Arch-Curate that storm wrecked my ship and killed one of my crew, while you can't repay a death you can repair my ship." The Woman nodded and continued her story.
"It will be the least I can do for you Lord Captain, once you get past the doors of the Barrow. You will have at least five levels to traverse before you reach the center of the ruins. On a pedestal is a book with the symbol of Auriel on it's cover. I don't know how the Ancient Nords got ahold of such a tome but it was the crowning jewel in the ancient Nord warrior Leif Bluestone's life of pillage and war against my people. If you return it I will personally insure your ship is fully repaired, I will also send some of my Warriors and a Mage with you to assist in this quest. Now I will give you some privacy while you deliberate, even if you decide to decline my offer I will have my people repair your ship and you can be on your way without molestation." She bowed gently before leaving the Officers to discuss.
Once she was gone he looked at Miri and Daimus his face still as stone but the fire behind his eyes glowing with possibilities.
"So what do you two think?"

[Raindrop]

Mirida had listened intensively, she was less then pleased to have lost a good crew member, luckily for the woman explaining her situation Mirida had not gotten to know the person who was declared dead.

"I see a chance to increasing the expeditions reputation, alas another mission to redeem the soul of one of ours whom would have been lost for nothing unless we take up on her offer... My final point in this is, treasures, somehow jewelry still speaks to me even though I feel like less like a living person and more the warrior and sails of your ship Lord Captain, thus be my thoughts on this." Mirida took a breath and turned her head towards Daimus, "How about you?"

Mirida was slightly highered in spirit due to the expectations of this possible quest, although the possabilities of draughs roaming the barrow was less then pleasing, even though they rarely put up a good fight, the was something feeling so off having to battle ancestors of Skyrim, no matter how cursed they were.

[Jacogos]

"Somthin' smells and it ain't the ale they gave us," Daimus said with a slight wrinkling of his nose. He liked his Morrowind vintages and little else. "I feel like the Curate isn't tellin' us something. I don't know what or even what it would concern, but I just have this feelin'....

"Either way, don't your damn ruins have those Draugr prowlin' about all the time? You think our crew can handle them?" he asked, having no idea what fighting the undead Nords was about. He had never been an adventurer and as such had no idea what to expect of the things other than that they existed. "Even suspectin' we can deal with them, she already said she'd repair our ship. Can we expect more for completing this damned quest of hers, or is this just a favor she'll never have to repay?"

Tapping his foot, Daimus crossed his arms in front of him as his brow furrowed at Mirida's words. "Yes, treasure, sure. At the risk of our own lives. I prefer an honest trade to crypt-sacking for my money, honestly. But I guess it falls to your decision, Captain. If we can handle it, though I'd not be to keen to place my money against unknown odds, then I'm all for a chance to be off the ship for a little longer."

[Imperial1917]

Isus was not pleased.

The poison they were fed at the feast was either slow-acting to catch them unawares or else the incompetent Mer simply hadn't applied it right. Either was a highly plausible explanation for why they were able to walk away from that without being hoisted up on spits. Isus did not doubt that the savage Mer would be so stupid as to poison the thing that they would eat and then actually eat it.

Still, the Mer were cunning. Isus could see that now. They had successfully convinced the fool Captain to divide the crew's strength now that the feasting was over. The ignoramus had gone off with one of the Mer, the First Mate, and the quartermaster. Undoubtedly they were being ambushed and slaughtered as he stood here watching the Mer socialize. They well knew that, even with the imbecile leading them, the crew would have been able to easily repel any overt attack during the feast with so many of the core fighters there. They probably even split up the group after leading them away to make their dark deed simpler. The only thing Isus could hope for was that the Captain and his command echelon proved worth a bloody tally before they went down.

With the officers effectively out of the picture, the task now fell to Isus, and perhaps the burly Nord that the Captain seemed to trust so much, to lead the remaining crew. Isus fully expected most of them to be butchered before he could reach them. Though he had chosen to stand on the edge of the place they lead them to so he could survey the field and prepare a defense, the others seemed to have wandered off. Most likely now alone and surrounded by Mer, they would be easy prey and fall quickly, their bones nibbled clean.

But what were the Mer doing? Surely even they had not the lunacy to think up the ridiculous dance they were doing. No. Not unless... a ritual. It must be! What other kind of a dance would such depraved beings do? They know nothing of the joy of dancing and praising of the wondrous Aedra. They only knew darkness and deceit. This must be a some dark ritual. But for what purpose? No... that must be it! A sacrifice! A sacrifice to their heathen gods! That must be why they lured the rest of the crew out here! To make them unwitting pawns in a unholy ritual! To make them living sacrifices!

Isus started edging towards the path from which they came. Maybe he could find the fool Captain and expose the plot before it was too late.

His hand strayed to the pommel of his sword. He scanned the crowd, searching for the crew. He began a silent prayer to the Gods for strength as he ordered the spells that he would cast. He gave thanks that he still had Wraithguard.

He would not die without a fight and these murderous fiends would feel the wrath of the Gods before he drew his last breath.

[Aureyon]

Snowfall entered the dining hall behind her grandmother, and eyed the crew of outsiders seated at the table. They were all very tense and stiff in posture, likely due to their recent discovery of the hidden realm of the Snow Elves; for years she herself had dreamt of the possibility of experiencing the outside world and now that the opportunity had presented itself to her directly, it was slightly frightening and caused her to force herself to be calm and remain impassive throughout the dinner. However, as soon as the Captain and his officers had been led to the Arch-Curates meeting room, she made her way through the commons and exited the dining area into the icy darkness outside the Dining Hall.

The wind greeted her skin with a gentle caress and her hair blew softly behind her as she stepped through the thick snow, her feet barely leaving prints as she moved, and her dress shimmered in the moonlight giving her an ethereal aura about her body that made her seem almost surrounded by the elements embrace. She made her way to the high walls of the Bastion and up the thick stone steps that led to the top of the wall and gave way to a view of the mighty ocean beyond; Often times she had found herself wandering to this spot late at night and looking upon the horizon hoping for a chance to be free of her restraints here on Roscea, but now that it was upon her, she knew not what to do.

Her mind, reluctantly, wandered to her father and the fact that he would be alone if she were to leave with the outsiders on their quest, whatever it may be. However, her own happiness and sanity was at stake, and she wanted to experience what was in the great beyond; Her mind had been made, but her reluctance did not fade. She loved her father no matter the abuse that she received from him, she could not bring it within herself to hate him; he was the last memory, if in a small part, of her mother. She would always love him no matter the tortures and abuses that were delivered by his hands.

She had finally made her way to the top of the wall, overlooking the snowy landscape and snow-caked trees, and retreated from her thoughts eyeing the distance with a look of wonder and excitement.

[SikstaSlathalin]

Winterblade listened to his Officer's concerns nodding slowly he'd been through Barrows before and well knew the dangers involved. He also knew the crew would never forgive him should he lead them to their deaths.
"Yes, the dangers are quite tangible. Drauger, traps, spiders, and any number of other such nasties. I know after she fixes our ship we won't owe her anything, but if we are successful we may very well rewrite history. A way to cure the Falmer that haunt the Dwarven Cities would be monumental. If we do this I will go but I'll leave it up the crew if any of you wish to join me." The old man spoke rubbing his beard slightly.

[StormyNyte]

It went without say that the majority of the meal was eaten in silence. Being a Khajiit among so many elves, Khinada couldn’t help feeling like an exotic animal on display. It was her nerves that drove her to take the first pull of the strange mead and, finding it to her liking, it was her nerves and taste that drove her well into a second and third. By the time meal was ended, she had polished off three tankards of the fruity liquid.

The effects of such an amount became evident when they were led from the banquet hall to enjoy music and other such entertainment. As she let her sights wander, she soon caught a clawed foot tapping to the beat and before too much longer she was whirling and dancing right along with the rest of them. It must’ve been quite a spectacle indeed, for her antics caught the attention of several of the Mer children who flocked around her, laughing and dancing themselves.

Soon, she found herself entertaining the young ones with tricks and slights of hand, pulling a coin from one’s ear and making things disappear only to reappear somewhere else bringing squeals of delighted laughter with it. Such antics even seemed to lessen the suspicious nature of the older elves, at least a little.

__________________________________________________ _______________________________


As the music and drink flowed, Arayna made her slow approach. She had intentionally missed the banquet, but her curiosity had finally bested her. As her strides drew her through the door, her surprise appearance was heralded by looks of shock and distain followed by low murmuring as she glided past those that looked on, her black mage’s robes swirling around her as she moved.

The corners of her pale lips drew into a smirk as she heard the musicians fumble their notes as they noticed her. With a cold chuckle, the Wraithheart spoke up, “Please, don’t mind me… I’m just here for the drinks.” She then gave a dismissive wave of her hand as she plucked a goblet from a passing tray. “Carry on.” Hesitantly, the musicians went back to their playing and the other Ice Elves went back to their conversations, albeit with a watchful eye on the dark mage.

As she sipped at her drink, she took in the sights of her current surroundings and the strange outlanders in their midst, taking particular note of the strange Templar that seemed nearly ready to draw his blade and start hacking his way through her blood-kin. She found that dark thought terribly entertaining, it was high past time for a good bout of blood-spilling. She laughed inwardly at that as she took another pull of mead, letting her icy gaze linger on the man as if to size him up.

[enaz]

Traversing through the snow Varic found himself shivering in excitement to meet the people who had crashed on Roscrea. He didn't suspect for the Curate to act on her plans so fast however. He was supposed to be apart of the welcoming party, and the prime delegator of the situation. However he had gotten wind of a group of bandits east of the village. It turned out the bandits had also been kidnapping other Snow elves that had wandered to far from the village and killed them. It took Varic two times to kill all of the bandits.*

The first time he caught up with them they had been living in a makeshift shack in the middle of nowhere. Varic burned the shack down which killed one of them, but since he had to collect the corpses he couldn't spend time chasing the others at that time. He went about collecting the corpse and the horse that had been left behind. Roscrea turned out to be to cold for the last two bandits to travel to long without some type of comfort. The second time Varic caught them they had hidden in a cave preparing a ambush for him. It was good for Varic that they didn't know he was a skilled conjourer. Conjuring a ghost he sent him inside the cave, and soon after he heard the bandits spring their trap. Disbanding the ghost before any harm fell upon it Varic walked into the cave freezing one of the bandits where he stood, and shooting the other with enough lightning that the body started to smoke.*

*Behind him the trotting of one of the Bandit's horses could be heard. Upon its back laid the three fresh corpses one of which was still somewhat steaming from the treatment Varic had given it. "Can't believe I missed it. I wonder who will take my place." Varic wondered as he trudged through the thick snow pulling the horse along. In his hands though he held a amulet that he had found in the bandits possesion. "Maybe enchanting this and presenting it to the Curate will get me off the hook? What you think Reed?" Varic asked the horse who just looked at him as if he were stupid. "I knew you'd agree."

Entering the village Varic stopped by the nearest guard station and delivered the corpses. "Here you go sir, my job is completed. Now my reward?" Varic asked the guard.

"Do you really think you deserve a reward after you failed in completing the job Madame Curate had for you?" The gaurd ask through clenched teeth.

Chuckling like that of a old man Varic patted the guard on his shoulders. "You are quite right, plus I have reward enough. Just find my good friend here a owner that will treat him right." Varic said patting the horse on his mane. Setting off from the guard station to his home he knew the festivities were probably already taking place, but he didn't want to show up to the Curate empty handed. Putting the gold amulet with a ruby gem on his enchantment table. Setting to work he soon finished a few minutes later with a amulet that would help her regenerate her Magica, and heal faster.*

Leaving the home Varic chuckled at some of the strangers who had arrived. They may not have noticed him thanks to him traveling on the outskirts of the celebration, but what he did notice was one strange soldier who looked as if he would start to attack his kin, and just standing there watching was Aryana. Walking in her direction he'd simply pass by her and give her a nod of acknowledgment. Varic seemed to be the only one who didn't look down on her because of the magic she studied. "Good to see you again Aryana, wish I could stay and talk but I must go see the curate. Just please do me a favor and keep your eye on that soldier over there and make sure he doesn't hurt anyone. IF you do I'll make it worth your while." Varic told Aryana before he continued on towards the Curates private quarters.

Outside of the lush doors stood two guards that were there to stop intruders, but as they saw Varic they obviously knew why he was there and stepped aside. "Thank you. I'll be sure to reward you with a few drinks on me." Varic said as he strolled into the Curates quarters to see the strangers talking to her. Walking around them all he'd wave at group. "Sorry madame Curate I wasted so much time taking care of a job, but I brought you a gift in return." Handing the curate the amulet he'd back off and stand behind her. He had taken his fathers place as her personal mage so he took his usual spot and looked upon the sailors.

[StormWolf]

Sitting as subtle as a shaved bear in the heart of Solitude, Starkad Long-Fang sat with stooped shoulders at the overly-intricate long table of the Snow Elves, his burly arms resting on the table itself, a hearty leg of goat in one hand and a flagon of ale. He would tear into the leg of mutton every so often, his teeth shredding through the meat like a wild animal, grease dribbling down his beard, soon to be followed by a hearty swig of ale. The drink was unmistakably elven - an overkill with the sweetness was the dead giveaway. Still, as putrid as it was compared to the spirits of Skyrim, Starkad figured it was better than nothing at all. Slamming down his mug, Starkad's voice bellowed out through the hall,

"Another!" he beckoned to the nearest beer wench, watching as she filled his cup to the rim with the frothy golden drink. "Enough," he grunted as the foamy head of the drink spilled over the mug's rim, taking it in his meaty grip to wash down another messy mouthful of juicy mutton. With the bone picked clean and his flagon emptied yet again, Starkad observed the the others in the feast. The Snow Elves sat in relative silence through their meal, the air filled with the gentle buzz of conversation, a polar difference from the boisterous shouting and hollering of the mead halls Starkad once frequented so often in his younger years.

The greater source of commotion came from Khinada, which Starkad found a surprise. Khajiit tended to want to go unnoticed by the masses. Khinada, however, was an oddity, unique in her ways. Never before had he seen a Khajiit dance to the soft flows of music, not in this way. Not to this music. It was like watching the ribbons of light that flowed across the sky at night. Starkad found himself caught in silence, the world muted to all but the music that compelled the Khajiit to move. It was only when she ceased her dancing that Starkad shook the fog from his head to see his mug filled once more. Stroking his beard, Starkad mulled a strain of food and drink fueled thoughts, thoughts that he would not normally entertain. Rising from his seat with a grunt, Starkad walked around he elven long table, scanning the room with the eyes of a hunter, his eyes continuously settling on Khinada as she was suddenly surrounded by the Snow Elf young, their attention grasped and entertained by the Khajiit's display of slight of hand. Passing by a serving wench with a tray full of flagons, Starkad snatched one up and moved towards Khinada, a small smile stretching across his face as he approached.

"Very impressive, Khinada." he said in that low rumble of a voice that was so befitting to his stature, "Would you care for some company closer to your age, or is your current crew fitting enough?" Starkad even let a chuckle fall from his lips as he stood before the Khajiit, offering her the flagon he took.

[StormyNyte]

Khinada was completely engrossed in her task of entertaining when she heard the gruff, familiar voice. Turning to face him, she gave a light-hearted laugh. “Thank you, friend. Khinada admits, the young ones are far easier to distract.” Reaching out, she took the offered flagon and drew it to her dark lips for a lengthy pull of the rich liquid. Her tongue quickly flashed across her lips to whisk away the thin film of froth left behind as she extracted herself from her small contingency of followers, staggering ever so slightly.

“But it is much more enjoyable to manage beguiling those much harder to distract, wouldn’t you agree?” She couldn’t keep the drunken grin from her face when she caught her eyes wandering over him. Even for a bearded Nord, he was quite a nice sight to see; or was that the ale talking? Whatever the reason, she suddenly found herself entertaining less innocent thoughts of what that full beard would feel like against her furred skin. With a nervous laugh, she turned the flagon up and drained it dry before setting it aside. “So, Starkad, are Nords as good on their feet when their movements are set to music as they are when their movements are set to battle?”

__________________________________________________ ____________________________

Aryana gave a light nod as Varic approached and requested her to keep an eye on the one her sights were already on. She didn’t dislike Varic, at least not nearly as much as the others currently surrounding her, but he was her closest competition when it came to the arcane arts. She respected him for that, but she also held a nagging desire to see who was truly greater. All in good time, though. For now, she would likely require his help to convince their strange guests to let her leave with them when they set off again. Taking another slow pull from her goblet, she returned her gaze to the holy warrior that looked as though he were about to snap. Of all the potential future crewmates, she could see him giving her the most entertainment. There was nothing more fun to her than passively tormenting those that saw her as something evil.

[SikstaSlathalin]

The Captain and his Officers had finished conversing and join the Arch-Curate in the antchamber of her quarters. As the Officers exited and her personal bodyguard walked in and presented her with an amulet. She smiled softly and accepted the enchanted necklace from Varic. It was good to see him successful in another hunt for bandits that threatened them. His father served Millira for many good years and so far young Varic was doing Tallo's memory proud. Placing the amulet in her robe pocket she bowed her head to the old Nord and his Officers.
"Have you decided Lord-Captain?" Allester nodded to the woman.
"Ay, Arch-Curate, I will go on this quest myself if need be, but I will ask for voulenteers amongst the crew still. Have you selected those that will join us?" With a smile Millira nodded.
" Not yet, but I have a few in mind." She stepped aside motioning them back into the Temple.
"If you'll excuse me Captain Winterblade, I have to prepare for evening prayer now." She bowed one last to them which the Officers each returned before walking back to the Commons. As the visiters turned the corner Millira sighed softly.
"I sorely hope, they can accomplsh where our own people have failed. Varic, please find my grandaughter Snowfall and Aryana and ask them to come see me after evening prayer. I feel they will jump at the chance to go along with the Captain and his crew." With a final smile and a soft hand on his shoulder the Arch-Curate stepped into her rooms and closed her door to prepare in solitude for the nightly prayer and left her loyal guard to his duties.


As Allester, Mirida, and Daimus returned to the crew the old warrior was glad to see nearly everyone at least not openly hating the Snow Elves, some like Khinada were even enjoying themselves by the looks of it. The Sailors were mostly sticking to themselves but didn't shoo away any curious Falmer. Most of the Mercs were just enjoying the food and drink waiting to see who throws the first dagger. That would have to wait though right now he needed to gather his people and see who was looking for a chance to make history.
"Crew of the Storm Breaker! To me now double time!" He shouted to his sailors and seated himself at the nearest table thinking of how he would go about this.

[Jacogos]

As the trio was escorted back, Daimus was surprised to find himself at ease. The thought of going on this insane adventure was not as unsettling as it had been when it was first introduced. Perhaps it was the cold getting to him; his clothes were not of the thickest material. Shifting his arms a bit to work some heat into them, the blacksmith allowed his eyes to wander as they made their way back.

In his survey, the Dunmer caught sight of the Snow Elf girl from before, silhouetted against the moon and starlight as she stood upon the walls of the Falmer fortress. His teeth clicked as he forcibly closed his mouth to stop from gaping. A shame that there was no time to chat with that one. A further shame when the Storm Breaker's crew would eventually leave her and the rest of her kin behind. Daimus found himself wondering if the Captain would considering hiring a Falmer or two to the ship...

Dismissing the outlandish thoughts, the Dark Elf waited as the Captain drew the others in from the revelry, noting the surprising amount of camaraderie that they were showing. Or rather, at least the Nord and Khajiit were. The rest still seemed a bit stand-offish, particularly the Templar. He would need to be dealt with, eventually...

Bloody shame the Captain's words from before had no effect on 'em, Daimus thought with a sigh, smirking at the obviously intoxicated cat as she and Starkand drew closer. "Enjoying the spirits, Khinada?"

[enaz]

Seeing the Curate take his gift assured Varic that he had been forgiven, and as he took his place behind her he watched the Captain, and his officers. He wasn’t worried, he could tell they would take the quest, but he doubted they alone would be enough. Looking back towards the Curate as she talked to him Varic nodded his head. “I’m sure Aryana, and Snowfall will be greatly needed, and be happy. I also volunteer myself.” Varic said as he swept out of the chamber on the task the Curate had sent him on.

Walking out of the temple and back to the main street he saw the festivities in full bloom. It wasn’t that much of a surprise. Festivities happened at least twice a week. Wading his way through the crowds of people he finally found Aryana in the same spot she had been last time he had seen her. Walking behind her he’d tap her shoulder a few times. “Thank you for doing me that favor. Madame Curate would like to see you. I think you’ll like what you have to hear.” Varic said to Aryana before leaving and going off to find Snowfall.

Finding snowfall seemed to be more of a challenge however. He had been wandering around the main street for a few minutes knowing that she wouldn’t have walked to far away when she knew Madame Curate would call upon her. Looking up he’d spot a lone figure on top of the wall looking out upon the city. Chuckling to himself he climbed the steps, and snuck up behind Snowfall. “Don’t worry this won’t be the last time you see this place. I say you take the chance and go. Which is what I think the Curate would like to talk to you about.” Varic offered snowfall, and quickly walked down the stairs to make it seemed like he had disappeared. Heading back to the Curates quarters he waited for everyone to show up.

[Aureyon]

Snowfall acknowledged Varics words with a small nod, and waited a few minutes after he disappeared back into the commons to turn from the snowy landscape and begin the trek to the Arch Curates chamber. As she stepped through from the darkness of the outside into the warm and lively interior of the Dining Hall, she found her eyes wandering to a Dunmer that she had noticed was looking at her from afar just before Varic had stolen her attention. She was curious about this one, he did not seem to partake of the festivities that the Falmer had offered, as the majority of his other companions did.

She heard the Captain, Winterblade, call to his crew and amidst the shuffling of the drunken crew members she managed to find her way towards the Dunmer. She tapped his shoulder gently, and whispered into his ear "Meet me upon the wall when you are dismissed from duty. I wish to speak with you, if you are willing to do the same."

Snowfall would have waited for an answer from him, but she had been summoned by the Arch-Curate, so she left the Dunmer without receiving an answer, melting into the crowd of Snow Elves, and disappearing out of the dining hall and into the chamber hall. Her soft footfalls could be heard as she made her way through the hall and to her grandmothers chamber. She stood just outside the door awaiting her grandmother to finish her evening prayers as she has done for as long as she could remember.

Snowfall, however, felt a stirring in her spirit as she prepared for the conversation that was about to take place. She was sure that she would be chosen to aid the Outsiders on their quest, one in which her people have failed many times. But, perhaps the luck of the Falmer had finally begun to turn around, and perhaps with the finding of this Relic that her grandmother seeks the Falmer would be able to rejoin the world again and bring their twisted brethren back into Auriels light.

[Imperial1917]

Progress was slow. The Mer were more cunning than they gave off. Many of their kind were coming to and fro from the area that Isus was making his way towards. They could not have possibly known his intent, but they most certainly would have realized that their attempts to befuddle his senses with drink were miserable failures. Isus wished that he could say the same for the rest of the crew.

The Khajiit had never appeared to Isus to be a particular asset to the Empire, but they had their uses. Staying silent was one of them. Of all the Khajiit that the fool captain chose to accept, however, he seemed to have found the most lively of their kind. Now she danced about with the Mer children, oblivious to the knives that would soon be wet with her blood when they sacrificed her to their heathen gods. But it was not her antics that dismayed Isus the most. It was those of the Nord's.

Perhaps alone among all the crew, the Captain seemed to respect the Nord the most. Now, that did not count for much, but it was something. Most Nords were drunken louts, but they were fierce in combat and could bear down many before falling. A useful feature. They were also a suspicious lot and did not trust others, especially Mer, easily. Isus hoped that this Nord was one of those. Alas, he seemed to only hold the foremost of the three traits. For a time, Isus spied him sitting at one of the tables, devouring meat and taking in drink like most of his kind. Then he took a flagon to the dancing Khajiit. Any hopes Isus might have had that he would prove useful were dashed then. Repulsively, the Nord seemed drunk enough to move his mind to other things.

The Dunmer was probably the worse. He stood off to the side, surveying the scene. For all the blind in Tamriel, it might have looked as though he knew what was coming. But brooding on this, Isus realized that he indeed probably did. The local Mer passing him and whispering into his ear was signal enough. He was most definitely in league with them. Isus saw that another of the natives was watching from a distance and even looking at him. Blasted sorceress! She was probably his commander and he had clearly made his report when no other was looking. No doubt they now knew that Isus would have no problem cutting down their misbegotten kind when the occasion came for it.

It was then that Isus saw the Captain. He looked relatively well and unbloodied. Perhaps he escaped the ambush? Was he that skilled? He was waving his arms about and saying something. Clearly he meant to speak to his crew. Perhaps he was cunning enough to gather their strength before they fought their way out of this cursed place. He might yet prove less the fool Isus thought him to be.

But then Isus paused as he made his way to the Captain. Why would a warrior who has slain vile Mer not be covered in their blood? Surely he did not pause to clean it off. Even he could not be that much of a fool, to waste so much precious time. No... Isus glanced over to the dancing Mer. Could it be? Isus had heard that certain dark rituals could bend the body and mind. Was the Captain bewitched? How could Isus be sure that he did not now serve their dark gods? Gripping his sword's hilt under his cloak, Isus knew that he could not. Not yet, anyways. He realized there was nothing for it as he continued to stride towards the Captain.

He would just have to use the utmost caution and if he had to kill the Captain... well, at least his soul would thank Isus from Aetherius.

[Rayne7]

Graesin had been watching after the meal from a corner, his bow in his hands resting on the ground, an 'at ease' gesture more commonly used with a sword. But he was certain the more trained understood he was merely keeping it where he could attack if need be, though now he suspected they were here for another reason. If the Snow Elves wanted them dead, they had numbers and numerous opportunities to make them that way; no, they wanted something from them and when the officers disappeared into one of the rooms he knew they would find out before the night was over.

As he'd waited for them he'd been watching the rest; the Nord approaching the Khajit in what was a most curiously friendly manner for a Stormcloak, the female herself having given in to the revelry surrounding them. But it was the Templar's actions he watched most, for they were most worrying. Seeming ready for slaughter, he was certainly a paranoid man, given to suspicion of those around him in a manner that was certain to cause bloodshed if left unchecked. It might even be such to broach with the man. Though perhaps now was not the time.

Right as he was certain the Templar was going to get them killed, the Captain returned and called all crew to the fore, apparently to inform them of the reason behind everything that had happened thus far.

[StormWolf]

Starkad watched the Khajiit, the graceful creature from the dunes of Elswyr so out of place amongst the snow drifts and icy crags on the other side of the world. Still, her spirits flowed as warmly and freely as the drink. The Nord's eyes, like chips of ice from the top of the Throat itself, followed Khinada as she emptied out the rest of her flagon. He followed suit, emptying his cup, though smiling slyly at her words, which caused a trickle of the frothy golden ale to trickle down his beard of a similar hue. With nothing in the cup left to drink, Starkad discarded the flagon to the ground, exhaling in satisfaction. After so many cups of the fine drink, the Ice Wolf was beginning to feel the beginning of a tingling sensation in his fingers and a flush spreading over his cheeks and ears. Whether the flush was from the drink or the look Khinada was giving him, Starkad was unsure. It had been far too many moons since he had been in the same room with a woman, let alone had one look at him like a morsel.

Upon hearing her challenge cloaked as a question, the Nord could only smirk, approaching Khinada and placing a hand on the flare of her hips, the other hand slowly following her right arm until his calloused, scarred palm wrapped around her slender hand, pulling her close to his frame of steel chord and sinew,

"A Nord can dance with or without a blade, on his feet or prone." Starkad chuckled low and deep, like a roll of far off thunder. Starkad was about to take the first step when the good Lord-Captain spoke in that booming voice of his, though it felt like cold steel in the Ice Wolf's belly. Starkad hung his head with a wry smile and mirthless chuckle, knowing that Khinada likely felt the same pang of frustration,

"Talos take your impeccable timing, Lord Winterblade..." Starkad muttered lowly into the humid and narrow air between them. Releasing the sly Khajiit, Starkad let his eyes linger a moment before turning to tend to the Lord-Captain's call. Reaching the Lord-Captain's table, Starkad sat himself down, tapping the flat of his knife against his palm,

"What is the cause of slamming an axe in the feast, m'lord?" Starkad asked, those unsettling blue eyes boring into the Captain, Starkad's face frozen in a mask of irritation, at best.

[StormyNyte]

“The spirits as much as the company, my friend…” She said in response to Daimus’s question as Starkad rose to her poorly veiled challenge. Khinada watched him draw closer like a predator would watch its prey until one of the Nord’s large hands cupped her hip and the other took hold of her hand, drawing her with a firm gentleness in against him.

Her breath caught for a heartbeat when he murmured his answer and punctuated it with that deep, rolling chuckle of his. In her current state, it was almost enough to actually draw a purr from her, at least until Captain Winterblade’s thundering voice echoed across the room. With her ears folding back, she tried her best to stifle an irritated sigh as they separated to heed the Captain’s call.

With her tail giving the air behind her an angry lashing, she too made her way over to the captain. Taking a seat in silence, she eyed the other Nord like a hunter who had just been cheated out of a prize catch.

__________________________________________________ ____________________


Aryana was still keeping a close eye on the knight when Varic returned. Turning just enough to face him and still hold the knight in her peripheral, she offered the faintest ghost of a smile. “The Curate herself has summoned me, say you? How curious...” Giving him a brief nod for thanks, she turned and wove her way through the crowd until she was out of the ballroom.

With quick, gliding steps she drew near the Curate’s chambers, her robes billowing out behind her like darked wings as she went. When her icy gaze caught sight of Snowfall standing just outside, she clucked her tongue in annoyance. “Prayers or no, she has called us out. I, for one, intend to wait no longer than absolutely necessary to see what this is all about.” With that, Wraithheart slid past the younger Falmer and shoved the door ajar, entering as unceremoniously as was expected of her nature.

[SikstaSlathalin]

*Arch-Curate*

The Arch-Curate was just returning to her chambers after evening prayer when Aryana barged into her room followed by Snowfall. Millira was used to the eccentric mage's feeling of entitlement, most would've been flogged for such impudence but she would let it pass and hope the Wraithheart would find some humility amongst people who would easily kill her for a transgression despite her magical prowess.
"Impeccable timing as always Aryana, welcome back as well Snowfall. Please join them Varic. Please all of you take a seat." As everyone found a suitable seat the Arch-Curate began.
"Now what I am about to ask you three, is something I know two of you have been waiting for and a third would do because he has adventure in his soul and a sense of duty in his heart." She said smiling softly at them.
"Before you is the opportunity to save our people and leave this island. Captain Winterblade and his crew are about to undertake a perilous and history making quest. They are about to venture into the Bluestone Barrow and retrieve a tome that will show us the way to cure the Betrayed and bring them back to Auriel's embrace. Now I won't force any of you to join them, but I feel it will do you all a world of good. Not only will you be able to see the world outside of our shores but you will show the world the Snow Elves are still alive and not our cursed brethren skulking around old Dwarven ruins and raising Chaurus for food and armor. So who wishes to join in on an adventure?" She asked looking at the three Mer before her.

*Winterblade*

Allester knew some of his crew wouldn't be happy to be yanked from the festivities and it seemed old Iron Bear was right once more. Isus hasn't been happy since they left port so his white-knuckled march wasn't a surprise. The irritated glare he got from Stark and Khinada made him smile though he had been in their position more than once so he knew where the sudden chill had come from. While the Mercs were more divided in their reactions, the Sailors, Lars, Ana, Ortis, Pyke, Minerva, Lucina, Viera, Swims-Swifter, "Jolly" Jakben Gaelin, and Gat gro-Gluk were mostly silent and uniform although Lars and Gat had to hold Ortis up. They weren't warriors but Winterblade would allow them the same chance as the Mercs.
"Take a breath Isus, your heart is going to seize up with all your stress." After he said that he locked eyes with Stark, like two bull mammoths fighting over a spit of breeding ground his strong brown eyes boring right back into Stark's blue one. This was a death sentence for many men in the past, but Allester was possibly one of the two men who could do this and back-up any retribution Stark could dish out the other being High King Ulfric of course. There was also a warrior's respect between the two men. Keeping his eyes on Stark, Allester began speaking.

"I know I interupted the festiviites but I have good reason. The Arch-Curate has just asked a favor of me and by extension all of you. In exchange for reparing our ship and restocking any supplies we lost, she has asked us to rewrite history. Located in an ancient Barrow on this island is a tome that tells of a way to cure the madness of the Falmer and return them to how they once were. She says she has learned this via a vision sent down by the Elvin God Auriel. Now before you start foaming at the mouth Templar Makarus." He said moving his eyes to the perpetually twitchy Imperial.

"I am doing this with the possibly of earning favor, loot, and a chance to give the fullest completion of our mission as possible. Not some kind of conversion to the Elvin Faith. The Barrow is locked with ancient Nordic Runes I know some, but anyone who could know more is welcome to join. Anyone wishing to partake in adventure and earn a share of loot is also welcome, I force no one anyone who doesn't come can sleep in tomorrow, I plan to depart at first light with others or by myself. The armor will be retrieved tonight and made ready for the trek, you have all night to decide, but who is willing to make history right this second?" He asked a faint smile on his lips as he looked around at the gathered faces trying to guess who would sign up first and who would hang back.

[Raindrop]

Mirida stood up in the ballroom after hearing the captain Winterblades request, "As I mentioned earlier, I will accompany you, lord captain." She said boldly, "May I also add-" Mirida started and looked around their crew and mercenaries, "I'll hand out a little extra coin for anyone who decides to sign up right now." this was one of a few ways that Mirida tried to reach out to the people that worked under Winterblade, herself and Daimus.

((Sorry shitty post))

[StormyNyte]

Aryana sat, fingers steepled in front of her and listened as she mulled over Millira’s proposal. Being a team-player certainly wasn’t one of her strong points, but could she really pass up such an opportunity to seize hold of a potentially old and long-forgotten magic as she might find hidden within the labyrinth of Bluestone? What’s more, would she actually allow herself to be left behind once these new-comers set sail? No and no.

With a soft chuckle as cool as chilled silk, she spoke. “If it means relieving my current brethren of my upsetting presence and aiding our misbegotten bloodkin , how I could possibly refuse? How amusing to think, the outcast becomes the hero by doing a deed and vanishing completely…” She laughed at that, glancing to the others. “I suppose the both of you will jump at this chance too, you most of all Snowfall; though I do look forward to some competition from Varic. It’s always nice to know I can still best him in the arcane arts.”

__________________________________________________ ______________

When the captain had said his piece, Khinada scoffed, leaning back in her chair and cupping her hands behind her head. Indeed, it seemed as though the alcohol was still giving her more than her fair share of confidence. “Into an ancient Nord Barrow? Hah, Khinada would be so lucky as to join a task that would trap her in a giant tomb with such a jumpy templar as Isus. Open the barrow, good Captain, and Khinada would complete this task easily. The restless dead will not even know she was there.” A broad smile spread across her dark lips then as she eyed Lord Winterblade. “Khinada only requires that she is permitted to keep what treasures she finds within.”

[Imperial1917]

Isus stood silently as the fool Captain spoke. If he was not truly bewitched by the Mer in some way, then he was clearly all the more owning of the title of fool. And the Mer were all the more cunning.

It was a neat trap they had set. Send the Captain and main fighters away on some suicide mission while they clean up the rest of the crew. They might even string out the crew by misleading them into searching for their missing officers and get them killed by the elements or treacherous blades. If, by some miracle, the officers returned, they would be stranded and outnumbered. Even worse, assuming that what they claimed of this Burrow was true, they would be able to cure their cursed cousins and further swell their ranks with the most depraved of interbreeding. If Falmer numbers were anywhere near what more practical scholars claimed, they could easily begin a war with the Stormcloaks. Oh, the irony that it would be a captain of the Stormcloaks that would enable them to do so.

Still, there were plenty of other possibilities. The Burrow might hide some insidious object of worship or dark power that the Falmer want for their insane gods. The Captain did mention something about one of their depraved objects of worship. Or perhaps it was all a ruse in a much longer-term scheme. That the crew still drew breath made it clear that the Mer had some modicum of patience with their scheming. It could be that this was a relatively simple task they were sending the crew on so as to build some misguided trust when it was over. Then they could send agents to the mainland. The Storm Breaker would become a plague ship.

Then, of course, there was the Captain himself. The Fool Incarnate, if Isus ever saw one. Even setting aside Isus' misgivings about the Mer - a difficult prospect at best - the truth was that there was a great amount of risk in this proposal with comparatively little reward.

First there was repairing the ship. Isus was a Son of Ebonheart and all that had made it known to him that smart ships carried supplies to repair damage when they set sail. Not only was the damage to the Storm Breaker rather minor as far as Isus had seen, it was also something that the ship's crew should be able to repair on their own. Then again, what did Isus know of the customs of Nordic sailors? But then, the crew were from the Sailor's Guild, so they couldn't be that incompetent.

Not only that, but Isus had doubts that the Mer even knew how to repair the ship. As far as he had seen, their only settlement was very well land-locked and going nowhere fast. Whether or not they even had shipwrights was questionable. Certainly, the fact that not one of them had been sighted on the mainland in decades was indication that they never left this island. For that matter, it was entirely possible that they had never left this island before at all! It was one thing to stare at the sea and quite another to build a ship capable of sailing on it.

Then there was the loot problem. Isus remembered that the contract had said something about the spoils of the adventure, but he had never really put much thought into the matter. He was no mercenary. He was a Templar. Certainly, few of the others really looked the mercenary type. Where they were not former cohorts of the Captain's by way of the Stormcloaks or another, they seemed to be wanderers. Exactly who was he appealing to with promises of loot? Most in their position would be satisfied with just getting the pay and staying away from the dangers.

Following that was the mission they were actually on. This spit of land they stood on was not that large and it was not recorded anywhere in recent memory. Yes, its proximity to Skyrim could make it useful, but that was highly unlikely, especially as these Mer were so isolated. Setting out on a quest which risked life and limb to buy the confidence of some inbred Mer huddled away in the coldest, darkest part of Tamriel was hardly more valuable than fixing the ship by themselves with all due speed and making for the nearest port on the mainland that could actually affect real repairs and offer more meaningful uses of life and limb. They still had a long way to go and this quest was already off to a very bad start.

Simply put, objective assessment judged that this would be a terrible, terrible waste of time, even if the Mer weren't already prepared to backstab them.

Still, the fool Captain had clearly made his point. Unsurprisingly, the First Mate voiced her desire to accompany him. The Khajiit followed suit. The way the bulky Nord had been eyeing the Khajiit, as repulsive as the idea was, meant that he would probably go as well. So it came down to practicality for Isus. The Mer would make their move eventually, probably through puppets they sent along with the crew to the Burrow or beyond. The best place for Isus to be then would be in the location where the strongest resistance could be mounted. Which, in this case, was around the Captain, even if he wouldn't realize what was going on until his First Mate was eviscerated by the Mer.

"I will go." he said simply.

At the very least, he would get his armor back and a chance to foil whatever plot the Mer had cooked up. And the faster this was done, the faster they were off this ice block.

[Jacogos]

Daimus nearly leapt out of his skin when a tap came on his shoulder, followed by the smooth voice of the Snow Elf they had met before. Before he could even answer her, however, she was gone again, slipping away into the crowd. The Dunmer found himself searching for her motionlessly for a moment, then shook himself for being so caught off guard, returning his attention to the Captain's words. Though hew knew the news already, hearing the quest again from this angle made him question its soundness all the same. Just what are we walking in to...? he wondered. Nevertheless, he made himself answer the Captain once more.

"I'll be coming along, against my better judgement," Daimus announced. "I'm more of a maker of blades than a wielder, but having a bit of magic on your side isn't the worst place to be in a dangerous underground cavern." The Dunmer smirked a bit at Khinada's answer, but found himself being slightly startled by the Templar's answer. He was going along, too? Simple as that?

Most likely he doesn't want to be near the Falmer any more than he has to... Daimus thought grimly. Nothing left now but to wait on the rest of the answers, so Daimus kept where he was, pondering the invitation he had just received from the Falmer woman.

[Rayne7]

Graesin was mildly surprised at the opportunity they had been provided so early in their venture. An ancient Nordic Ruin would offer little in reward, he was sure, but if he was lucky enough to find a grand soul gem or two and an arcane enchanter, he would be satisfied. Though if he was honest, he had been itching for a fight and this was perfect to take the edge off.

As he listened to the officers, he wasn't surprised until the Templar said he would come. Then again, it made sense; it kept him with the fighters of the group and got him away from the snow elves. At least, most of them as Grae suspected they would get a guide or two to help them reach their destination. That being said, now it was also obvious why they weren't being ambushed; the snow elve's lack of expertise in the ruins and the dangers involved was much better suited to be placed on the shoulders of strangers, and Nords were notorious for risking their lives for honor's sake alone, much less coin.

In light of the events, Graesin had much interest in what would happen on this excursion.

"My bow is yours to command, Captain."

[Aureyon]

Snowfall listened to the Arch-Curates words and a grin played upon her features, that made her resemble a child who had seen the snow of Roscrea for the first time. This would be her chance to get away from Roscrea and the Bastion, to explore what the world had to offer, and to spread the influence of the Falmer in a way that her twisted brethren could not; She, and those that accompanied her, could be the bridge that brought the Children of Auri-El into the modern world once again, for too long they have lived in the shadows and taint of their twisted brethren. It was time to show that Snow Elves were not all twisted as those that crowd the various regions of Tamriel.

"I will go, My lady." Snowfall said standing and bowing slightly before turning away and eyeing the landscape from the single window that provided a natural ambiance in the Arch-Curate chambers. She was practically bouncing in excitement and eagerness at the chance to explore Tamriel. But, then her mind found its way back to the Dunmer that she had requested a meeting with and her eagerness was replaced with a nervousness that she had never felt before; she wasn't a naturally nervous elf.

Snowfall had noticed Daimus when she had pulled the stunt on the Outsiders' ship, but she was sure that he thought that she hadn't seen him. Her curiosity at why a Dunmer was onboard a ship with so many different races, and a grouchy templar, was lit at that point. So, she had chosen to set up a meeting with him, seeking to get information and answers to questions that couldn't be answered by her own people.

[StormWolf]

The Ice Wolf listened intently as the Lord-Captain spoke of this lost Barrow, the burly Nord fiddling mindlessly with the knife in his hand. His golden brow was knit together into an absent scowl as he mulled the Lord-Captain's words like wine, letting the details ferment a few moments before coming to a conclusion. Twirling the knife in his palm, Starkad slipped the blade back into its sheath before resting his powerful arms on the table, picking a wedge of cheese from a nearby plate and stuffing it in his mouth.

"I shall go," said Starkad around a mouthful of food. Finding a goblet with at least two fingers worth of wine. He sniffed the drink and groaned before washing down the food with the pungent liqueur. "I was brought up on the ancient ways of the Nord. My clan reaches back to before the crossing of Ysgramor and his Companions. I can translate the runes for you, Lord-Captain." Starkad said in his usual gruff tone, his expression still one of frustration and something like an animal in a cage. The way his eye flicked across the room and settled on those who dared to lock with his gaze. The mighty Nord set the goblet down and scratched his chin, scrubbing away flecks of food and droplets of drink.

"If that is all, m'Lord," Starkad said with a grunt as he pushed himself up from the table with his sinuous arms, "I am going to turn in for the night, maybe indulge in the luxury of a bath since I doubt one will be readily available in the foreseeable future." Starkad threw a quick and sly glance to Khinada before departing the feast hall. Starkad backtracked his steps to the living quarters they had been assigned to and quickly found the baths. The Nord filled the copper tub with spring water and stoked the coals beneath the metal basin. His muscles were sore from sailing through the storm, the fatigue only now settling in after being at rest for so long. In the cold and silent solitude of the bath house, Starkad pondered the Barrows he would be climbing into come the break of dawn. Huffing a deep sigh, the Nord unclasped the ivory fittings of his leather jerkin, peeling the fur-lined garment off of his broad shoulders to bare a powerful torso of pale stone, marked with scars and tattoos of an old and swirling design bearing the ancient Nordic scrawl. His chest and stomach was lined with hair like most Nord men, flowing with the contours of his physique and patchy in some places due to scars. Kicking off his boots and trousers and smallclothes, Starkad stood bare in the cold air a moment before dipping himself into the tub. As soon as the heated water reached his collarbone Starkad's blue eyes rolled back in his head as he let out a low sigh that bordered on a growl of contentment.

There was a passing of time Starkad was lost to as he soaked in the mineral-rich spring water, heated to perfection. For the first time in a long time, Starkad felt a peace - liberated from the weight that had stooped his great shoulders. Was it the drink mixed with the hot water? Probably, but here he was bathing in the quarters of a race he and the rest of Tamriel had long thought turned into nothing more than gibbering, shadow-haunting monsters. He has been reunited with an old friend and ally and if not for that friend's impertinence, Starkad may have company in the very tub he sat it. The Ice Wolf recalled his time in the Stormcloaks under Lord Winterblade, how the old bear had done very much of the same thing that he did at the banquet. Still, unlike the girls Allester had driven off from the Stormcloak barracks and camps, Khinada had the fire of determination in her eyes. She was Khajiit of the boldest blood, a huntress through and through. Just from the closeness he shared with her in the feast hall, he knew Khinada would not rest until she got her prize. Starkad chuckled and smirked at the thought.

[enaz]

Listining to the Curate Varic chewed on his pipe thinking of what she was saying. He had spent his whole life among the Mer, and always wanted to travel. However now that it was put before him he had no clue whether to take it or not. As he chewed on the pipe he heard the other two's answers before he finally decided. "Yes mam I do believe I will take this opportunity." Then turning his head toward Aryana after hearing her statement he slightly chuckled. "You always had a few years on me when it came to age but as far as the arcane goes I'd say we're about even. Theres no need to make it a contest, we're both of the same race and are going on the same quest. " Varic answered before relaxing back in his chair waiting to hear what else the Curate had in store for them.

[SikstaSlathalin]

*Arch-Curate*

Pleased she was right in her reckoning Millira dismissed Aryana and Snowfall but placed a soft hand' on Varic's arm keeping him in place as the other two leave. Once they were gone she waved her hand and the door to her chambers swung silently shut she looked at her guard and spoke softly in the Falmer tongue.
"I am most pleased, you have chosen to go on this mission Varic. I have a special request of you, I will bring it to Captain Winterblade's attention as well but I feel you should hear it first." She moved behind her dressing screen made of what looked like a curtain of gentle snow. "While I trust most of our guests not to blatantly destroy the tome we need. I don't know if any of them know how to take care of it properly. And that Templar strikes me as the type to destroy anything that doesn't have to do with his Eight Divines. What I am asking of you, my trusted guard is that when the Tome is found only you handle it until it is in my hands. Can you do this for me? For our people?" She walked back into view wearing long white pants, a blue blouse and warm silver boots. Her hair was done up in a simple ponytail and she was wearing the amulet Varic had made for her.


*Winterblade*

After the others spoke their interest in the journey Jornheim, Arorn, and Sovia who had been very silent this whole time finally spoke. "I will lend my arm." Said the deliberate Nord. "I..I will go too, two Magic Users are better than one." Says the Crew's youngest member. "And three Magic Users will be better than two." Says the older Altmer. The Crew had been conversioning amongst themselves while the Mercs threw their hats into the ring. They were sailors not warriors, and even if they'd get a chance at some loot none of them were actually trained fighters. Everyone knew about the hazards the Nord barrows held, undead, giant spiders, Skeevers, and traps that had somehow lasted through the ages. No one on the crew was a coward but none of them were stupid either, they'd sit out this one. Once it was decided Lars spoke for them all.
"We will help the Snow Elves repair the ship Captain, we're of more use doing that then diving into old ruins." The Sailors nodded in agreement.

The Lord-Captain, knew that would be the case with them and he was glad to be right. The group was already large enough for diving into a Barrow without adding the Sailors to the mix. He smiled lightly at the Mercs.
"You will all get to keep what loot we find, just don't destroy any possibly historical artifacts. Those will need to be preserved and catalogued. That aside what you find is fair game just remember, only take what you can carry yourself and fit in your sea chest. No one is your Pack Mule unless they offer to be. That's all I have for now, you are all dismissed to go get your gear, wash up and rest, or continue partying. We are still leaving at first light so I wouldn't recommend the last one. See you all in the morning." With a final nod to everyone the old Nord rose from the table and stretched his back out before making his way through the commons.

[Jacogos]

Daimus left the 'party' thoughtfully, eyebrows furrowed as they did when he was alone with his own thoughts. He was only slightly reassured by the Captain's confidence in the Snow Elves' hospitality, enough so that he didn't expect any funny business as he was sure the Templar was. That might've been enough to keep him from being more aware of his surroundings than he was now, but truthfully, he simply didn't really care if someone jumped out at him with the intent to kill right now. He had other things to worry about.

One would think he'd be concerned about the quest they were given; unlike him, most of the crew had been rather excited to go on this adventure, at least as far as he could tell. Even the Templar was going, which Daimus could swear there had to be a better reason behind other than 'just because'. He had no idea what that reason was, but again, he wasn't really bothered by it.

No, Daimus was anxious. The fetching Snow Elf the crew had encountered before on the ship had invited him to chat secludedly (or so he assumed). Out of the blue, and with such surprise that he had to stop himself from yelping. He was used to the Skaal's clumsy and loud way of advancing and the Dark Elves' more subtle yet still noticeable gait. The Falmer girl had been as quiet as... well, a Khajiit. Yet it was more the lack of apparent reason that he was concerned with. What did she want? Was it really to simply chat? Did she know of the Curate's offer? The questions buzzed through Daimus's head louder than the ring of his hammer, but he found no viable answers for them.

Slowly approaching the stairs that he remembered seeing on his way back to the crew the first time, Daimus paused as he contemplated the legality of him even being here. Was this area off-limits? Surely there would be guards if so... Shaking his head in exasperation at himself, Daimus moved up the stairs and began looking around for the Snow Elf maiden.

Snowfall had assured her grandmother that she would be aiding the outsiders in their quest into the Nord Ruins on the island. She would be happy to take part in furthering her peoples' knowledge and to bring knowledge of her people to the world beyond; long had she wanted to do so, and yet she had only just now been given the opportunity. Auri-El seemed to have given her his favor this day, though she was far from a pilgrim.

As soon as she had delivered her answer, she excused herself from her grandmothers chambers and made her way through the dining hall, once again, and out into the cold darkness that was Roscrea. Her feet, laid bare against the snow, barely made prints in the white softness as she stepped across it towards the wall, upon which she had requested a meeting with the Dunmer. In truth, she herself didn't know the reason why she had requested a chat with him, but she had to come up with something fast to speak to him, or risk looking a fool or blabbering idiot.

As she neared the wall, she saw that the Dunmer had arrived before her, and sighing inwardly she made her way up the cold stone steps and stopped just shy of the last step before reaching the top of the wall.

"Thank you for coming, Daimus, was it?", she questioned, her soft voice being carried to his ears by the icy wind. She eyed him with gentle eyes filled with a natural curiosity, and then her eyes fell to the ground again, a slight blush creeping upon her pale cheeks.

"I am to accompany your party to the place of the Nord dead, and assist you in whatever way that I am able."

That certainly caught Daimus off guard. His eyes widened momentarily, then his furrowed brow returned, recalling many things at once. "Truly? No doubt you're one of the ones the Arch-Curate meant, then... Though forgive me for my terrible memory, but aren't you the same woman that... er, met us out on the ship?" He recalled how that ended with a bit of embarrassment, hoping that he hadn't just brought something bad up.

He also didn't really have that bad a memory; he was simply being careful on the off chance that there were two similar appearing Falmer in this impressively large settlement. The fact that this one looked the delicate maiden what with her dress and appearance was completely at odds with the supple yet deadly warrior that had met them out on the ship.

Snowfall laughed softly, her laugh sounding similar to bells, "I am the very same. It was pressed upon me to wear my current attire for it would not due for one in my position to come to a feast in armor and carrying a weapon. Your...friends already do not trust us; that would have given them further reason to mistrust our intentions."

She looked off into the distance, eyeing the sea with a look of longing and curiosity. She then turned back to Daimus a few minutes later and her hair blew gently in the breeze revealing her pale face and bright eyes gazing upon Daimus in a look of excitement and eagerness.

"Tell me of the world beyond the ocean? Where have you been? What have you seen? Where are you going?", the questions that she wanted to ask were limitless as she had never been off the island, and now that she had someone right in front of her that had been exploring, she would get at least a degree of the answers that she sought.

Daimus fond himself smiling slightly, holding up his hands as if to fend of the tirade of questions. "Hold on a second, I can only answer one at a time, hah..." he managed to get it, studying her thoughtfully. So there's no doubt that these Falmer have never left this island... How many more like her yearn to rejoin the world beyond these shores? he wondered, shaking his head as he caught himself staring.

"Although, If I may first ask... I don't think I ever learned your name," Daimus put in, thankful that his race's dark complexion made it nigh impossible to tell if they were blushing.

Snowfall blushed visibly and eyed the ground, "My name is Snowfall. And, forgive me for not introducing myself sooner; I tend to lack in manners at times.", she added with a slight smile returning to her features as she looked up into the Dunmers red eyes. As she looked into his eyes she found her arm reaching out and gently touched the side of his face. After leaving it there for a few minutes she retracted it slowly, and a deep blush sprouted upon her cheeks.

"I...As I said, a lack of manner at times.", she put in softly turning back towards the ocean and away from the dark elf. She felt a rush of emotion fill her veins and her heart began to beat rapidly, and her body began to warm despite the icy sting of the wind. She stepped closer to the edge of the wall and let her hair hide her face from the Dunmer, partly in embarrassment and shame, and partly because there was a large grin forming on her features.

"I.. Uh... well... Um..." Daimus stammered, noticeably unsettled by the sudden touch. The usual inability to notice Dunmer blushing was overruled by the amount of blood rushing to his cheeks at the moment. "I... Snowfall is a, uh, very pretty name..." he managed. Azura's tits, since when have you ever been so tongue-tied by someone, Daimus? Get a grip! The smooth-talking blacksmith, struck speechless by a pretty face. How his mentor would laugh! Mirroring the Falmer, Daimus turned to look out over the sea, training his face to lose its blush. Or trying to.

Snowfall grinned widely when she heard Daimus' struggle to find words, and it took all her strength not to burst out in genuine laughter. The fire that was rising in her veins was intense, it caused cravings that she had never felt before, and had never expected to feel at so young an age, and especially with an Outsider. Oh, Snowfall you are a fool. Your father will never approve of this, and Auri-el only knows what your grandmother would say about it. You should leave, now. And, don't go on the quest with them. Return to your duties, forget about the outsiders, and live a life protecting your people!, she ignored what her mind was telling her and stepped slightly closer to Daimus.

"Forgive me, Daimus. That was out of line and... well, unexpected. I have never seen much of an outsider before, and I was curious to how... how they feel.", she attempted to mask her actions with a feeble lie. She knew how feeble it was, but it made her feel slightly better about the situation to think that there is a chance that he would believe it.

"So, tell me, to whom do you send your prayers?", she inquired attempting to forget what had just transpired between the two mer.

"Feel?!" Daimus question a little too enthusiastically. Coughing once or twice to try and recover, the Dark Elf turned his head to look at her again, surprised to find a wide grin on her face. "I... suppose we feel like any other elf, you know," he chuckled nervously. My my... what have you gotten yourself into, Daimus? Whatever was going on inside the Snow Elf's mind, Daimus was surprised to feel a bit of sadness alongside the eagerness at changing the subject... that is, until he realized what she had asked.

I wonder... do they know what Daedra are? Best play this safe... he thought. Though... lying wouldn't be the best way to start... er... whatever this may turn out to be... "Most of the... um, 'outsiders' as you call us, believe in the Nine Divines. That would be a pantheon including Akatosh, Arkay, Dibella... er, Julianos, Kynareth... Mara, Stendarr... Zenithar... and the Man-God Talos." My, the fact that that sounded like I was being quizzed certainly didn't help anything... He thought with another blush. "You were full of questions a second ago," he stated with a slight chuckle. "I didn't ... er, scare them out of ya, right?"

She listened thoughtfully as Daimus spoke, answering her question; In truth she knew what his kind worshipped she just wanted to see if he would have answered her. However, the sadness that flooded her heart surprised her, and she lifted her hand to rest upon her chest.

"The Nine Divines.... Kynareth.... The Humans Gods!", she exclaimed a little too loud. It seemed to disturb the relative silence that had been between them, and any sense of discomfort faded quickly. She turned to face him again, and she eyed him quizzically. She had read quite a lot over the years about the Outsiders, but for each book she read the questions only grew.

"Of course not, my curiosity rages inside me. I just have far too many questions that need answering. I do not want to bombard you with senseless questions when we will be spending quite a while together during our adventures.", she answered him softly. Her eyes again finding their way to his.

"We'll be adventuring together, then, will we?" Daimus asked with the hint of a smile and a raised eyebrow. "I suppose a quest into an old Nordic ruin suffices for a bit of adventure... You make it sound like you'll be around for far longer than that, though." Daimus chuckled again, wondering if she was suggesting what he thought she was. There was no doubt she was curious about life off this island... But was she that curious? He found himself toying with the idea of roaming Tamriel with a woman like her, seeing the sights, living off what they could find and barter... And immediately began to blush again. Curse my wandering mind...

"Oh, dear Daimus, I have no plans of staying on Roscrea. After the nordic burial tomb, I am leaving with your crew to explore the world and bring word that there are still those of the ancient past that live in the modern world. I go to free my twisted brethren from their curse.", Snowfall answered calmly, another gentle smile playing upon her lips. Her eyes were twinkling with joy and excitement at the idea of traveling the world with Daimus... Thoughts that should not cross her mind came in droves.

Daimus took the answer a lot quicker than he thought he would've had it been a different person. I wonder if the Captain knows of this, was his first thought, which surprised him. He also realized belatedly that he was smiling like a fool. "Sounds like everything's planned out then," Daimus laughed, still smiling quite widely. "I was actually hoping... er, rather, it would be wonderful to have you aboard, Snowfall," he said with a slight bow. "I'm rather surprised that your people are going to allow it. They've been quite amicable to us, but hardly completely trusting either."

Snowfall nodded sharply, "My people have no say in what I do. I am my own person and I forge my own destiny. But, would you trust a group of weapon, and spell-wielding, Outsiders that came upon your island? Your people do not trust us, as we do not trust you. It is the way of strangers, but you are far better treated than the last group that came to the island... They sought treasure and riches, they put our people in harms way, and they were slaughtered." She spoke so matter-of-factly that it almost seemed as if she had a hint of annoyance layering her words.

"All very good points," Daimus admitted, shaking his head. Thank Azura that they had managed to stumble upon this place as victims of a ship-wreck instead of their normal goal, which might've involved the aforementioned treasure-hunting. "Although I'm rather sure there's a slight difference between our two islands," he said with a smirk. Solstheim was quite the opposite of Roscrea, in more than just its inhabitants. "Well, besides the fact that where I come from doesn't have the beautiful... Snow Elves." Good save, dumbass...

"You are too kind Daimus. Surely you must have someone close to you in your homeland?", she inquired innocently, though her motives were not as innocent as she was pretending...

Daimus shook his head, blushing again. "I have no significant other, no. Blacksmithing tends to keep one out of the social aspects of life, unless it involves coin..." Don't you dare. Don't do it, Daimus. You'll regret it! "And what of you? Fancy any of the men on Roscrea?"

At that, Snowfall burst into genuine laughter and mirth, her face held a wide smile that showed her pearly white teeth, and her eyes twinkled with humor. She was far more aware of what he was talking about than she was leading him to believe, although she didn't see him using coin to get in the bed of a woman, well she wouldn't believe that he would do that.

"Not until recently, no; None have struck my 'fancy' as you say", she peered directly into his eyes, her silver hair swaying gently in the light breeze that blew around them. The winter storm seemed to have lost its power as they were speaking. The world seemed to grow silent in anticipation of the growing desire within Snowfall.

Daimus found himself laughing alongside her, as laughter tended to be contagious. It subsided into a smile that stayed as she answered. Daimus shivered, not quite from the cold either. "Recently, was it?" he murmured, returning her gaze. He had never played the 'suitor' before, but he was quite certain he knew what he was seeing in her eyes. "How recently might that be?"

She eyed him curiously, unsure of whether to answer his question or dodge it with another. But, she decided to save time and just answer truthfully, "I thought he might've been a potential, but it was confirmed tonight", she answered softly, her eyes gazing into the moon and stars above the two mer. They had been out here for a long time now, and she was unsure if he was comfortable or if he was cold, as she was used to this weather and he was not.

Daimus was quiet for a moment, thoughtful. He wondered to himself if he was jumping to conclusions about Snowfall for a moment, getting the wrong idea. One way to find out, he supposed. He stepped a bit closer to the Snow Elf woman. "Alright, I'm curious. Who are we talking about?"

She watched as Daimus stepped closer to her, and she moved closer to him. "You and I both know who I am speaking of, Daimus." Her blue eyes would not move above his neckline as she was stepping closer to him, she stopped as she felt his body heat radiating against her skin, and she could almost hear his breathing.

He felt himself tense for a moment, as if it suddenly all came crashing home what they had been talking about the past few minutes. He shivered slightly, feeling her body press against his own. I suppose I did at that... he thought to himself. Foregoing any form of subtlety he had left in him, Daimus reached a hand up, delicately tilted her head up by her chin, and proceeded to kiss her.

Snowfall tensed as Daimus' hand tilted her head to face him, and then proceeded to kiss her. Her eyes closed as a rush of feelings flooded through her body as their lips met for the first time. A fire began to spread through her entire body causing her to lean closer into Daimus and his warmth. A few moments later she returned the kiss with a slight hunger for more. However, she broke away from the kiss, a small smile playing at the edge of her lips and a yearning for more in her eyes.

Daimus fought the look of longing that threatened to overtake his features as she pulled back, settling for that small smile he had been wearing for the past few minutes. She had certainly kissed back, but now Daimus was quite at a loss for how to proceed. The most prominent course made him shiver, again not from the cold, as chilling as it was. He opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn't put the words out. "I... Uh... We..."

"Yes, perhaps we should return to our prospective duties? We will be spending much time together from hereafter. There will be time for more", she stated, laying heavy emphasis on the word more before turning back to the Ocean beyond, now shining in the beautiful pale moonlight. This night had become increasingly interesting after the events that had just transpired, as snowfall seemed to be at a loss for words herself which was something that did not often happen.

Her words snapped him back to reality as he suddenly remembered quite a few things all at once. The most important of those was the fact that he and his crew had a designated sleeping area and he might be missed if he didn't return soon. Though the Templar might not care for him, Daimus had little doubt the man needed any better reason to begin cutting his way out than the 'hope' that one of them had been ambushed and taken in the night.

"Aye, you're right. I should be getting back to the crew anyway," he said quickly, somehow knowing he didn't sound that eager to be leaving. He left the 'more' unquestioned, letting his mind idly draw up whatever fancies he might wish. "Good night, Snowfall," he said in farewell, taking only a moment to look at her silhouette against the moon's light before striding off towards the rooms they had been given.

[Rayne7]

Graesin noted the others responses and waited until his dismissal before leaving the feasting hall, making his way back through the hallways until he stepped out into the open air. Stopping just outside the bastion, he ignored the looks as he closed his eyes and took in a deep breath of the cold air, just taking a moment to not feel enclosed by walls and people. After a long moment he exhaled, his breath steaming the air as he opened his eyes and looked around.

In all honesty, he didn't feel like returning to their quarters in the Bastion; there was bound to be tension especially with the Templar's attitude about Mer. He supposed the Captain might dislike not having everyone there, but at the moment, Grae didn't care. Tomorrow there was a chance they could all be dead, and he wasn't about to squander his night before the fight. So he went to the ship and collected his armor, putting it into his pack instead of wearing it, then went back into the city.

After some searching he found a street filled with red lanterns, and he knew he had found what he was looking for. Going into one of the buildings, he paid for a room, a bottle of ale, and the services of two of their women before disappearing for the night. And if in the morning he had scratches down his back and he smelled of evergreens, then at least they wouldn't ask where he'd been.

[enaz]

Varic was about to leave the room when he felt the Curate touch his arm. Obliging her he stayed and waited to here what she had to say. However when she started to speak in the Falmar language Varic was on his guard. It had to have been of the utmost importance if she reverted to it. Bowing his head and answering in the same language Varic would say "I understand mam, I saw the imperial earlier and I'm sad to say I don't have much faith in him either. If I must I will kill him or anyone else that tries to destroy the tome." After finishing his statement Varic would wait just a bit longer for the Curate to finish saying what she needed tom and when she dismissed him he'd leave the room, and head back to his home for the night where he would rest till first light.

[StormyNyte]

The Nord’s quick glance was not lost on Khinada, who answered it with the slightest of smirks. She lingered for a few moments once he had taken his leave, giving herself the time to partake in a final sickly-sweet drought of confidence. Once the mug was emptied, she quietly slipped away from the rest of the group and made her way outside.

Once the cool air enveloped her, she took a deep and steadying breath. Tomorrow morning the whole lot of them would be making their way into the depths of the unknown where the restless dead still roamed. With that thought in mind, she resolved to follow through with her previous plan.

As quick and quiet as a shadow, she made her way back to the living quarters and easily slipped unnoticed into the baths. Her yellow eyes gleamed in the dim light as she silently approached the nude hulk of a man steaming in his tub from behind. Without a word, she slid effortlessly out of her own garments before reaching out her hand to trail a single clawed finger across the rippled landscape of his muscular shoulders.

When she spoke, her voice was a low and husky purr. “Enjoying the last night of comfort before stalking once more into the breach? Perhaps a bit of company would sweeten your enjoyment, yes…” Her hand then came to rest on his on top of his left shoulder, flexing her claws just enough to press into the skin without breaking it. As soon as her claws came in to contact with Starkad's skin it was riddled with goosebumbs. The pale flesh of his shoulders tightened as his hackles rose on the back of his neck. As she clenched down lightly on him with one set of claws, Starkad's mouth pulled into a grin as his eyes slowly opened. Tilting his head back against her, Starkad looked up into Khinada's golden eyes over her light figure and the supple mounds of her breasts. A toothy smile broke across Starkad's face slowly, a soft chuckle sounding in his chest not unlike a purr of his own,

"One must learn to enjoy life when they can..." Starkad raised his powerful and sinuous arms out of the steaming surface of the water, one hand resting atop hers as the other wrapped around her waist, a powerful hand wrapping around the firm cheek of her left buttock, giving her a squeeze in return. "I have forgotten how pleasant the company of a fair woman can be." said Starkad as he drew her hand to his mouth, his lips brushing over the silk-soft fur of her knuckles,

"Climb in, dear..." Starkad spoke in a near-growl, "The night can get much more comfortable." said the large Nord. She returned the smile as she slowly drew away from his grasp long enough to slip into the tub, a pleased sigh escaping her lips as she lowered her body beneath the water. Her eyelids fluttered closed for a moment as she let warm water soothe her tired muscles and help clear the haze in her mind. "Mm... a good idea, indeed... " Her eyes were slow to open, but when they did she let her gaze linger on the many scars and markings that decorated his body.

Reaching out, she tenderly traced her fingers over the scars of his chest. "So many warrior's tales your body has to tell, Starkad..." Her eyes met his then, searching. "Do you know nothing of fear?" In that moment there was closeness between them Starkad had not felt in a long, long time. His smile slowly faded to little more than a smirk as she asked her question as Khinada's slender fingers following the jagged paths cut into his flesh. His eyes did not stray from hers for a moment, not even to bat a lash. In his eyes she could see a raging fire, but an icy chill and a darkness neigh unfathomable. Taking a deep breath, Starkad searched for words as he touch made his chest hairs stand on end.

"Of course I do. A man who claims to know no fear is either a liar or a fool. It is how a man acts in the face of fear that defines him." Starkad's voice was low and rumbling and seemed to vibrate the copper tub the two of them were now lounging in. Starkad's memories flashed to the fields of war across Skyrim, the unnamed fields that drank the blood of men and women beyond counting. With every scar Khinade touched, he remembered the cut that left it. The Altmer dagger, the Imperial sword, the sabercat's claw... each time Starkad remembered the icy grip of fear wrapping around him, threatening to strangle his will. "Submitting to fear is a choice, one that many make without their knowing." Starkad reached out to her in turn, cupping her cheek in a powerful hand, his thumb stroking the soft fur beneath her eye,

"And you, my lithe huntress..." Starkad said, his smile returning, his eyes smoldering as they looked into hers, "What tales do your body have to tell?" he said, his voice was deep and dark as the night but smooth as oiled leather. As Starkad spoke his other hand stroked her thigh, following the gradual flare of her hips to the pinching of her waist, his hand coming to rest. Her eyes closed once more as she nuzzled against the warmth of his calloused hand, the muscles in her thigh and stomach tightening ever so slightly in responce to his touch. Opening her eyes and leaning closer into him, she spoke in little more than a whisper "It tells nothing yet of brave deeds, duty, or honor in battle..." Pressing her other hand against the rippled muscles of his stomach, she placed a soft, chaste kiss on his lips. "But the story is still largely unwritten..." Starkad's lips tingled at her kiss, a warmth washing over his entire body from that one touch that was sweeter than Sovengarde's own celestial mead. Pulling her to him, the Nord repaid her words with a kiss of his own, powerful and passionate as the man himself as he wrapped his tree-trunk like arms around her. For a man of the cold north, his blood ran hot, burning through him like wildfire as his veins swelled against the surface of his skin.

"The best stories need not be told. The finest memories... shared between two people... sweeter than wine and more intoxicating than the purest skooma." Starkad panted, his chest rumbling with a throaty growl. Nuzzling his head against hers, Starkad bit down on the nape of her neck firmly, feeling her soft flesh between his teeth, hands wandering from her back down to the small of her back, then over the firm, rounded form of her bottom beneath the surface. "This will be a memory I'll take with me, wherever I go..." he panted into her ear, nipping at the lobe as he ground his body against hers. She drank in his kiss as massive arms enveloped her in their firm embrace. A fire was building deep inside her and when his teeth closed on the skin of her neck it sent waves of electrical sensations tingling down her spine, bringing her toes to curled and muscles low in her body to tighten. Her mouth formed surprised "O" as she shivered against him, her areolas now quite noticable against him.

With her breath coming ever more frantic, she burried her face into the softer flesh of the crook of his neck and shoulder, kissing and nipping before closing again on his salty-sweet lips as her hands worked their way around to his back, claws digging into his flesh as though she intended to climb through him. The soft velvet fur of her stomach slid along the front of his body like silk as she moved against him, there was no mistaking that she wanted him and no hiding how much so in that moment. The Nord's eyes rolled back in his head as her claws sank into the thick muscles of his back. Screwing his eyes shut, Starkad breathed in her scent and relished the softness of her silk-soft fur and taut figure against his own. Gripping her hips forcibly, Starkad growled deeply in his chest as his blood rose as high as his body would allow.

Pulling her hips to his, Starkad and Khinada joined. Like sword and sheath, they came together to be one being - one mass of coiled limbs and frantic breaths. There was a short pause, the span of several heartbeats before they began to move together, their bodies flowing in a unified and constant rhythm, churning the water into a choppy sea with their movements, spilling the steaming bath water over the lip of the copper tub, sizzling on the coals underneath. Their union sent an electrifying surge up Starkad's spine, making his chest and cheeks flush from the heat brewing and broiling around, between, and within them.

The sensation of their forbidden dance was enough to cause Khinada's spine to arch and soon she was tossing back her head and singing wordless praise as their bodies churned together beneath the sloshing surface. She clung to Starkad's body like it was the last link to life. So blinded by sensation was she that she didn't realize that her claws had sunk even deeper, sending small rivulets of crimson trickling down his back. As their passionate dance continued, neither of them seemed to notice that the tub they were occupying was beginning a precarious dance of its own.

Pain and pleasure mixed within Starkad as he felt Khinada's claws hook his flesh, leaving her mark on his broad back and streaked his back with burgundy rivulets. Throwing his head back, Starkad roared out loudly, his arms crushing her against him. The force of the action tipped the copper tup, spilling the water and the coiled couple onto the cold stone floor. Rolling across the tile, Starkad planted his powerful arms into the floor, stopping their tumble and slamming the Khajiit against the cold stone. Unperturbed, their dance continued. Time became a blur to them as their shared and fevered warmth warded off the sly and creeping fingers of cold. The world fell away as Starkad's mind focused solely on the woman with which he was coupling. His heart pounded against the cage of his chest, making every extremity throb, his head pounding with euphoria as his spice danced with waves and ripples of pleasure the likes of which had been long lost on him.

Together, Khinada and Starkad shouted out as rapture overtook them in unison, filling them with oblivion as their bodies tensed against one another. Khinada, in her climax, raked her claws deeply across Starkad's back, leaving deep grooves in his thick skin. Grunting and scrunching his face into a wince, Starkad pressed his brow to Khinada's, panting with the Khajiit in the afterglow. The large Nord gave the Khajiit one more kiss, nibbling on her lower lip before straightening his back and withdrawing, standing on shaking legs to right the overturned tub. Taking two towels from an ornate rack in the corner of the bath house, Starkad helped his lover up to her feet, wrapping the towel around her to dab her fur dry as she repaid the favor, especially over the marks she put into his flesh. There was no need for words between them, not now. Their bodies shared the same sweet soreness borne only from the toil of lovemaking and the red marks left by the other's hands and teeth. Starkad chuckled with the slightest of smiles as he pressed his lips to Khinadas brow, hand cradling her hip. It was a long and sweet kiss, and when it ended the two went to get dressed. Peering at the long shadows cast across the ground by the moons, their coupling had lasted some time into the wee hours of the morning. Starkad could only laugh, his face, chest, and ears flushed red and heated.

[SikstaSlathalin]

*Arch-Curate*

With her order delivered and the night done, the Arch-Curate of one of three remaining havens of Snow Elves in all of Tamriel settled down to her personal shrine to Aur-El and began praying to the God of Elven creation for the safety of Winterblade's crew and their quick return with the Tome of Bluestone Barrow. They would need all the help they could get before tomorrow was done.


*Winterblade*

The Captain's walk through the Commons and the Bastion proper was one filled in thought. He had much to think about and plan for. The night rolled on and the Bastion pretty much shut down after Evening Prayer. Only a few icy taverns were still open he even saw Graesin into one and find himself some women of the night. That surprised the old Nord a bit, he had never heard anything about Snow Elves being promiscuous like that. He was under the impression they were a very religious people against all forms of vice, but as he watched them it became very clear he was wrong. That made sense really, most of what they know about Snow Elves comes from battles with the ancient Nords. Chuckling ever so much Allester reached into the pocket of his heavy coat and pulled out a medium sized dragonbone pipe with his family's crest carved on the bowl. High King Ulfric had given him after the Rebellion to commemorate the Captain's victories and pushed a pinch and a half of smoking leaf into the bowl and lit it with a match from his pocket. Pulling out his notebook the Captain puffed away on his pipe writing down everything he had seen and heard today. Only glancing up every now and then to find if he was lost the man marched through the silent streets of the massive underground complex until he found himself near their quarters and heard the sounds of some frantic love making in on of the bath areas. He knew who it was and debated if he wanted it barge and tell them to be quiet but decided against it. Nothing killed the mood like your boss kicking the door down and telling you to stop.

No he would let Stark and Khinada go for now, a good coupling is a fantastic stress reliever especially just before you go off into battle. Hearing them made a frown form around his pipe though, he tried not to think about it most of the time, making history meant missing things though. He was only a day from Solitude but he was even farther from Windhelm where his family was waiting for him. His wife and two daughters, Sonja was just going on leave from the Bard's Collage just as Storm Breaker was leaving port. She would help her mother and sister keep Grey Stone Manor from falling down. He made his past the Wash Rooms and walked into the brisk cold of Roscrea, the night was clear and the sky looked as massive as it did on the flat plains of Eastmarch. Not even a cloud remained to tell what brought the crew of the Storm Breaker to the island, he marvelled at what the Arch-Curate said about conjuring the storm and looking at the sky made him trust her words far more than before. It seems everything he has read about the magical prowess of these Mer was true, they would make very powerful allies.

He dotted the last i and cross the last t before placing his notebook back into his pocket and relighting his pipe. After taking a few puffs he realized he wasn't the only one standing outside of the Bastion. Turning his head he saw the tall powerful form of Knight-Paladin Volare puffing away on a pipe of his own. This one was made of frosted glass decorated with golden etchings of Snow Elf lore he assumed. Pulling the pipe from his mouth the Elf spoke to the Captain.
"The big Nord and Khajiit in your crew are very loud Lord Captain. If I didn't use the Detect Life spell to see the two of them...doing what they are doing I would've sworn someone was being murdered by a Werewolf." The old Elf shook his head tapping his pipe ash out on the corner of his boot. Allester smiled softly pulling the pipe from his own mouth before speaking.
"Ay, I apologize for that Knight-Paladin. I had a feeling they would knock boots but thought they'd at least be quiet about it." Volare shook his head feeling about his pockets for his pipe leaf pouch, realizing he was actually out of his preferred brand known as Bristlepuff in the common tongue for the prickly feeling anyone who smokes it gets in their mouth. With a slight smile Allester offered the Mer some of his home grown brand named Blar Bal(Black Fire) because of the distinct color the initial flames make when lighting.

Accepting the offered pouch graciously Volare relit his pipe and puffed away smiling at the strong woody taste.
"It is ok Captain Winterblade, we both know what it was like being young once. And you can just call me Volare, I'm off duty right now." He said staring out as a quick wind blew through the boughs of the ancient pine trees around them.
"Then you can just call me Allester, how do you like the pipe weed?"
"It is a very strong flavor, I will have to see if I can convince you give me your recipe." The Elf said laughing softly pushing out smoke like a Dragon. The Nord responded with a laugh of his own moving off the steps heading towards his ship.
"Well join me in a walk back to the ship to gather my armor and I might just do that." With a slight nod the leader of the Snow Elf army joined the Captain of the invading mainlanders in a slow walk to the beach where they first met. They walked in silence for a few minutes puffing away on their pipes enjoying the night air, but Allester's mind was bursting with questions. He hadn't been alone long enough with the Arch-Curate to ask his fill so he was going to take this chance before it passed him by.
"So Volare do you mind if I ask you some questions? My King asked for as full a report on the other lands as I can get. I have recorded much now but a first hand witness will do wonders for my report." The Snow Elf mulled over this for a few seconds, he could tell the Nord everything he wished to know. He was second only to Millira's herself when it comes to the history of their people and this island since they fled here many centuries ago and getting their unbiased story known could help them greatly. He could also turn the Captain's request down and possibly ward off some future attack by this High King who thinks the Snow Elves could be a threat again and decide to eliminate the ancient foe of the Nords once again and for all time. It was a dangerous prospect one with unknown implications both good and bad, with a decision made he nodded to the old Sailor.
"Very well Allester, I will answer what I can."

With a smile Allester asked the first and most obvious question at the forefront of his mind.
"How have you all survived this long without being seen? I mean surely bandits, explorers, and other sea faring vessels have been here since ancient times."

The Knight-Paladin nodded shifting the pipe to the other side of his mouth so he could talk.
"Indeed there have been, but we adapted quickly. We remain hidden unless we perceive a threat by any party landing here. Those that get to close to our outposts of the Bastion are quickly scared off by our magic or straight out killed if they prove too hard to scare. It's not a perfectly friendly way to go about it but we are too few to fend off a full-scale attack if diplomacy fails. You and your crew are the only exception to that rule we've allowed."
The Captain nodded pulling out his notebook again jotting this down, speaking out of the side of his mouth he continued his questions. "And we are eternally grateful to you for that. How have you kept well fed and healthy on this island? If I remember my geography correctly Roscrea is mostly rock, all that really grows here are pine trees but I haven't seen any type of logging facilities in the Bastion. Granted I haven't walked the whole of your home yet."

"Your memory serves you well my friend. Yes, Roscrea is very inhospitable to any group of people wishing to settle here. We didn't have much of a choice in the matter but like I said before he adapted quickly. The Bastion wasn't actually built by us, it was already an outpost of the Snow Elves we just expanded upon it. Gutting the Imperial settlements here after they were abandoned we repaired the city and settled ourselves in. We salvage things off the beaches and scavenge many others things off the visitors that find themselves here."
Making note of this Allester continued on.
"Ingenious, but that can't be all of it. You can only rely so much on fate, the rest you need to go out and take."
Volare chuckled softly puffing some more on the pipe.
"You are a clever man Allester, before I tell you though I ask you not pursue further on this line of questioning. We are not fully ready to return to the world and if those helping us find out I told you they may stop doing business with us."
Shocked at this implication Allester nodded solemnly.
"Very well I give you my word I will not dig deep to where I am not welcome."
Knowing the unbending honor of Nords especially warriors Volare took a breath before answering.
"Yes even as well adapted as we Snow Elves are we would die out within a generation or two having to solely rely on scavenging our shores to survive. We have been returning to Skyrim ever since Ysgramor passed to the next life, moving with the utmost secrecy we met with certain individuals that agreed to keep us supplied if we help defend their ships from pirates and foul weather. That is how we got so skilled at manipulating weather and why many of us know the Common Tongue." Allester nodded once more writing it all down.
"We know very little about your people back in Skyrim, and most of that is from the battles you engaged in with the Atmorans could you tell me your side of history?"
"That will be a very long story Allester." Volare said laughing softly.
"It's a long walk my friend." The old Nord responded pointing the end of his charcoal stick through the thick woodland.
Volare gave another laugh and began telling the full history of the Snow Elves as Allester wrote it all down.

[Imperial1917]

A bitter wind blew and yet another flurry of snow pressed against Isus' face as he made a fast-fading trail out through the icy landscape. The clothe between his armor and his skin seemed to hardly be there at all. The lights of the Storm Breaker had all but dissipated behind him. The only sound now was the howling of the wind and the storm of his own thoughts.

He strode deeper into the whiteout, thinking on what had passed. For better or worse, he was locked into his path. The crew had, unsurprisingly, fell into line in short order after the Captain's proposal was made. The fool had insisted that they not destroy any artifacts they found on their coming expedition. Isus doubted that the man had ever seen the depravities that could be witnessed upon them with such reasoning. He clearly was all but unaware of the fact that there were things fouler than Mer in the deep places of the world.

Still, Isus' belief that he would be the death of this expedition was thrown into doubt in short order. After the Captain had dismissed them, the crew had gone their separate ways. Or at least, most of them had. The Nord and Khajiit made it abundantly clear to the entirety of Tamriel that they had not. The Dunmer had gone off in a peculiar direction and Isus had seen his life force meet with another for quite some time. Giving his report to his depraved brethren, no doubt. By those measures, one might even say that the other Mer's indulgence in wenches was acceptable.

For the good Captain himself, it was off to smoke and be deluded some more by the locals.

Isus had little of it. He had determined to return to the ship to retrieve his wargear. The Captain had implied that what they needed from the ships would be brought for them, but Isus was having no such foolery. His chest was secured and it would be less than satisfying to learn that someone could open it. It would be even less satisfying to go into the Barrow without his equipment. The way back was easy. The Mer had forgotten to rob them of their sense of direction when leading them from the ship.

Now he stopped. His armor sighed softly. He had been pleased to see no tampering with his sea chest and, after removing his needed items, had closed, locked, and re-enchanted the chest. Now he stood atop a snow-covered hill, far from both the city and the ship. Nearby, the dark confines of one of this island's many forests beckoned. He ignored it for the moment. That was not why he was here.

Drawing his sword, he began to chant. The wind drowned out the words, but the sound was clear and pleasing to the Gods. He began tracing the snow with the tip of the blade. All about him, where the steel touched, no snow stayed. The growing blizzard shrieked and threatened, but he did not stop. In short order, yet gracefully, he stopped and observed his work, pleased. Striding into the center of his creation, he drove the blade into the icy earth, more than words and air and moisture spilling from his lips.

The figure that he had wrought upon the earth began to glow dimly, but gave off no heat. Then, as he knelt in the gathering snow, it began to pulse and hum. Still no heat came. With a burst of light shrouded in the distances by the icy drifts, it faded. The ice invaded the runes as the light seeped deeper into the earth and vanished.

Isus stood, drawing his blade from the earth. He was not pleased. He never was. But it would have to do. There was little else he could do.

Then something caught his eye.

In the darkness of the woods, something twinkled.

Wary, but sensing a great need, Isus walked towards it.

[Jacogos]

Daimus reflected on his conversation with Snowfall all the way back to the ship, musing to himself mentally about the possibilities of her companionship throughout this journey. Most of the time, his thoughts got distracted simply thinking about her rather than about the more important points, such as how the Captain would react to taking a Snow Elf along with them to other countries that were akin to the rest of the world: completely unaware that the Falmer were still alive outside of their forsaken brethren in the Dwemer ruins.

Shaking his flushed head as he broke himself free of one of his more... colorful tangents about his new companion, Daimus found himself most of the way to the ship by then. The snow swirling around him causing the Dark Elf to draw his coat a little closer around him. He was not used to this cold... He lived on Solstheim, where it was basically the climate of Morrowind, at least on Raven Rock.

Daimus found his armor and other necessary supplies on his own time, slipping it all into a backpack that he would dress out of in the morning. He made sure to include his small whetstone just in case; useful as they were, he had known other people that simply didn't carry one with them.

During that time, it appeared that the Imperial had been there and gone, leaving Daimus quite concerned about the time it had taken as well as his own attention to detail in the fact that he had hardly heard the man. He knew this, however, because Isus was standing outside in the flurry with his armor on when Daimus exited the ship again, the Dunmer having not seen him when he was boarding the ship nor on the way there.

Daimus made to ignore the man for the most part, mostly because he was doing some sort of ritual that he likely didn't want to be interrupted, but Daimus was just short of coming alongside the man about fifteen feet to his right when the Imperial began to make his way towards the forest. Stopping to consider the man's angle, Daimus shook his head and followed behind him, wary to keep his hand on his sword's hilt.

[SikstaSlathalin]

*Winterblade*

Allester's notebook filled up fast between the gates of the Bastion and the deck of his ship. There was so much no one, not even the best scholars in Tamriel knew about the ancient Snow Elves. With each letter he wrote Winterblade knew this crew was going to flip Acedemia on it's ear when the findings were published. He may have to buy more notebooks when they made port in Farrun, for now though he would have to make due with the ones he brought with him. Volare was just finishing up his narration when they reached the Storm Breaker. The Snow Elves had put shrouds over the holes in the ship to keep the snow out and everything was perfectly in place from where they left it before. It looked like Isus's paranoia was wrong once more, what a surprise. Climbing aboard the ship the two men made their way to the Captain's Cabin, Allester unlocked the door and went inside to retrieve his armor, shield, and long sword. He also grabbed some tinder bundles and a few provisions packing them all into his haversack, he wasn't sure how long they would be in those ruins so it would be best to prepare for anything he could.

He put the armor on and slung the shield across his back and hung his the bag over one shoulder before rejoining the Knight-Paladin on deck. After relocking his cabin door Allester nodded to Volare.
"I'll send the sailors out later to get the Mercs' gear later." Volare nodded and together with Allester they climbed off the ship and began walking back to the Bastion.

[Imperial1917]

Isus pushed on through the swirling onslaught of the snow. Ahead, the twinkling light became clearer and brighter, in spite of the snow drifts. He then came to a halt.

Attached to a tree trunk was a lantern emitting the blue-white light he had been following. It was clearly not Mer. It held not the smooth curves of their kind, but the angular precision of Men. Perhaps he was not so alone on this ice drift. Drawing closer, his sword ready and his senses weary, Isus saw that the lantern was in fact not bolted to the tree trunk, but laid out on a branch.

Reaching the base of the tree, he looked around. The light was suspended directly above a small hole in the trunk. Taking down the lantern, he shined it into the small hole. There, deep within, lay a small scroll. Reaching in warily, he retrieve it, putting down the lantern on the ground in the process. He unfurled the scroll.

It was blank. Well, that is not accurate. Isus could see the marks left behind by faded ink in the damp scroll. Whatever was written on it had long since been destroyed by the weather. He wondered whether that was due to inexperience on the part of the writer or on purpose, as a sort of guard against intruders. The only thing on the scroll that was identifiable was the slight smear of an Imperial seal in wax at the bottom. There was nothing more here. Carefully he furled it back up and put in his armor. He turned to go.

But then something stopped him. The light of the lantern still glowed dimly at his feet. Turning back to the tree trunk, he paused. Then he reached back in. This time he felt something there that had not been there the first time. Wrapping his hand around it, he drew it out, palm down. He turned his hand up and looked at what was there.

It was an amulet. It was not Mer, to be sure. The angles were off and the making was far too crude. Nevertheless, someone had carved an glyph on the side that was Mer in origin. Weighing it in his hand, Isus could tell that there were enchantments on it. It suddenly occurred to him how dark it was. The lantern had ceased its vigil.

Now certain that there was nothing more to be gained here, Isus pocketed the amulet and started the long trek back to the Mer city, pondering what he had gained.

[SikstaSlathalin]

*The Night before*

With his gear retrieved, Allester and Volare returned to the Bastion. Chatting as old war vets tend to do when they have nothing else to do. They compared scars, joked about downtime between battles and the hi-jinks they witnessed when the younger men got a little too rowdy. Despite being from races that were the deepest rivals for most of history, Allester and Volare got along quite well. A warrior's bond it could be called much like what he has with Stark just a bit more gray both of them being old warhorses and all.

They reached the gates of the Bastion with ease and bid each other good night.
After reading over his notes again the old Captain made his way back to their quarters and he got ahold of the Sailors and asked some of them to retrieve the chests of the Mercs that didn't get their gear. He knew they would feel like servants if he forced them so he only took volunteers and offered them five septims each for the inconvenience. It was Lars, Ana, Pyke, and Swims, he saw Arorn and Jornheim filter out to get their gear when he and Volare were walking back and he knew Miri would've been one of the first out to get her gear so by the Captain's reckoning it was just Stark, Khinada, and Sovia who would need their gear retrieved. It would be a quick trip and well worth the gold. After he sent the Sailors out to get the gear the Captain checked both the men and women's quarters to check things and see who was wear. Once everything was in order he asked around after his missing Crew. They weren't all in the quarters but they were all accounted for so he went to rest up for the raid on Bluestone Barrow.

*Winterblade at Dawn*

Waking slowly but clearly the old Nord Captain awoke and rose groaning lightly at having slept on a harder bed then he should have. Dressing warmly he looked at he sleep forms of the mercs finding all but Graesin asleep. He got ahold of on the Nighwatch Man and requested he track down the Bosmer at the little house of night he was at the last time the Captain knew, he also sent the man out to track down the Volare and have him make ready the Snow Elves that would accompany his crew into the Barrow. With that done he awoke Miri and had her stir all the females going on this quest. The woman promptly saluted and woke up Sovia and Khinada ordering them to get dressed and be ready to leave soon, Allester did the same thing with the men hitting the switch on the wall flooding the room with light.
"Up and at'em gentlemen glory waits for no man!" While the mercs would wake up the Sailors knowing they weren't going on this quest just covered their heads with their blankets and went back to sleep. Their day didn't start until after breakfast.


*Volare at dawn*

The Knight-Paladin woke up with a slight snort when the Nightwatch Man woke him up to assemble the Mer joining Captain Winterblade and his crew to the Barrow. The War Leader knew already who he would grab. The Arch-Curate had sent him a message saying Snowfall, Arayna, and Varic would be joining the crew along with whatever soldiers Volare thought would be best to ensure everyone makes it to the Barrow and gets back to Bastion as quickly and as safely as possible. Dressing quickly he and two others wen out into the slumbering Bastion to assemble the needed bodies.

[Imperial1917]

Isus stood at the main gates of the Bastion, waiting. He had returned to the city in the wee hours of the morning, which left him only time to meditate. Perhaps it was better that way. The he had sensed the coming of the Mer who had brought him the Captain's notice to assemble at the main gates before she had entered the quarters given to him for the night. Still in full battle dress, there was not much to do besides pray and eat before getting to the gates. That some of the crew seemed stirred already suggested that the food the night before was not poisoned. Still, he took his fill alone, where he could murmur some prayers to the Nine for protection before eating. One might call it pointless though, as he had already made his devotions to them earlier that day, asking for general protection on this next assignment. Still, it could not hurt to be more particular in his requests.

[StormyNyte]

Khinada groaned into her pillow as Miri's militariaristic tone assaulted her hears. Rousing slowly, she cupped her head in her hands and groaned again. She never was one to realize that her consumption limits where being pushed until it was too late. As a matter of fact, she wasn't entirely sure exactly how she had gotten back to her quarters. The last thing she remembered through the haze was stepping out into the night air with Starkad before the wash of alcohol and exertion-induced exhaustion overtook her.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she ignored the disapproving looks from the other two women and stood. The quickness of the motion made her head swim and her thighs and back ache. By the feel of her soreness, her body must've been sporting some very telling marks and bruises. Khinada could tell that this was going to be an interesting venture, indeed. Finding the belongings that were originally on the ship now delivered, she got dressed and strapped on her leather armor and weapons, including Starkad's axe.

Once dressed, she returned to her bedside where she had originally deposited her traveling pack and shouldered it, grimmacing when the weight of it landed on her back. With one last check that she had everything needed, she gingerly made her way out the door. Her final destination was the main gate where she spied Isus already waiting, but not before she hunted down a heel of bread and a mug of the elven ale that hindered her last night in hopes of chasing away the pounding in her head. Giving the man the slightest of nods, she murmured her greetings and leaning against the gate to wait for the others. "A fine morning to test our fates, yes..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~

Arayna was busy finalizing her preparations for the journey ahead. There was no telling what they would run into in that ancient place, nor how long they would have to be there. With a scowl, she looked over her provisions, making certain she would have everything she needed. She had even made sure to acquire several extra bottles of magicka restoration and fortification potions. Closing her eyes, she mentally recited every spell she could possibly have need of before nodding resolutely. She was ready. Packing away all her needed provisions, she shouldered her satchel and took up her staff before making her way outside.

The night before, she had even made an offering to both the daedric princes Hermaeus Mora, for further insight into the arcane arts and for the understanding of potential knowledge yet to be unearthed, and Meridia, for protection and power against the undead that may still be stirring beneath the earth. It seemed odd for her to be asking for any kind of assistance from Meridia, considering the fact that she has raised more than her fair share of corpses in her day, but seeing as she hadn't called upon one to rise in quite some time she figured it would be safe to at least try.

The hour was still quite early, and it was still quiet. With a mischievous grin, the mage held out her hand and murmured quietly, putting all her concentration into her conjuring. When her murmuring died off, a dark swirling void appeared in the snow beside her. Moments later, a Flame Thrall emerged and the void closed beneath it. Arayna smiled in satisfaction, but the cost of her conjuration was taxing. She could feel her magicka was nearly depleated, but it would likely recover by the time she made it to the main gates. It was a spell she had practiced for quite some time, but not one she would call upon once inside the barrows unless her need was dire. Bidding her thrall to follow, she began to make her way toward the gate, happening across Valore in the process. She hailed him with a raised hand, the thrall close on her heels, "Ever ready as always, I see. Off to collect the others, Valore?"

[Jacogos]

It wasn't very long before Daimus, too, was at the gates of the Bastion. He had managed to get maybe an hour's nap in before the Captain called them to rise, making the Dunmer regret having put off going to the ship and then following the Imperial in the snowstorm. Donning his Chitin Armor and belting on his blade and crossbow, Daimus was soon picking up a bite to eat and chewing on it as he headed towards the meeting point.

Once there, he took a moment to ponder on what had occurred last night, his eyes lingering on Isus for a brief moment in suspicion as he thought about what he had seen. Or rather, what he hadn't seen. The island's almost consistent snowstorm had made seeing what Isus had done with the tree nigh impossible. All Daimus knew was that he had left with something that he had gotten from said tree, something small.

It bothered the Dark Elf that he didn't know, but it also bothered him that the Imperial didn't really seemed all that bothered or excited about it. Either the entire thing was inconsequential, or the Imperial was really good at hiding his feelings. Daimus was more inclined to believe the latter, but hoped it was the former. Putting the entire thing from his thoughts, Daimus instead let himself look to the street for Snowfall's eventual appearance, smiling to himself unconsciously as he did so.

[Imperial1917]

Isus had been watching the approach to the main gates and checking the fortifications when the Khajiit had approached. They were stout, if not impressive. That alone was bothersome. The walls were sturdy enough, but rather thin for such a complex. They probably relied on dark blessings from their heathen gods to protect them. There was plenty of space for archers, but a lack of footspace. Such suggested that they were poorly prepared for a siege assault. No arrow slits either. He wasn't surprised by that though. They probably shared their skill in archery with their woodland cousins. There was no need for arrow slits. Still, it was foolish. But then, they were Mer. Who knew what they thought? It was entirely possible that the defenses were thrown in as an afterthought, assuming that anything found them and could brave the cold to get so close.

His observations were cut short by the approach of the Khajiit, which annoyed him, but he was careful not to show it. Of late, he could tell that his fellows and the Mer were discerning much more than was humanly possible for what he actually did. His intuition told him that some heathen gods, some puppeteers of these puppets, were sending them information that they could not possibly know otherwise. He would have to be cautious. The dark gods were fickle and notoriously crafty, but not infallible.

He did not return her greeting, but did listen to her words and responded: "More likely than not, we try the patience of the Gods with our... preoccupations."

[Aureyon]

Snowfall had been awake nearly all night, and had managed to slip into the realm of dreams shortly before dawn. As soon as the light of the warmed her skin she awoke and began preparing for her quest into the barrow. She had not yet been in the barrow though she had yearned for many a year to do so. The barrow was reported to be dangerous as none of the parties sent out to recover the artifact within the tomb had ever returned. She herself wasn't worried of her safety only that there would be casualties within the tomb, and she would do her best to ensure that Daimus was not one of them.

She found herself rekindling the memories of the previous night and the time she and Daimus shared together under the stars. It was a night that she would remember for the longest time, and one that would remain close to her heart until the end of her days; yawning she left the bed and stretched before donning her Falmer armor and tightening it to where it gave her just enough room for mobility, but offered maximum protection. She then proceeded to brush the nights wear out of her hair and braided it tightly leaving it to rest on her right shoulder. She then placed the white leather band around her head that ensured her hair would stay in place and left her room in her fathers estate.

She turned down the street and made her way towards the main gate with a slight beat in her step as the eagerness to see Daimus, again, filled her body with an alertness that washed away the tiredness. She had always been used to the wee hours of sleep, but last night seemed to have taken quite a lot from her, nevertheless her skill in battle and effectiveness to this group would not be marred by her lack of rest.

As she neared the main gate her eyes found Daimus and a smile broke upon her face. She quickened her steps and stopped within an arms reach of him and leaned in kissing him on the cheek before turning to the members of the company around her and saying,

"It is an honor to work with you all", her eyes falling on Isus quizzically at his statement.

[Rayne7]

Graesin's eyes snapped open as he heard armored feet in the hall, the barest whisper of a sword moving in it's sheath. With the silence and stealth only someone who'd spent their life on the run knew, he was out of bed and had pants on within seconds, dagger held behind his back as he moved to the side of the door. When a knock came, he hesitated a moment before answering.

"Who's there?" he asked, hand shifting on the handle of his blade.

"I'm a Watchman. Your Captain has asked that you meet him at the gate."

Grae's eyes narrowed. It could be a trap, but after surviving the night it seemed unlikely. Still, caution had saved him in the past from traps he hadn't foreseen. Getting dressed and armored quickly, he made sure his blades were easily accessible before grabbing his bow. For a long moment he looked at the weapon; one that his kind were famous for using, their skill with it making them the best archers in all of Tamriel. It was a weapon he'd scavenged off the body of a hunter, the style definitely not elven, but suitable for his purposes. Now though, surrounded by others similar to him, he wanted something closer to his heritage.

Snapping out of his reverie, he decided to seek out the smithy he’d seen on the way in to inquire about a trade of some sort; if he couldn’t have a bow made by his own, then he would reach out to the cousins of his kind. He sheathed the bow and lifted the cowl of his cloak over his head as he left the brothel with nary a thought to the elven women he’d slept with the night before.

He slipped into the streets with barely a glance in his direction, the cowl low over his face raised little suspicion except by the guards, but with no reason to stop him they did nothing more than keep an eye on him. The Snow Elves were certain to know he was one of the outsiders, but the cloak spoke of his need not to converse, and so they went about their business as they started their assorted crafts, be it baking, sewing, butchering, or setting up stalls.

It wasn’t long before he heard the sound of a smith hard at work, likely fulfilling an order than needed done in a timely manner. Entering the smithy, Graesin saw that his deduction was correct; the smith was placing the last of an order of daggers into a cloth full of them before bundling them up and setting them behind a counter, then turned to face this latest customer.

“Something I could do you for, outsider? A blade, perhaps?” the smith said, motioning to some elven swords on the wall behind him.

Grae’s hand reached over his shoulder and withdrew the Nordic bow he’d sheathed and placed it onto the counter. “Tell me, how much would you give me for this bow?”

The smith studied the bow, brow furrowing as he lifted it and inspected its frame and heft, pulling on the string to test its flexibility before setting it onto the table. “Two hundred sovereigns. It’d be a hard sell, except to one of the youngsters seeking a foreign piece.”

“And if I wanted to trade?” Graesin lowered his hood, looking the smith in the eye. “I seek a bow closer to my own kind.”

The smith looked Graesin over, observing the Bosmer’s lean muscular stature and the cold calculating look in his eye. It was obvious the wood elf was true to his kin; a rogue by blood. But the eyes were something else, something harder. This was someone who killed frequently and with little if any remorse. “I think I have just the thing for you.” he said after some thought, disappearing for a moment into the back before returning with a bow wrapped in a cloth, setting it onto the table before unfolding it to reveal a black Elven bow.

“It’s name is Whisper. Nobody here will touch it; some believe it to be cursed, and others won’t take it because it was owned by someone who is now dead.” The smith’s eyes found Graesin’s. “That someone was my son. He died during a pirate raid, and this is all I have left of him.”

Graesin took the bow into his hands, admiring the way it seemed to absorb all light, not reflecting even in the slightest. It was as though it was made for him, the right weight and balance that if an enemy got close he could use it as a makeshift staff if need be. When he pulled the string back it forced him to use his back muscles. It was perfection in his hands. “Why give it to me?”

The smith watched the way the stranger held his bow. “Because that bow is death; and that is your trade.”

Graesin sheathed the bow and turned to walk away, then turned back around and set down a small pouch of gold. “It’s worth is more than I can give; when I return I’ll give you the full worth.”

Minutes later he arrived at the gate, hood back over his face as he studied the others; the dark elf love-struck with the snow elf, the imperial as disagreeable as ever, the Khajit sore but seemingly in good spirits. Grunting to himself, he ignored them all as he leaned against the wall as they awaited the rest of their crew.

[StormWolf]

At the call to wake, Starkad's eyelids dragged themselves open sluggishly as if weighed by lead. The whites of his eyes were streaked with vibrant red veins and surrounded by dark circles as he rose. It was obvious he did not get a long nights rest that was expected before such a dangerous mission, but it a decision he made and he would make the same choice again. Pushing himself up from the mattress, the dried blood on the linens peeled from Starkad's pale skin as he made his way to his chest to prepare for the adventure they had ahead. Throwing back the lid, Starkad procured his armor and some clean clothes, but more importantly, Starkad procured a clear crystal bottle of maple-brown brandy.

Uncorking his breakfast, Starkad took a few hearty swigs of the brandy to wash away the aches and cold that came with the morning before filling up a wineskin with the same amber liquor, hooking it onto his belt after pulling on his trousers. Once clothed, Starkad strapped the various plates of banded iron armor onto his body and sheathed his greatsword across his back. Before taking up his helmet, Starkad took another swig of the brandy, swishing it around his mouth, then corking the bottle and placing it back into his sea chest. Clearing his throat, Starkad places his horned iron helmet on his head and followed his fellow crew-mates and mercenaries to the rendezvous point at the city gates with the biggest of grins. Despite the armor pinching and grinding against his badges of honor from the prior night, with every step sending small shocks of pain across his skin, his eyes were bright and victorious and his smile was rather wolfish. Seeing the rest of his fellows gathered at the city gates, Starkad walked up beside Khinada and gave her a gentle nudge, handing her the wineskin of brandy,

"It'll help with the... aches." he chuckled, smiling at her knowingly.

[enaz]

Varic awoke to a loud banging on his door, and was shocked when he looked outside to see the sun high into the sky. "What in Oblivion?!" He yelled as he rose and rushed to the door. He had been planning on waking at first light to prepare everything he would need but he had overslept. Opening the door he'd find a fellow snow elf awaiting him. "Sir everyones heading for the Barrows. Its time for you to go. I've been looking all over for you."

"I am quite aware of that. Thanks for the help." Varic said putting a few gold coins in the young elfs hand and sending him on his way. Setting to work he went about collecting his staff and his other equipment. "Can't believe I'm so late." Varic said as he rushed out of his home and making sure it was locked. In his mouth hung a loaf of bread that he was chewing on while running. As he neared the barrow and saw the others he waved and signaled that he would be accompanying them. Coming to a stop next to snowfall Varic simply mumbled hellow through a mouth full of bread.

[SikstaSlathalin]

*Volare*

The Knight-Paladin had just gone to check on Snowfall's progress to wakefulness, only to find she had barely slept and was already up and going by the time he got there. He simply poked his head in and bid her good morning and where the crew was to meet and left her to finishing preparation. As he was making his own way to the gates he ran in to the Mad Mage herself on her way to same place.

At first he was mildly apprehensive and confused as to why the Arch-Curate would let Arayna go on this most important quest. No one who wasn't willing to kill her on sight would be able to stop her should she choose to snap, sure the Templar would but he was just one man and unless he managed to get the drop on her it would take more than just him to put her down. As much as he questioned it though there was nothing he could do, Arch-Curate Millira was the chosen of Auri-El and as such he would ultimately have faith in her choice because it was the choice of his God. He nodded to her hail and studied the Flame Thrall as she hovered behind her master the heat she was giving off made him wince a little. Snow Elves were not big fans of heat.
"Actually just coming from waking your fellow Mer, that are bound to accompany Captain Winterblade into the Barrow. I am just on my way to lead the escorts, feel free to walk with me, Lady Arayna." He said bowing slightly before walking towards the gates.
"So I see you're bringing a friend, she a permanent thrall?"


*Winterblade*

The old warrior was dressed and ready before most of the other men, most of his time was spent in organizing the notebooks he had already filled and deciding which ones to bring. Once that was hammered out he slung on his pack and joined the rest of his crew a the gates of the Bastion. Some looked exhausted, some looked excited, but all looked as ready as they could to go delving into the ancient Barrow of a infamous High Sea Raider.

Allester was quite curious why this man was given a Barrow, criminals like him don't usually get honoured, but maybe his crew or the black city he had founded on this island did it to honor their iron-fisted King. Sea Lord Bluestone was reputed to be very wealthy so the mercs would most likely find plenty to fill their sea chest with, especially if this place had remained sealed ever since Bluestone's day. With Varic's rather quick arrival everyone soon found their way to the gates and with a nod to Volare the group began moving through the cold but clear morning to the Barrow where they would make history.

It took around an hour to reach the doors of the Barrow. It was an impressive structure even by Barrow standards and it was amazingly well preserved.
Across the keystone were the words in ancient Nordic, as he figured he knew some of the words but the whole of the message was lost on him.
"Just as I thought, Stark my lad. Any idea what it says?"

[Imperial1917]

Isus' face was covered by the slanted shadows cast by the main gate by the time the Captain arrived, obscuring them from sight. It was just as well too. Looking around at the gathering party, Isus was... It was never to be said that Templar lived with regrets, but Isus was nonetheless less than enthused by the current company. Isus had kept much better in the past and that was as much as he would say to anyone who asked.

Here, the Bosmer, looking as vague as ever. He had apparently seen fit to change his twig for a branch, for all the good it would do him underground. There, the Khajiit, who appeared to be in less than fine condition from the previous night's excursions. Not that Isus was concerned beyond the possible impact on how much of a meat shield she would provide him in the coming battles.

The Dunmer was as honorless as ever from what Isus could tell, but he could have hardly expected the mer to have washed his people's hands clean so quickly. Some muck just doesn't come out. Quite possibly the only interesting thing about him this morning was the weariness with which he looked at Isus. It probably didn't matter. Knowing what was running through his mind could not possibly bring as much pleasure as running him through with a blade. The traitorous filth. In more ways than one now.

The Nord arrived some time later, rumbling something to the Khajiit. Had not half of Tamriel already known what he was talking about, it might have been amusing.

There were also the local rabble that the Captain seemed to have rounded up. Here, the young one who had made a fool of herself during introductions. She was both predictable and unpredictable, making her all the more dangerous. There, a grizzled soldier of some kind. Or what passed for a soldier around here. He was garbed in what Isus supposed was the armor of some sort of militant priesthood. He would need watching. The other was more trouble on the horizon. He seemed less a warrior and more a fool, which was all the more dangerous. Many an expedition had gone awry to fools. It was the last that was the most troubling though. She was evidently some sort of conjurer and had seen fit to bring with her a flame thrall. Isus had a foreboding feeling seeing this. Surprisingly, it was more for the thrall than the Mer. For the Mer, there was just loathing.

And finally the Captain, ever the fool. Nothing more need be said about that.

Isus ignored the young Mer's greetings, said nothing to clarify his own words, and noted the Captain's absolute lack of introductions for the people that would supposedly be watching Isus' back. One would have at least hoped that he would let them know the possessors of the daggers before they went in.

And away they were. If nothing else, at least Isus would be able to engrave on his gravestone that he was prompt in the little things.

The going was smooth for such wintry conditions. The storm of the previous night that Isus had battled his way through had abated, though the wind and chill remained. Isus brought up the rear of the formation, keeping an eye on the flame thrall the Mer witch had conjured. He had had a long, sordid history with Daedra and knew their temperament, sometimes even better than the people who conjured them. This one was not happy. It was no wonder though. Slogging through the cold air and fresh snow for it was probably like applying hot brands to the heels of Nords on the march. It might not have been the most intelligent of its kind, but it certainly would know what kind of weather it liked. Either the Mer was incompetent or did not care for the sufferings of its subjects. Isus was minded that it was a similar kind of thought that brought the Nords to rebellion.

An hour later of watching the flame thrall shiver its way through the ice, they finally reached the Barrow. Isus wondered briefly why the Mer did not garrison such a well-preserved structure for military purposes, especially so close to the front gates of their city. He made a mental note that it could be very easily fortified. Having spent the time admiring the architecture - Father Matanus had insisted that he review it in the wake of the dragons' return - Isus had somewhat missed what the Captain had said in the wind. Looking over though, he could see that they were leaning over an old text, squinting at it.

Isus had never been one to spend a great deal of time reading old Nordic texts. He had covered some of the most important ones at Father Matanus' insistence, of course, but he didn't pay quite as much attention to them as to other ancient tongues. There wasn't much to translate, after all. They were very much more heavy on simple, but effective communication methods. Very sturdy doors made of revolving bands of metal and stone, for example.

The Nords, perhaps out of jealousy or simple violent refusal, generally did not hand out lessons on such things from what Isus could tell. As a result, a great deal of it stayed in their hands. What Isus did study was the things they couldn't keep to themselves - the old musings of the Greybeards and the like. Of course, such things were very much useless unless you were going to try to learn the Voice, which Isus had decided not to. Isus was left to rue that he had opted to study the translations closer than the translating, meaning that he could probably only pick out bits and pieces at best.

He recalled then that the Nord had said something about being brought up in the old ways the night before. Isus nursed a moment of professional envy for that. He would get to do all the translating, whatever was needed. It evaporated the moment that he was brought to wonder whether the Nord had also learned to use the Voice. Isus spotted the Nord and watched his wearily. Oh good. Another thing to watch for.

[Rayne7]

When they reached the barrow Graesin looked around the forest surrounding them. He wasn't as worried about being attacked by the Snow elves as he was by the undead. Barrows had a tendency to have a few beings outside that would attack you, whether it be a mage, undead, or some bandits who would hide there in between raids. Whatever the case, this one seemed to be clear of those things, though he was sure the snow hid corpses of others who never made it inside.

He'd used a couple of them to hide from enemies, or even just to rest but he rarely went beyond the entry chamber. Whether it was luck or Nocturnal's watching for him, he didn't know, but he almost never had any problems beyond the few that he killed when he first arrived in those places.

As the others worked on opening the door, he kept an arrow nocked and the bow partially drawn, ensuring that he'd be ready to aim and fire at a moment's notice.

"Don't suppose anyone knows a detect life spell, or something similar?"

[StormyNyte]

Khinada waited at the gate with half closed eyes, reminiscing about the night before and wishing for just a few more hours of rest. She barely seemed to notice the others that we're arriving until Starkad nudged her back into reality. Promptly pushing herself to stand, she gave him a sly grin as she took and drank from the offered wineskin. If not for the wonderful fur covering her face, the blush in her cheeks would've been obvious. Returning the skin, she spoke. "This morning's adventure should prove quite interesting, yes... I trust you will be watching my back once we're inside." There was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes when that was said and they were soon on their way.

While en route, she made note of the snow elves that were to accompany them. The one that walked with Daimus she was somewhat familiar with from their first encounter, that woman didn't seem so bad. The other two though... she wasn't too sure of, especially the woman with the thrall. Regardless of how she felt, however, they were to go on this venture together so she would make the most of it. She would just have to refrain from attempting to pick their pockets, especially those of the conjuror. Once at the barrow, she decided to try to break the ice with their new companions while they waited for the captain to figure out how to open the door. "A fine challenge with much reward, these Nordic tombs, I trust none of you are too fearful of the restless undead?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~

Arayna could barely contain her pleasure over the old warrior's surprise at her appearance and gave a cool chuckle, motioning to her thrall as she floated none too happily behind them. "Yes, Valore, she is... at least until her usefulness to me has ended. I've been working on mastering this particular conjuration spell for quite some time now. I've even mastered the art of conjuring two servants at once, though it proves terribly draining." As they neared the gate, the mage made a point to study everyone from the captain and those of her own race right down to the tired looking Khajiit and Nord, but the one who gained the most of her attention was the Templar. She made no effort to hide her satisfaction over his troubled looks. Her eyes held a look as cold as ice when she grinned at him, but she made no effort to speak.

Once they were off, she paid little mind to her minion's discontent, if the thrall did decide to lash out she would simply dispatch it. She was not one to care for the suffering of such things, their purpose was to serve until they were released or destroyed. Once they were at the entrance to the barrow, she smirked at hearing the Bosmer's question. What mage worth their salt on this island didn't know that spell? Closing her eyes, she began a hushed chant. Raising her hand as it started to glow with a strange purplish foggy aura, she opened her eyes and took a slow look around before cutting off the spell. "Calm your mind, archer, there's nothing around but what could be a few wolves in the distance. Save your worry for once we're inside" She then gave the Khajiit a rather irritated look. "The dead are of little interest to me and are usually easily dealt with."

[Jacogos]

Daimus peered at the barrow with a feeling of unease; here he was, his first and hopefully last time ever entering a Nordic burial hall. He was a blacksmith, not an adventurer, there was no need for him to have ever stepped foot into one of these cursed places. Azura preserve me... he pray silently.

There was a bit of comfort having Snowfall nearby. By comparison to himself, she was far better outfitted for such an expedition, even if she probably had as much experience with a barrow like this as he did. For a moment, Daimus was disheartened that he knew none of the helpful spells from the Illusion School, or even a friendly Healing spell. Pushing those thoughts aside, Daimus quieted his worries. Concern yourself with yourself, Daimus. She can take care of herself.... er, as can the others, he told himself.

With his thoughts settled for the moment, Daimus turned his attention on the other female Snow Elf. He frowned at her reply to the Bosmer, shaking his head in what might've been amusement. "You know, a Detect Life spell wouldn't do much for detecting the Draugr that are supposed to roam the halls of Nordic barrows..." Daimus said with a smirk. "I don't suppose you know the Detect Dead spell, too? But then, if they interest you so little, perhaps you won't mind proceeding first, in case they decide they have an interest in you?"

The Dunmer was far more worried about those threats than any above ground. Something would've already attacked this close to the barrow if anything dangerous was about. And in the open like this, it was a much easier fight... In the confines of a barrow, Daimus hadn't the foggiest how they were supposed to keep from skewering each other. A brief pause in his train of thought brought his eyes over to the Imperial for a moment. ... Now you're just being paranoid, Daimus.

[StormyNyte]

The look Arayna gave the Dunmer was a truly frigid one and there was the barest trace of threat underlying her response. "I assure you, my dear, my knowledge of the arcane arts will not fail to protect me in this venture." The flame thrall by her side seemed to burn a little hotter as if in response to its master's sudden mood shift, but then Arayna gave him a condescending smile, waving him off. "But if you truly need a woman to protect you, I'm sure we can find a safe place for you toward the rear of the party while I take care of the danger. I'm sure Snowfall may even hold your hand for comfort if you need her to." With that said, she laughed and turned away, murmuring something to her conjured servant.

[Imperial1917]

Isus watched the scene before the Barrow from a distance, looking down at the party. The sunlight slanted behind him, making him a blackened silhouette against the brightening sky.

Some distance from where he stood, the Bosmer muttered something about life detection spells. To Isus' displeasure, it was the Dunmer who replied, pointing out the distinction between life and death detection spells. Isus would not have taken the Mer to know the difference. It bore thinking about. In the meantime, the cat and the conjurer began an exchange of jibes with the Dunmer and the Bosmer. Isus sighed inwardly. He could tell that this was going to become wearing quickly.

Of course, more concerning was the response of the flame thrall. Shivering as it had been, Isus was less than easy seeing it flare in accord to its summoner's declaration. The Ebonheart Garrison had not been without its conjurers and Isus knew well that this was not a good sign. Controlling magic was difficult enough. Controlling a magical creature was an exercise that required concentration and control of one's self. This Mer appeared to be lacking in both. It would not bode well for this already ill-fated quest if they took on people of unbecoming talents.

Hmm... unbecoming talents. That reminded Isus of someone...

[Aureyon]

Snowfall strayed close to Daimus, but far enough as to give him room to fight should the need arise to do so. As they neared the barrow, ice rolled across her skin chilling her already cold flesh and sending a shiver down her spine. The barrow echoed of death, and all that have perished within it, even some of her close friends had died within this barrow. Snowfall found her icy eyes falling upon Daimus, she seemed to be checking to ensure that he was still with the group and not taken by the draugr. What was she thinking, he was an experienced fighter, he had been on the voyage that led them to their island, and had braved the storm that the Arch-Curate had created. He will be fine, Snowfall reassured herself.

Her eyes jerked up, flashing in silent anger, as Arayna turned her cruel-witted humor onto Daimus. She wasn't an altogether pleasant mer to keep company with, but she was valuable, and this is what Snowfall had to tell herself to prevent from cutting the witch's head from her shoulders.

"That is enough Arayna. Your condescension is not needed here, if we are to make it from this barrow alive, we will need to work together. You know the stories of this place as well as I, there are dangers here that will require all of us working as one.", Snowfall stated, her voice flat and matching her icy expression. While Snowfall had respect for the witch, she would not tolerate her verbal attacks against the outsiders.

As she turned to look at Daimus, she gave him a look that said 'be safe', and strode ahead of the group. She was making her way towards the doors to the barrow, her people had opened it at one point, and it could be opened again.

[SikstaSlathalin]

As they approached the doors Stark's keen eyes studied the runes closely. It took him a few seconds but he remembered his education in the old ways. He nodded looking at Allester.
"Ay, Captain, it's "From the realm of night and the land of hunt. Only with the blood of the wolf from the hand of a man. Can the door be made open. A daedric enchantment" Allester nodded slowly.
"So we need a Werewolf, wonderful, ideas?" He asked looking around at the group. The others shook their heads. Volare spoke pointing to the mountain at the center of the island.

"The last Werewolf was killed on that mountain 50 years ago, so unless one of your band is such a creature, I fear our quest ends here." The mood dropped amongst the group, but just as they were about to move on the biggest man in the crew stepped forward.
"I am such a creature Captain, I will offer my blood to open the doors." Pulling off his gauntlet Jornheim approached the door and pushed it onto the metal spike, his face was like stone as the rusty bit of steel pierced his hand and blood began dripping into the hand print. In a few seconds a loud bang shook the stones above Jornheim's head. A rock came loose and crashed down from above before anyone could move to help the big man, the rock smashed the side of his head the leather helmet saved him from dying on the spot but blood still dripped out from under his helm. He didn't go down but it did stagger him enough that he stumbled out on his own before sitting heavily on the ground the giant doors rumbled open as he did so.

Moving quickly to his side the Captain and a Healer from Volare's escorts came to his side and gently laid him down.
"Jornheim lad, are you alright?" Allester asked gently removing the helmet.
"Ay, sir, it's not the first time I took a blow to the head. Thank Talos for that helmet." The Snow Elf inspected Jorn's wound and hmmed softly pulling out a Healing Potion making the big Nord drink it.
"Drink this big guy, you'll have to sit out this Barrow though." Jorn tried to sit up but Allester placed a hand on the warrior's chest.
"No, my friend, rest up here there will be much more Barrows and the like before this voyage is over. Going into this place with an injury even a small one is a bad idea." Jorn looked like he was about the throw the Captain off, but with a sigh and a nod he laid back against the hill the barrow was built into and allowed the Healer to work on him.

Winterblade smiled patting the big man's shoulder.
"That's a good lad, get well and we'll see you when we get out." Turning to the others he placed his steel plate helmet on his head but lifted the visor so he could see clearly.
"Ok, everyone grab your gear we'll clear the entrance and set up a base camp. And begin our sweep of the Barrow level by level until we reach the Hall of Stories and hopefully our goal. Keep an eye out for traps and other hazards. Lets move!" He said walking confidently but carefully into the Barrow of Leif Bluestone Infamous Pirate Captain of the Northern Sea. As the Captain entered the Barrow the darkness was nearly overwhelming. Luckily he took it upon himself to learn the Candlelight Alterations spell in his youth. It was one of the few spells he thought to learn, he has nothing against magic he just found it more suited him better to learn the art of the Warrior instead of the Mage. Summoing a small ball of glowing white blue light in his hand he tossed it into the air and the little sprite hovered around his head lighting up the Barrow in a ten foot circle around him. Pulling Firestorm off his back he shouldered it and continued cautiously forward his eyes taking in every inch of the floor for pressure plates, dart traps, spider dens, even a Skeever dropping wouldn't escape the old Warrior's eyes. Antechambers were usually trap free but you never know.

The group fanned out and slowly the antechamber was secured and the large fire pot were lit and a small campsite erected with everyone staking their claim on a bit of rock around the unlit firepit. Allester nodded to the group.
"Ok, everyone settle in. Drop your gear and get ready to move."

[StormWolf]

Very quickly, the Barrow proved to be a still-beating heard of sadism. Upon reading and translating the archaic script and gleaning its meaning, the Nord's heart sank. While the group spoke amongst themselves, the Ice Wolf re-read the stone scratchings again, hoping that he mistranslated due to lack of sleep. No matter how many times he read the foreboding poem, it read the same. Taking a deep breath, Starkad rose from where he had knelt. Ready to speak, Starkad cleared his throat and prepared to make a proposition when Jornheim rose from the ranks, confessing to a sentence that would see his head on a pike in any lawful corner of the world. Furrowing his brow, Starkad closed his mouth, swallowing back his words before they even had a chance to become anything more than a thought.

Stepping aside to let Jornheim through, Starkad resumed his position beside Khinada, folding his thick arms over his chest as he watched the other towering Nord give his blood to the lock. There was a loud chunk, which Starkad assumed was the door's lock, but it was something far more sinister. Before he could snap to action, the stone fell and crashed into Jornheim's head, sending the large Nord down bloody and dazed. Starkad had seen his fair share of head wounds. Helmet or not, it would be a stroke of good fortune if Jornheim could swing a hammer or axe the same way ever again. As impotent as the gods were, Starkad sent a prayer up to whomever was listening. Walking by his kinsman, Starkad clapped the man on the shoulder, giving him a silent nod before heading into the all-consuming darkness of the Barrow.

Inside the damp and cold maw of stone, Starkad felt the hackles on the back of his neck rise as the darkness consumed them, all encompassing until the Lord-Captain illuminated the stony throat, leading from the front as Starkad took up the rear of the formation. The sweeping arc of his blade would be of more use in an ambush without fearing for the heads and limbs of his comrades. The Ice Wolf had stumbled into cursed and damned holes such as these before as a young lad. He remembered being a boy little older than six. His father ended up having to enter the cursed tomb and carry the young Starkad out. Not a fond memory and not one he was fond of sharing. The musty smell of flesh-turned-dust brought back a sequence of memories, that pinch of childhood trauma being only the first and the least horrifying.

With their camp set up around a burning brazier, Starkad set down his pack, using as a cushion against a pillar as he sat with his greatsword laying across his knees. Procuring a whetstone from one of the pockets on his pack, Starkad ensured the edge was just the right level of keen. Too often has he seen the rich and famous who merely meddled in the art of swordsmanship enough to believe the folly that a blade needed to be sharp as a razor. Unbecoming as it was, Starkad took great joy as he saw their proud and confident expressions melt to terror as their blade snapped like a twig in a winter storm. After a few even strokes of the whetstone on either side of the blade, Starkad leveled the edge to his eye, ensuring no rust had nibbled away at the steel during the voyage by sea.

With his weapon inspection done, Starkad stood and sheathed his sword on his back, warming his hands by the fire until Lord Winterblade called for the group to move out. The Ice Wolf's thoughts lingered to the folly at the entrance. If he had said something or done something, perhaps they would not have been one man short.

[Jacogos]

Daimus scoffed irritably at the Falmer's reply, but didn't give one in turn; if she wanted to turn his jest into an acidic jibe, so be it. He smiled slightly at Snowfall's glance, fingers caressing the pommel of his sword. After the show of opening the door, the group entered the Barrow, and Daimus set his mind to more important things: keeping himself alive.

The antechamber was refreshingly trap-free, although that was the only thing refreshing about it. The air was stale and dry, years of no airflow making its mark on the man-made cavern's atmosphere. Daimus almost immediately began to feel claustrophobic, the amount of people in the group not helping the situation. Closing his eyes with a hand pinching the bridge of his nose, Daimus took a few breaths to calm himself before settling his pack amongst the others.

"Anything other than draugr we need to be watching for, Captain?" Daimus asked without preamble, running a mental checklist of the spells he knew by heart. Mostly Destruction spells, with very few of his spell from the other schools being useful for combat. He grimaced at that. As an afterthought, he checked his pack for his scrolls.

"Son of a troll, where did I put my scrolls..." he muttered to himself, chuckling slightly at the accidental rhyme. The humor was gone as it was quickly replaced by irritation; he knew he had brought them with him from the ship... hadn't he?

[Rayne7]

The moment the large nord spoke of Daedric realms, curiosity sparked to life in the Bosmer's mind. The realm of night and land of the hunt referred to Hircine's hunting grounds. While commonly worshipped by those who did not follow the Aedra, he found it odd that a Nordic Tomb would be of Daedric nature. That brought to mind a whole new slew of thoughts about what could lie below inside the barrow itself. He cursed his lack of silver weapons.

"I have a thought; how many Barrows have an inscription referring to the Huntsman? It could mean lycanthropes, possibly undead ones." He shrugged. "Then again that might be over-thinking it. But if they are, they'll be faster, stronger, and harder to kill."

He shed his small pack and put away a couple of potions in hidden pockets where they wouldn't break and waste the contents of the healing potions. After ensuring the security and condition of his weapons, he moved to stand with those ready to follow the Captain, studying one of his daggers as he awaited the plan the Captain was likely forming.

If it was anything like the standard militaristic mind he knew soldiers to have, then he would either send out scouts to find out what's ahead, or he would keep them together and ensure the safety of the group. Of the candidates for scouting, there was himself and the Khajiit, both capable of moving quietly. Of course, if he followed that route it would be best to send both. If he was to keep them together, then they would be crowded, making retreat nigh impossible in narrow tunnels, and accidents more likely among friendlies.

Looking to the crew, he wondered how many 'accidents' might happen.

[Imperial1917]

A crashing sound was not exactly the notice that Isus had expected that the doors were open. Or fallen down, more like, by the looks of things. Exactly what the Captain had conjured up to open the doors was beyond him, intent on he was on musings about the past and the amusing play between the crew.

The Captain called to the crew and soon they were passing through into the cold, dark of the Barrow. Well, not all of them. Isus noted that one of the Captain's men apparently decided to sit out. A smart move as well. He looked as if someone had taken a mallet to his head and a cleaver to his hand. Operationally deceased then. He watched them go by, a wristful look on his face and an almost wolf-like hunger in his eyes, which Isus noted had trappings of yellow setting in. Perhaps an illness as well. The man ought to find a more proper healer than the potion in his hands sooner than later. Wounds close, but the blind stay blind.

Unless the Gods smiled on them, of course.

Isus also noted, to his annoyance, that the bulky Nord had taken rearguard position. That made Isus second to last in the formation. This was swept from his attention soon enough though, as they passed into the antechamber and most sight of the Nord was cloaked into shadow. Seeing this, or rather, not seeing, Isus turned and raised his hand. He had already seen the Captain's candlelight spell. Still, it seemed to be a poor source for a party so large, brilliant as it was. As far as Isus could tell, none of the others had had the foresight to bring so much as kindling, let alone a torch. A nimbus of power played around his hand, giving less light than the candlelight. Then he sent a dim ball of light up above the heads of the party. It traveled for some time before striking the ceiling and rebounding to hover next to what it hit. It seemed that Isus had the fortune to hit the center of the ceiling. The light expanded and gave comfortable, if not particularly bright, illumination to the entire antechamber.

Isus saw under the new light that the crew and the Mer were now milling about the antechamber. The Captain himself had unshouldered his sword and was clearly observing the chamber. To the passive observer, it might have seemed that he was a scholar admiring the architecture. To Isus, it was clear that he was looking for much less obvious materials. He murmured something about dropping gear that Isus was sure that none of them should have to spare for a trip to a location an hour away from a major Mer city that Isus chose to ignore. Still, Isus readied himself all the same.

Looking to the rest of the crew, Isus noticed a troubled look cross the bulky Nord's face before it vanished. The man might have been objecting to the excavation of one of his people's sacred resting places. Then again, he was more likely wary of treading where the dead did not rest. As Isus watched, the warrior set down while the others gathered around a lit brazer and started applying a whetstone to his blade. It was, Isus knew, done with practiced movement. He was clearly no stranger to such routines. Isus himself saluted, albeit silently, the man's attention to his wargear and then questioned why it was done once in hostile territory. Isus had checked his own wargear after retrieving them. But then, the old warrior seemed at home enough and Isus would reserve judgement for him.

A curse under breath drew Isus attention moments later as the Dunmer smith murmured to himself. He seemed to be searching for something. Well, thought Isus, he can always go back to get it. Two hour round trip. He should be able to manage. Then again, he probably should have had his gear in order the night before. What in Oblivion was he doing then? Stalking people in the snowstorm? More than likely, Isus considered.

[Aureyon]

Snowfall entered the darkness of the barrow, and her senses were invaded, with the aroma of aged skin-wraps and moldy crevasses. Her eyes scanned the antechamber, and she looked up as the Captain threw up an enchanted light that moved around his head, never straying too far out of range; the paranoid Templar also threw up a magic light that managed to stick itself into the center of the antechamber, allowing a soft light to beat back the darkness within. She listened as the Captain gave the order to drop their gear, that they wouldn't need with them, and to prepare to scour the tomb.

Her eyes found their way to a shadowed corner of the Antechamber, beneath the remnants of an ancient nord statue, and she thought to herself, “It will do”. She strode over to the corner, with just enough room for three to four other bodies and proceeded to place her gear on the ground and pull roots, that were growing through the cracks in the floor, and placing them in a neat circular fashion. She then proceeded to take some extra wrappings that happened to be on the floor, and unrolled them, tearing them into thin shreds and coating them in oil, from a small container that she had acquired before leaving the Bastion. She then proceeded to call forth a small fire spell, that responded rather quickly to her voice and allowed her to light her miniature campfire, ablaze.

With her position secured, and the warmth of the fire flooding over her skin, like water over marble, she stood and began to throw together a crude bedding, made of various cloths and other textiles, from her pack. After finishing her domestic activities, she proceeded to join the rest of the group near the brazier. However, her eyes remained ahead of her, as if focusing on something in the distance, her voice not seeming to want to present itself. She just nodded to those around her and stood, awaiting further orders from the man, Winterblade.

[StormyNyte]

The sudden crash of stone against stone drew Arayna's attentions back to the door of the barrow where one of the Nords was now sitting with a bloodied head. Traps already... she thought sourly as she made her way inside with her thrall at her heels. It was dark when she stepped into the antechamber, save for the light of the captain's spell and her thrall's flames that cast eerily shivering shadows. But before the Mage had a moment to cast her own spell to shed the darkness, a bright light flashed into existence above them, the sudden transition making her shield her eyes for a moment. With a curse, she looked for who had cast such a spell without warning only to realize that it had been the Templar. Frowning at him, she unshouldered her pack and found an out of the way spot to roll out her bedroll and set up camp. She could sense already that she and the holy man would likely come to blows eventually before everything were through.

Once her camp was set, she began to cast a few quick spells before joining the rest. The first she cast was an alteration spell that brought a strange bluish aura to swirl around her body before dissipating and giving her flesh the darker tint of ebony. It wouldn't last for the entire venture, but at least it would offer more armor protection than she had at the moment. Once finished with that, she then pointed to the rest of the group and began to murmur one of her more powerful illusion spells, her outstretched hand trembling ever so slightly from the strain of her depleting magica as thin blue wisps of light circled each member of their party, giving them the feeling of newfound fortitude once her call to arms spell was complete. Dropping her hand, she leaned heavily on her staff for a moment regain her energy. If they died now, at least no one could say she didn't at least try to keep them alive.

Once she regained most of her magica energy, she rejoined the rest of them. She was ready.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Khinada was barely paying attention and did not notice the doors opening until the captain called for everyone to move inside. Once within the darkness, the stale stench of dust and death assaulted her nose, causing her to shudder slightly. It wasn't long after that her Khajiit eyes went to work, everything becoming a bit more visible to her in shades of greenish grey. When she spied Daimus frantically searching for his scrolls, she couldn't keep from grinning. She had borrowed them for some light reading while they were still aboard the ship and hadn't gotten around to returning them yet. Silently, she crept up behind him and, while he was momentarily distracted, she withdrew them from her satchel and slipped them back into his pack without a sound before melting further into the darkness.

She was not hindered in the slightest by the lack of light, that is until Isus decided to call the sun into existence without so much as a hint of a warning. The explosion of light assaulted her widened pupils and causing her to hiss in frustration over her momentary light-blindness. When she could see again, she called out to the offender. "A warning next time would be most appreciated, friend!" With that, she made her way closer to where Starkad had chosen to set up camp and began setting up her own. Watching him warm his hands, she spoke softly. "The air is most foul in here, there is nothing but death in these halls... Khinada does not like this at all." Once unpacked, she rose and moved to join the others before suddenly feeling a sense of fortitude and heightened determination. Puzzled, she turned to see the snow elf Mage leaning on her staff. The magician has placed a spell on us... Let us hope it serves us for the better and not ill...

[SikstaSlathalin]

Allester nodded his thanks to Arayna for the spell and waited for everyone to have their spot picked out before he dropped his pack to the stone sheathing his sword.
"Ok, everyone, this Barrow has five levels and the Hall of Stories the first level needs to be crossed before we can get to the rest. So until then we will be moving as a full group, keep an eye out for traps and watch the back of the people on both sides of you. After we reach the end of this level we will split into four group of three and each team will take a level and clear it. Any treasure you find that isn't a historical document of some kind is all yours, now you can either mark where you found the loot and come back to retrieve it or bring your packs and stuff it all in there. I for one plan to leave it where I find it and pick it up later. Let's move."

He moved towards one of the Braziers and looked into the blackness for a few seconds wondering just what is staring back at him, Daimus's question came to his mind and he realized he never answered it turning to face the Dunmer something caught his eye for a second. Taking a quick glance he studied an empty shelf where a body would be placed. Etched in the runes above it was the word "Jotunson" Jornheim's ancestors must've been a part of the Colony. Logging it away for later he looked at the Dark Elf and answered.
"Well anyone who has been through one of these knows Skeever and Frostbite Spiders like making their homes in these tunnels. Those aside I can't rightly say, this place has been sealed tight for centuries. So it could be nothing but Drauger or we can be facing down Daedra planted here by whoever put that seal on the door. Keep your weapons and spells at the ready. Candlelight spell going up!" With that he led the group into the night after casting the spell he warned about and allowing the Wraitheart's spell to give him much confidence to keep himself relaxed.

Level one was cleared with ease; the three traps were disarmed, all the torches and braziers lit, the chests unlocked, and the goods called, but left for later. No enemies absconded them yet but that didn't mean anything, as they reached the end they came into a room with four door ways leading into four deep and dark staircases. The moment of truth was at hand scanning the room Allester sighed turning to his group.
"Ok everyone, here is where we split ways for now. Now I don't know what awaits us in this place, and I'd much rather not drag anyone's dead body through the Barrow so do not become complacent and watch not only your back but the back of the other's in your group. Now I've divided the groups as evenly as I could, you don't like it, tough. It's too late to play favourites now." He turned to each crewmen and put them in a group.
"Stark, Khinada, and Arorn, you three will take the second level. Daimus, Snowfall, and Sovia, you will get the third level. Miri, Isus, and Aryana, the fourth level is yours. Graesin and Varic you two will join me on the fifth level. May the Divines bless our endeavours, good luck to you all."

With a nod to Miri, Daimus, and Stark they led their teams through the thresholds and soon it was only Allester and his group left in the little room.
"Let's go gentlemen, we have slightly further to walk than the others." The two Mer nodded to the Nord who gently gripped the hilt of his Dwarven Sword as he walked into the dark stairwell only his candlelight spell marking his movement gripping their weapons they followed the Captain keeping close to the little light the orb was giving off.

[StormWolf]

The room had faded away and Starkad had been consumed by his own thoughts and reflections for a short while. His eyes stared at the lapping tongues of fire, snapping in the musky air to send shadows dancing across the ancient, damp stone. Even with the blazing fire, there was a chill that cut straight to the bone, something unnatural. Most Nords were fearful of the Barrows, as they serve as a reminded of times long passed and lurked with restless and murderous forebears. Starkad, however, had a special apprehension of this place. The nature of the enchantment on the door continued to roll through Starkad's mind, echoing like a dragon's roar across the fjords.

The Ice Wolf would have stayed lost to his reverie without Khinada's interjection, which snapped Starkad back to the Barrow and out of a darker corner in the back of his mind. Turning to face the Khajiit, Starkad looked her in the eyes as she spoke, those chips of ice boring hard into hers. He understood her apprehension, but it was not the same as his. The dead were as simple to kill as anything else that eats, drinks, and shits in the mud.

"There is something beyond than death here, Khinada. Something colder and darker and far more sinister. I can feel it..." said the Nord, placing his fist over his heart and rapping on the iron plate. Stepping away from the fire, Starkad took a seat beside Khinada, his hand resting on her thigh, softly stroking the taught and slender limb. "What we talked about during our... bath... that fear... I feel it and it makes my bones like ice. What those old runes said to me has me very afraid for everyone in this stinking boil of the world." said Starkad, speaking lowly to Khinada. He was unsure what to refer to her as, currently. Together they had crossed the platonic boundary of friendship, but Starkad was hesitant to refer to her as a lover. Such titles of affection made him uneasy. Clearing his throat, Starkad gave Khinada's thigh a small squeeze before standing, extending a hand to help her up as the Lord-Captain summoned them all to dole out assignments.

Always the commander, Allester, Starkad thought.

Proceeding through the first level with the entirety of the crew, Starkad saw nothing he could make good use of beyond his share of the coinst which he stuffed in the leather coin purse at his belt. They were gold and very aged, though in prime condition. Starkad was not a historian, but he could imagine how a more scholarly individual would be giddy at being in a place like the Barrow so long as they had a man like Starkad, or several, within screaming distance. Reaching the second level, Starkad split off from the group with Khinada and Arorn in tow. The mighty Nord smiled beneath his helm at the level of convenience that put Khinada in the same party as himself. The Lord-Captain knew, somehow, though thinking back on it, Starkad was sure half of the Snow Elves on the island knew due to the noise.

Shaking the thought from his head, Starkad took the first few steps into the musty room, seemingly untouched for untold lifetimes. Milky white webs congested the cramped corners and fine dust floated in the still air. Starkad strained his senses, stretching them as far as he could. All he could hear was the grinding of stone beneath boot heels and the fading commotion of the group as they moved deeper down the Barrow, deeper into the belly of the beast. Unsheathing his greatsword, Starkad shouldered the sharpened length of steel, studying the floor and walls,

"Khinada, you are lighter on your feet than I. Be a darling and see if you can locate and disarm the trap triggers. Should one be triggered, I will be at your side with my shield," said Starkad, patting the banded iron shield at his back. With his axe in Khinada's possession, the best he could do with it was use it as a turtle's shell. He then turned to Arorn, the Thalmor. Starkad was, needless to say, dismayed to have a High Elf at his back. The Nord was never one to trust the magical arts with the wiles of the Thalmor.

"Arorn, standby with your... Magic.... stuff." said Starkad, honestly unrefined and uneducated in the ways of magic beyond the enchantment of weapons.

[Imperial1917]

Isus shot a dark glare at the back of the Khajiit for its insolence. The furball had not the foresight to bring any implement of illumination into a dark place and then had the gall to criticize what may indeed have saved its life. Isus ignored it. Let the Nord deal with such things.

The Captain stopped to chatter some instructions and inane warnings before proceeding to lead them through the first level. The politician as ever, he signaled before putting up another Candlelight spell. Isus let him. The path was relatively straightforward, so there was no need to add any more illumination as Isus took up the rearguard position once more. Isus paused, noting a sudden angry surge by Wraithguard. Whoever or whatever had triggered it obviously was oblivious to its fickle nature. He squinted at the back of the foul conjurer, certain that she was responsible for the intrusion. Whatever it was, Wraithguard settled after a while, clearly content with whatever had been done. Isus made a note to keep the Mer within striking range.

At long last they reached the end of the first floor, coming to a halt before a set of staircases. Isus was sure, given the construction of the place, that no man of reason had made it. It appeared that each staircase led solely to a designated floor rather than all the floors. A waste of good material and room. However, that was not what bothered Isus the most. No, what bothered him the most was exactly that which the Captain decided to do next. True, there was little room in such places for such a large party, but he did not relish the idea of splitting up, particularly after he heard the groups.

The First Mate he trusted to a certain extent and the Mer not at all. However, after a pause of thought, Isus determined that there was nothing for it. The Captain was clearly looking for efficiency and balance over being politick. Isus was sure that this would get them into needless bouts in the future, but there was no sense arguing now. Nodding to the First Mate, he moved to the door leading to the fourth floor and pushed it open. A Candlelight spell gave illumination to the dark interior and the First Mate went in. Isus turned to the Mer and waited, noting that the receding footsteps of the First Mate halted just beyond the door.

[SikstaSlathalin]

Deep within the Bluestone Barrow an ancient force made the air ripple and sent cascades of dust and dirt into the suffocating still air of the grand tomb. At the top of dais at the foot of a massive gold statue of Hircine a truly massive sarcophagus dominated to horizon. Twelve feet long, and at least half that wide. All round it were mounds of treasure and weapons of the most amazing craftmaship, the sarcophagi of lesser Draugr lined the walls and poked out from under piles of coins and gems. As the dust settled the giant sarcophagus at the foot of Hircine rumbled and the lid shifted slightly. One clawed hand gripped the edge of the coffin and a deep growl rumbled through the air.

[Rayne7]

Graesin’s new bow was gripped in his left hand, arrow nocked. The light from the orb was harsh, casting everything in it’s blue light, making things visible but still difficult to see. A musty scent filled the tomb, not unusual or unexpected, but it was the sense of...not life, but unlife that caught his attention. It was a sense of magic, the kind many feared and hated because of the connotations it’d been given, especially since it violated people’s sense of honoring the dead, seeming to be a blasphemy. But as far as he was concerned, the souls were no longer in the bodies that were mere shells being manipulated.

Suddenly the hall widened, giving them more room. Skeletons laid in hollowed out shelves built into the walls. But it was the corpses standing in the alcoves that made his fingers flex on the string a moment before he turned around at the sound of a footstep, releasing the arrow to strike the draugr in the eye. As the body hit the ground he turned around, noting the others weren’t moving. Yet.

“We can kill them quietly to keep them from gathering behind us, or try to sneak past all of them. Which do you want to do?” he asked, already guessing the man’s answer. He was efficient if nothing else.

Allester pulled the crossbow off his back and loaded a bolt.
"Kill them quietly, Varic scout ahead disarm any traps you can find. If we can get through this without being stuck in open conflict I'll take it." Winterblade has been through many Barrows and tombs in his travels, and each time he gets the feeling of dread like he is spitting in the face of the Aedra or in this case the Daedra, he'll have to pray to Arkay for forgiveness should he get out of this place. He quickly shot a bolt through the head of one of the Drauger in the alcoves. They would have to come loot the dead once they cleared this level.

Varic had crept ahead on the Captain's orders, he's been all over the island, he's fought pirates, smugglers, Imperial Spies looking to set up shop too close the Bastion. There were other smaller burial sites dotted around but he'd never gone into them. Either out of fear or respect was debatable, all he knew was this didn't feel right. He had spotted the first of the traps, a pressure plate attached to some dart shooters. He had studied these types of things in the library of the Bastion so disarming it was an easy affair.

Graesin followed the Captain until they reached a small chamber. To their left was a room with a chest sitting on a table. Around them were more alcoves filled with the ancestors, though as of yet they were unmoving and at rest. Putting away his bow, Grae drew his daggers as he nodded to Varic and they began quietly dispatching those in the alcoves.

As he stepped before one of them he heard a footstep, making him freeze. Listening carefully, he held up a hand, silently telling the others to be as quiet as possible. Looking to the left he saw an opening where they would continue after clearing the room, and heard the footstep closer. He moved beside the opening, gripping his daggers as he waited. When he heard the Draugr’s pace quicken, he knew one of them had been seen. Suddenly his dagger struck upward into the jaw of the fast-moving ancient Nord, using it to hold him up as he silently laid it back down.

But when he turned around, he saw he had been too late; six more stepped out of their alcoves with swords, axes, and shields. Rolling forward, he stabbed one through the stomach before spinning and burying the blade into the head of the first one he reached, then turned and threw the other dagger to pin yet another’s wrist to the wall. Ducking under the swing of an axe even as Varic sent an ice spear through the chest of the would-be attacker, Graesin rushed the pinned foe only to lean back, narrowly avoiding an axe that sought his neck before reversing his grip on his dagger and stabbing the Draugr in the eye.


As the six undead awoke and went on the attack the Captain knew the crossbow would be too dangerous in this hall. He didn't want to run the risk of shooting Graesin or Varic, slinging it across his back he drew the Dwarven sword and ducked down grabbing the waraxe of a monster Graesin killed, the Bosmer and Falmer had brought down three so that left three for the old warrior to put down. Stepping under the swing of a greatsword he slashed the knee out from under the attacker before smashing the axe blade deep into it's skull. Yanking it free he soundly kicked the next Draugr in the back to throw it off balance be he stabbed his sword through it's back hearing a weak growl before the creature fell limp off his blade. He had lost sight of the last Draugr but quickly found it about to take Varic's head off, not on Allester's watch though. Dropping the sword he quickly threw the axe to his right hand and wound his arm back before throwing the waraxe into the back to Draugr dropping it like a shot deer.

With the Draugr beaten Allester retrieved his sword and sheathed it walking to Graesin and Varic's side.
"Well, if that's any indication of what's to come we'll be in for quite a fight gentlemen, come let's get moving more show up." He nodded to the other men and summoned another Candlelight sphere walking carefully around the corner.

Graesin started to follow when a shiny object caught his eye from one of the draugr. Walking over to it, he saw a silver ruby ring, the depths within the gemstone shining with a light that seemed to come from within. Taking it from the draugr and putting it on his own hand, he found that he could suddenly see in the dark, though the candlelight spell made everything painfully bright. Looking at the ring, he nearly smiled. If he got nothing else from this excursion, at least he’d have the ring.

Standing, he went to catch up with Allester. “Think I’ll scout ahead. Found a ring that makes your candlelight painful.”

With a nod from the Captain, he took off at a jog to get some distance, still moving quietly. Once he judged he was far enough to warn him of any traps or draugr, he slowed his pace to a brisk walk, watching the shadows that were now so clear to him carefully.

A sudden pressure against his ankle made him freeze, and looking down he carefully pulled back his foot from the tripwire that nearly blended in with the ground, so aptly placed. Getting a few feet between him and the trap, he raised his bow and shot it, bringing two spears stabbing down from the ceiling and two from the floor.

Moving forward with a bit more caution, he found a draugr patrolling a hall in front of a door to a room, four unopened sarcophagi on either side. Deciding on a course of action, he drew back his arrow and aimed carefully, judging the movement and speed before letting the arrow fly, dropping the draugr with an arrow through the head. For a moment it seemed it had garnered no attention, and Graesin took a step for the door when all four of the sarcophagi opened at once, dust rising as four draugr began their slow ascent into life. Two arrows ended the rise of two, and a dagger stopped a third. The fourth swung it’s two-handed axe, and found a dagger in it’s eye.

Going to the door, he found it unlocked and when he opened, he saw a library teeming with draugr. Closing it, he considered his options. He’d always performed better alone, but there had been at least two of the draugr with flame spells in their hands, and he didn’t want to risk burning the library the man would want to preserve.

Turning back, he went back to the Captain. “I’ve found a library. Don’t know what the books contain, but inside is at least two magic-wielding draugr, three two-handed axe wielders, two greatsword wielders, two bowmen, three with swords and shields, and four dual wielding. I’d suggest letting me take the magic ones first with my bow, that way they don’t burn anything of importance, then you and Varric can continue while I do what I can with my bow to keep them from overwhelming you.”

Allester absorbed Graesin's report nodding slowly pulling the crossbow off his back loading a bolt.
"You take out the mages Graesin, I'll get the archers, Varic take out the battle axe user and the two with greatswords. We must protect this library, be stealthy, and only attack when you know you have a killing shot. We might find evidence of a long lost Septim in this place and he can take his place as the Emperor." This last bit was something of a joke, but you never know. They discovered a lost race of Snow Elves after all, at this point anything was possible for this voyage. Crouch-walking into the chamber the old warrior counted the same number of walking dead as the Bosmer. The Archers were on the high path of the second level of the library, the mages patrolling the middle path of the second level and the melee fighters were skulking around the bottom floor.

This would be touch-and-go to both kill these creatures and save this library. Waiting for the other two to take the positions Allester gave a nod and pulled the trigger of his crossbow, the bolt shot out and one of the bowman dropped like a silent sack of rocks, and before the other archer realized what was going on it met a similar fate with the bolt going through it's eye and killing it again. Taking his cue from the Captain, Varic shot long lances of ice out and penetrated the heads of the Draugr with great swords dropping them quickly. Allester loaded another bolt into his crossbow and began dropping the battleaxers. All this done from the shadows by three pople who were thankfully skilled at skulking through shadow.

Graesin nodded his understanding of the Captain’s instructions before following him into the library. Using his bow, he nocked and sighted at one mage, moved to the left until the arrow would strike the furthest one behind the other and fired, taking the mage in the chest. A slight adjustment sent a second into the back of the other mage, bringing them down within a second and a half, and within five seconds most of the enemies were dead, leaving 3 shield-men and 4 dual wielders.

Drawing and firing two more dropped two of the dual-wielding draugr before he sheathed his bow to draw his swords. Varic fired two more ice spears that brought two of the three remaining shieldmen to their knees just as Grae leapt over the side, using their bodies to cushion his fall even as he stabbed them through their backs, finishing them. Tearing one sword out to block a blow from the remaining dual wielder, he spun and eviscerated his foe then hacked into the back of the neck, blade catching in it’s spine. A sidestep brought him to a stabbing shieldman’s side, where he lashed out with a dagger between the ribs into the being’s heart in lungs, making it stagger before stabbing where the spine connected at the base of the skull.

A sudden bolt of lightning dropped the last to it’s knee only for him to sprint and use his momentum to stab under it’s jaw even as he tackled it to the floor, finishing the last foe. Retrieving his weapons, he took a quick look around to confirm there were no reinforcements before nodding to the Captain. It was clear.

Once everything was clear Allester slung the crossbow across his back and walked fearlessly into the archives of Bluestone Barrow. It was a miracle any of these had survived this long even with the icy cold environment and being undisturbed for centuries. Walking through the hall he lit the fire stands illuminating the whole room. With the threats eliminated the Captain took his time inspecting the library giving the shelves a cursory look over looking for anything that might actually point him towards a long lost member of the Septim line. By the time he reached the end of the lbrary though nothing showed him such a thing on the surface, he would have to study these closer after this was all over. As he lit the lfast brazier he found himself staring at another door slightly more ornate then the rest he had seen. Drawing his sword from it's sheath he gently opend the door to see if he could peek at what's behind it. As he pushed it past the strong threshold he saw the golden glow of a magical flame, not usually a good sign. Pushing it further he saw a large stone throne..really not a good sign. It was half open before he saw what occupied the throne, just as he thought it was a Draugr Deathlord and extremly tall and wizendly looking one. As quickly and quietly as he could he shut the door and moved back to where he left Varic and Graesin.
"Bad news lads, there is a Draugr Deathlord in the next toom. I didn't see any weapons near him so I'm assuming this one is a mage of some sort. We need a plan to bring it down and save this Library any ideas?"

Varic thought for a few seconds before speaking first.
"Well, if we all focused a sneak attack and shot as one we might be able to at least surprise it enough to allow us to rush it and riddle it with melee attacks." This wasn't the type of attack the Snow Elf Mage would usually bring to the fore, but from what's he's reasd about Draugr and wha he's experinced so far in this hole quick and dirty was the best way to deal with these things.

Graesin considered their options and concurred with the mage. Everything he’d heard about Deathlords indicated that attacking one was ill-advised due to the amount of damage it would take. After a moment of stroking his chin, an idea struck and his eyes snapped to the Captain’s.

“I have an idea. Undead creatures tend to be especially weak towards fire. If you and I could occupy the Deathlord’s attention, Varic could stay back and use fire magic. Perhaps even conjure up a flame atronach.” he turned to Varic. “Just make sure you warn us before you do something that could hurt us as well.”

Varic looked from the Bosmer to the Captain and agreed with a nod. His studies in the library had suggested as much, so the plan made sense. After they lost the element of surprise with their first attack, it gave them a basic plan that would keep everyone in their element.

Graesin drew his bow and nocked an arrow, letting them go through first before whispering a prayer well outside hearing distance, then stepped through himself. The brightness of the room had him squinting for a brief moment after having had to rely on the candlelight spell for so long. Seeing the Deathlord on it’s throne had his fingers flexing on the string as he looked for a path of shadows. Noting that the walls on either side of the braziers that lit their path, shadows were deep and followed alongside the path intended for them. Nodding to the Captain, he ducked low and moved into the shadows, quickly seeming to blend with the darkness around him.

Thanking Nocturnal that he wore his muffle-enchanted boots, he moved quickly over the ground until he was a mere forty yards from the Deathlord, hidden behind a pillar. Then he studied the area and cursed. The throne was further back on a dais, but the path that they’d have to use to reach it had a hidden danger; two poles stuck out of the earth, each with soul gems. It was a trap he’d ran into when escaping them.

Looking to the Captain, he held up his hand to catch his attention, then pointed to the trap. Resorting to military hand-sign, he messaged that after their initial attack on the Deathlord, he would shoot the gems out off the poles, rending them harmless. Looking back to see Varic hidden in the shadows on his side but further back, he nodded to him then drew an arrow even as the others prepared. Then he awaited the Captain’s signal.

Allester nodded loading an exploding Fire Bolt into his crossbow, he let out tense breath waiting for his senses to calm and his heart to slow. He never liked facing down powerful mages, even to someone with the Captain's wordly views and opinions the old Nord mistrust of magic still found it's way to the surface once in awhile. Once he old warrior doubled checked everything was in place he gave the signal to Graesin who quickly shot down the Soul Gems, beofre loading another arrow to his new bow and with perfect timing preceding Allester's fire bolt they both struck the mage soundly in the face the fire bolt engulfing the creature's head in flame. It woke up with an inhuman scream and the door to it's chamber slammed shut trapping them all in the room. With the initial attacked delivered Allester and Graesin dove aside as Varic sent a wall of flame spell down the chamber directly into the Deathlord followed by three Incinerate spells. The Draugr howled in pain before blasting at the Snow Elf with three spells one after the other. Thunderbolt, Incinerate, and Icy Spear, knowing the nurances of magical combat Varic ducked behind the pillar he was behind before and let the spells batter it's worn stone surface hoping Allester and Graesin can kill this thing soon.

Aas the Deathlord awoke and attacked Varic, Allester threw down his cross bow and drew Firestorm off his back. With a nod to Graesin they went on the melee offensive. Allester charged forward and slashed the creature across it's back before ramming the sword fully through the creature's leg pinning it to the ground. Before it could react he leapt onto it's back and pulled it back exposing it's neck and chest shouting at Graesin.

"Kill it now!"

Following Allester, Graesin was forced to roll to the side as the mages cast spells at each other, some barely missing him by inches. Seeing the Captain pinning the Deathlord, he tossed his bow aside and drew his swords, ducking under a lightning bolt directed at him from his opponent. Moving quickly, he sprinted up to the two and just as it started to move, he stabbed it with both blades through it’s neck and chest, withdrew, and stabbed again before twisting his blades to be certain of it’s death.

The suddenness of it’s death was somewhat stunning. Stories told of fighting such creatures often ended either in tragedy or bittersweet for the warriors who fought them, and here they had bested one with relative ease. But the journey wasn’t over, Grae reflected as he cleaned his blades and collected his other weapons. Varic stepped out and looked on in mild surprise.

Looking around, Grae decided that he should speak with the Captain before they met up with the crew; while he could always speak with the Captain alone aboard the ship in his cabin, he wanted to be certain the others could not hear. Looking to the mage, he decided the Snow Elf would need to know if they were to travel together anyways.

“Captain, if I may have a moment before we proceed? I would like to discuss the situation between the Templar and the Mer aboard your ship.” Graesin said, hoping the Captain would hear him out before dismissing him as being racist or afraid of the man.

As the Deathlord fell defeated Allester breathed a sigh of relief, it was quickness that won them this day moreso than martial skills. A Deathlord, if given the chance would've most likely killed on of them and severely wounded the other two before falling itself. Pulling his sword from the corpse he sheathed it across his back and went to retrieve his crossbow. As Graesin spoke if Isus's tension with all the non-humans on the ship Allester sighed deeply, he knew it would come up eventually.

"Ay Graesin?"

Graesin moved to the Captain, so that his words wouldn’t be mistaken for lies as the Captain studied his body language. The Templar was a problem, and while the Bosmer understood it was a mixture of history and upbringing, he felt that someone should keep it from reaching the point of spilled blood.

“I understand the Templar has problems accepting the non-human races; I do not begrudge him that. Perhaps he has reason to. With the history between the Mer and humans, the racism and hate that has resulted in wars over the years, there’s likely to never be true peace. But this is something else: we share a ship, rooms, and food. Quarters are tight and that can get bad enough when everyone gets along, much less under these circumstances.” Graesin shifted, folding his arms over one another.


“I don’t wish for a fight. I’m not looking to throw him off the ship, nor to cause a problem. The contract I signed when I took this has nothing to do with what I say now: somehow we need to form some kind of understanding. Now I’ll do what I can to listen and make sure no one attacks him, and I know you’ve told him not to attack us. You’re smart enough to see the same thing that I do; an undertaking this big requires us to be a unit, undivided and loyal. You’ve got your work cut out for you as it is with a crew this suspicious of each other. I’ll do what I can to help, and I’ll even try to make peace with the Templar. I’m not going to die because I can’t trust those behind me to have my back.”

"But if he raises his sword against me with the intent to kill, I will kill him."

Every word was calm and sincere; it had been a problem that had been developing and though he didn't truly see it becoming resolved anytime in the future, Graesin was willing to put forth the effort. But even the Captain couldn't expect him not to defend himself, and if he did then he was a fool. The moment the Templar attacked, he voided his contract and would become free game. And the Bosmer would collect if necessary. He had nothing against the man, but he wouldn't become a victim.

Allester followed the Mers words closely studying his words, tone, and body language. Once he was finished the Nord Captain nodded.

"Thank you for voicing your concerns Graesin, I understand where you're coming from and I see this coming up again. I know he's a bit of a Cave Bear, but I would like to think I know his occupation. They are holy warriors, he can growl and roar all he wants, but I trust him not to be that stupid. While I'll never damn someone for defending themselves, I would hope an issue could be resolved like an adult would resolve it. Otherwise both sides would be in trouble if both sides live to see the end. Make peace if you can Graesin, now let's finish up here. I think I saw a couple of chests that need opening." He says patting the Bosmer's shoulder lightly exiting the Deathlord's chamber.

Graesin watched the Captain leave and sighed. He’d voiced his concern and while the Captain’s response was slightly less than satisfying, it was enough. Looking to Varic who looked at him with a thoughtful expression, he shook his head and followed Winterblade to collect his share of the gold and gemstones. When they were back in the library he took a look at the books, noting their titles until he came to a stop at one about lockpicking. Raking the book, he decided to take it, placing it in a small satchel he carried for items of interest.

“So what did you find out so far? I assume you’ve been gathering information ever since we got here. Anything of interest?”

Allester had picked the locks of the nearest chest and flipped up the heavy lid, inside was a few gems and much to the Nord's surprise a silver dragon claw. Pulling out the gleaming metla he whistled slightly.

"Indeed, I have Graesin, I found a Silver Dragon Claw." He showed the ornamnet to the Bosmer and Falmer. Let's just hope the door this opens doesn't hold another Deathlord." He chuckled lightly placing the claw on a pedestal before going through the library more throughly.

At the sight of the Silver Dragon Claw, a shiver went down Graesin’s spine. He still remembered the entrance to the barrow mentioning the hunting grounds and night, both elements of Hircine. The daedra was a bit off, and valued skill above all. An archer, he was a patron to some of Graesin’s kin, and held his respect as well. Regardless, he was also the one who made werewolves, and used them for the Hunt. With that in mind, he continued his search as well.

“If Hircine is involved, then what’s beyond that door is likely to be worse. Thus far has been pretty easy. That tells me the real challenge is beyond that door, though I hope I’m wrong.” he readied an arrow on the string of his bow as they finished their search. “I’m ready when you are, Captain. Hopefully the others aren’t far behind."

Allester nodded and slipped the claw into his belt and drew his blade walking for the back of the chamber with Varic and Graesin following closely behind.

"I fear you may be right friend Graesin." With these final cryptic words delivered the three men walked down the steps that led from the Deathlord's chamber heading for the end of this mad quest.

[Jacogos]

Snowfall smiled slightly when the Captain announced that she would be clearing the fourth level of the barrow with Daimus, and a woman named Sovia. She made her way to Daimus' side, and one could practically feel the energy, and excitement emanating from her, like sunlight on the skin. It wasn't just the fact that she would be with Daimus, but also the thrill of the adventure that was ahead of them, had sent a wave of alertness and eagerness through her body. She was ready to face what was ahead, and retrieve the item that her people had failed to acquire, the future of her people would be decided in this tomb.

“Shall we get going, Daimus?”, Snowfall asked curiously, her eyes already scanning the darkness before them. If it was needed, Snowfall was able to light a torch, from one of the many dead torch's, in the holders on the walls. She was so excited that she was practically bouncing on her heels back and forth, while awaiting an answer from Daimus. It was then that she realized she had not spoken to Sovia, as of yet, and she frowned, slightly embarrassed that she had forgotten her manners.

“Greetings, Sovia of the High-Born”, she turned to the other Mer, a gentle smile playing upon her lips as her silvery hair shimmered in the light. In the light, once could mistake her for being a spirit from the realm of the dead, because the light seemed to frame her in a soft glow.

The little Altmer started at being spoken to for the first time individually since leaving the ship the previous day. Turning her bright-eyed gaze upon her racial cousin, Sovia managed a small smile. "I will enjoy... um... adventuring with you, Snowfall of the Snow Elves... But I'm just Sovia to you."

"No need for titles, right then?" Daimus put in with a hesitant smirk, still uneasy about how suddenly he had found his scrolls. He could have sworn he had looked in that spot at least thrice over, but then all of a sudden, there they were. He had a suspicion, but he'd keep that to himself until the group rejoined one another. For now, the trio split off from the others, no longer part of an entire expedition but a small team. The stakes became tangibly higher.

At the end of the stairs, Daimus paused and shifted his blade in its sheath, peering into the gloom of the barrow. "Before we go any further, I'd like to know what we're all capable of, at least magic-wise. Myself and Sovia are primarily magic-users from what I know, but I don't know what you can do yourself, Snowfall, nor the specifics of your talents, Sovia."

Snowfall smiled warmly at the High-Born, and turned to Daimus as he spoke. She frowned slightly slightly as she realized that his words were true, she hadn't shown her abilities as of yet, and honestly she had never needed to use the shout that she was born with. Of course, she had used it one time before, when she was but a young child, and suffice to say, the unfortunate recipient of the particular shout had to be de-thawed, and had a cold for a while after.

"I can use the Ice Form Shout, all of my kind are able to do so. I am able to use minor destructive and healing magics. But, I favor the bow", she spoke pulling her bow from her back, as if to emphasize her point.

Sovia jumped at the mention of her name, and turned to the Dark Elf, "I am skilled in Frost magic and healing as well, both medicinal and magical. I can fight in close combat, but I know not much about it, and fear that I would do terribly. I can provide you healing at best. I fear I won't be much use in combat."

Sovia flinched internally as she finished, hoping that she didn't disappoint her new friends as she did her parents.

Daimus nodded solemnly, mostly to himself, though Snowfall did receive a slight look of disbelief when she mentioned the Shout. "Strange that a skill so closely related to Nordic ancestry and lore would manifest in an entire race of Mer... First I've heard of it, at least. I'm sure we could put it to good use. Regardless, it'll be fine, Sovia. I'm... able to use a sword and have enough talent with Destruction magic to keep anything nasty off of us. Seems like I'm going to be the front-line man here, then," he finished with a chuckle, nodding at both of the other Mer with a small smile. He paused after that, gazing over at Sovia with a curious look, but then frowned and shook his head.

"I was about to offer you my crossbow; all you'd have to do is point and shoot with it, not much skill involved, but reloading it takes a bit of strength. Easy enough for a blacksmith like me, but do you think you would be able to handle it?"

Sovia shook her head, immediately, and fearfully. She knew that she wouldn't be able to use the crossbow, and thought it be better if she were to handle the restorative arts. She had to be of some use, but to what extent, would be decided in the future. No doubt that her companions would protect her, but she didn't want to be dead weight.

"I fear that I cannot use a crossbow. But, I can use a dagger", she says pulling a dagger from her robes and wielding it in an awkward, yet firm, grip. Daimus grimaced at her answer, but nodded in understanding, turning his attention back to what he had brought with him, previously stored in his armor's pockets but now in his hands.

"Here," he said, handing a single scroll to both Sovia and Snowfall. "I myself have never dabbled much in Alteration, but Mage Armor spells are beyond useful. This one is Ironflesh. If you get in trouble, that might... well, save your skin." He repressed a smirk at the bad play on words.

With that settled, Daimus, Snowfall, and Sovia took their first hesitant steps into the long unexplored barrow of Captain Bluestone. At first, there was little stopping them from venturing forward, just a straightforward path with a few dips and turns as they proceeded. It wasn't long before they hit their first trap, a standard stretch of swinging blades. Snowfall, being much lighter on her feet than Daimus, went through first, slipping by the blades with nary a nick and pulling the lever that switched them off for the other two to continue on.

After that stretch, the hall opened out into a larger room, not quite as big as the one they set up camp at, but still larger than what they had been dealing with. The floor was lined with Nord caskets, built of sturdy iron and likely containing the dead that had long been buried there. The walls held more of the ancient Nord dead, more open as they laid where they had been for centuries or more. Daimus coughed loudly as he stepped into the room, although the sound was cut short as he witnessed what else the room held.

"Azura take me, that's... Stalhrim..." he whispered to himself, staring at at least four deposits sizable enough to provide him with a decent chunk or two. Grinning widely, Daimus felt his hand slide down to where his pickaxe hung next to his sword.

Snowfall followed Daimus, and arrow at the ready, and eyes on the dead nord bodies that littered the room, much as she expected. She flinched internally as she heard Daimus' cough echo in the silence of the room. She could not speak, as the words for the Ice Form shout danced at the edge of her tongue, and her mind was alert to her surroundings.

It was then that the sound of hardened bones, now moving, and the cracking of leathered skin, echoed in the room. A slight sense of foreboding and death, flooding across the three adventurers in the room. The draugr had been awakened, no doubt from some old curse that had been broken by their presence in the room.

And now the Elves were in for a fight for their lives...

[Imperial1917]

Having made it through the first level unaccosted, Arayna frowned when she heard the assignment of teams. She was to be stuck with the fool who quite clearly despised everything about her people. Ironically, that was almost something they had in common, though the Mage tended to be more of an equal opportunity hater of others rather than just one particular group.

She eyed the man coldly as she moved past, not liking having his naked blade at her back one bit. "Take care where you swing that sword, Knight, if I must perish down here I'd rather perish at the hands of the enemies I expect to find and not one that I came with." She didn't trust him, and wasn't about to hide that fact. Her thrall floated past as well, following close behind its master as she cast her own candlelight spell and moved with Miri further down into the gloom.

Isus returned the icy look with one of his own. Mutual distrust, eh? The Captain was either more the fool than Isus took him for, or else a mastermind hoping that his First Mate and Isus would be able to rid him of this troublesome Mer. That would be a welcome relief. Nevertheless, the situation was probably the former than the latter.

Casting one baleful, but hidden by shadow, look at the rest of the expedition, he followed the flame thrall through the door, shutting it behind him. It was going to be a long way down the steep steps to the fourth floor and Isus had to be sure not to 'slip' and put his blade through something unfortunate enough to be in its way.

It was a long journey down the musty smelling staircase and every so often Arayna would glance over her shoulder, seemingly to see her minion but more so to make sure Isus wasn't about to run her through, though she doubted that he would be able to take her by surprise with the flame thrall between them. Once they finally reached the bottom, the staircase opened into a large room that appeared to be illuminated by patches of sunlight that filtered in from cracks in the ceiling high above them.

The light from above rained down onto clusters of various plants growing along the floor. It seemed strange to see such life still thriving in a place such as this. Miri and Arayna proceeded forward cautiously, the Mage pausing just long enough to cast a detect dead spell before advancing. "I cannot say there are no traps here, but I do not sense any drauger near us yet. Keep your eyes sharp." Spying a chest in the corner, she stepped ever so cautiously over to it and began to examine it for any trap triggers that might be sprung when opened.

As they proceeded down the staircase, Isus noticed that the Mer kept glancing back. If she thought that Isus could not tell it was to watch him, she was all the more a fool. Conjurers did not just lose track of their creations. All the better for her she did, though, as Isus could probably have kicked the creature into her and set her on fire, though she probably figured it was some sort of protection from his blade.

The landing they came to was little more than a waiting room, but beyond the grill door was a lust garden. Several, if Isus decided to divide them by the rooms they were in. Undoubtedly each contained their own kind of monsters. Isus could see many webs crawling up the sides of the area, up to tiny holes that were somehow letting in bright light. Probably mirror networks from the surface. In the distance, he could hear a waterfall.

The Mer muttered something about traps and drauger. She probably cast the Detect Dead spell Isus sensed wrong though. In any case, it was time to get down to business.
Seeing no obvious signs of a trap, Arayna used the but of her staff to carefully open the chest's lid, letting it fall away with a heavy thump when the worn, rusty hinges gave way. The rolled up contents looked rather stark against their rotting wood background. Stooping, the mage retrieved one of the scrolls, unrolling it to inspect its secrets. After a quick glance, she gave an almost sinister looking smile and rolled it back up before retrieving the rest and stashing them away inside her pack. "A grand find for such a dismal place."

Turning her attention back to the others, she noticed Miri inspecting and even harvesting some of the plants that were growing in their little patches of sunlight. She was about to say something when she overheard the unmistakable sound of little claws scrabbling along the stone floor in the next room. Clutching her staff of ice spikes, she spared a quick glance at Isus and nodded. "Shall we proceed, Knight, and greet our gracious hosts?"

Isus watched the scene about him unhappily. The First Mate had let her alchemaic pride take over and was pulling up things here and there. The Mer had taken to looting like some pirate on their first raid. So it fell to Isus to watch their backs and lament the lack of a proper captain to complain to when the time came.

A sudden scrabble of claws in the distance served to put an end to such thoughts. The Mer, like a child caught with their hand in the candied Nirnroot jar turned about swiftly, clutching as if at their prize. Isus almost ignored her murmured question, simply shaking his head in reply. He raised his arm and fired a Magelight to stick above the door through which the sound was coming and then readied his Destruction spells, holding his blade aloft and taking a ready stance to meet the foe.

Behind him, he heard the First Mate prepare herself as well.

Arayna frowned at his stubborn refusal to utter so much as a curse to her in reply, this was going to prove to be a very, very long task. Shaking her head, she commanded her thrall to advance on the door as Isus's Mage light spell went up. There was just enough time for the Mage to make out the thin line of a trip-wire barely visible just outside the doorway near to where the knight stood before their vile, shrieking foes rushed forth.

As the skeever pack, seven strong, advanced on them she had no time to raise a warning before the first one darted for Isus and inadvertently triggered the trap. Summoning up her alteration magic, she quickly cast a telekinesis spell to pull him backward just as the the wall nearest to him showered the area where he had been standing in poison darts. The unlucky skeever that triggered the trap fell motionless seconds later.

Her thrall was already busy blasting at two with its fiery fury as Arayna focused the energy of her staff to skewer any of the oversized vermin that got too close with an ice spike.

Isus grounded his stance a moment before the enemy struck. A blur of fur and teeth blazed towards him at chest level. He shifted to the side, allowing it to strike the wall behind him. A shreak of pain followed soon after, as did the sound of snapping jaws as it rebounded. Kneeling, he thrust forward his hand and sent an icy whirlwind towards the door from which the enemy attacked.

The two skeevers being handled by the thrall fell in a charred and smoldering heap as Miri pushed her way forward with her blade, slashing and stabbing until she ran one clean through. As Miri advanced, Arayna cast an ice trap spell near her that flash-froze another skeever in place as it attempted to flank the the First Mate, giving Miri the opportunity to effortlessly remove the filthy rodent's head from its body with one fluid swing of her sword.

With all of the skeevers finally dispatched, Miri took the lead once more, stalking through the doorway. "Keep your eyes sharp, let's move!" Looking from their fallen foes and then to Isus, Arayna smirked. They may not have worked together as much as a team should, but she prevented the man from taking some damage due to the trap sprung by the first skeever. The fact that he would have to remember that a Mer helped him was compensation enough. Chuckling to herself, she followed the first mate through the door, thrall in tow as always.

Isus glared after the Mer. The repulsive creature undoubtedly thought that he found himself fortunate not to have been skewered by those darts. As if such tiny things could penetrate his armor or Wraithguard's shield. What's more, the Mer was the one responsible for the whole matter, after all! Had she not gone looting, the skeevers would probably not have come to investigate! She might think she knows her way around honor, but her kind knew nothing but the warped rituals of their kind.

A bump made him turn and he saw the First Mate saunter by, a grin on her face. Undoubtedly, she would be reporting this to that infernal captain of theirs. Isus figured that he should do something to 'repay' this debt soon, before the tale could spread. As the light of the thrall diminished in the distance, he reflected sourly that it would not be difficult. The fool Mer would likely be the one to get them killed. Shaking his head mirthlessly, he followed the First Mate through the open door.

The next room they entered into was larger than the first, but the light that filtered in seemed dimmer and large curtains of tattered white webs hung thick on the walls and covered much of the floor nearby. Here and there, cocoons of varying sizes dotted the place. Miri kept her blade at the ready and Arayna was ever watchful of the ceiling, free hand twitching, as they moved further into the area. They all knew what they would likely run into in a room looking like this, but up to now nothing had made an appearance.

Isus took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. A lesser man might have blanched. The air was thick with the kind of decay that should not have been possible in a place so dead. He looked around, a nimbus of frost coating his free hand. The walls were covered in thick webs and he studied them, searching for depressions. He did not think well of the clicking in the distance, nor the tapping of many limbs. An optimist might have been hopeful that it was just the sound of bones clinging together. He was very sure he would find many optimists' corpses ahead.

As Miri led them further in, Arayna cast a glance back to the knight. She couldn't keep the thought that he might try to end her and make it look like some unfortunate accident from her mind. He clearly had no love for her people, or Mer of any sort for that matter. It was something she soon planned on confronting him about. She cared not to be liked by the man, but if they were to share the confines of a ship for an unknown length of time she would demand respect. The elven Mage was even about to say something in that regard when Miri's sudden call to arms broke the silence.

Whirling, Arayna was aghast to see the nearest walls now crawling with frostbite spiders of varying sizes. They could've been fifteen or twenty strong, but their advance gave no time for counting. "What in Oblivion?!" The oversized arachnids had already dropped to the floor and were quickly crawling toward them as the Mage summoned her magic. She couldn't use her fire storm spell for this, not without harming her companions, so she summoned a wall of flames that burst into existence between their group and the enemy before blasting at the nearest spiders with an incineration spell.

She quickly dispatched seven with her fire magic and her thrall, who had crossed its master's fire line, was busy taking care of five more. Miri, ever the warrior, quickly dismembered and impaled the four that managed to make it through Arayna's wall of flames. As they fought, a greater threat looming overhead began its decent. Without warning, a giant frostbite spider dropped nearly on top of the Mage herself, knocking her off her feet.

She had little time to react to the enemy's strike. When the horrid thing reared backward to expose it's terrifying fangs, Arayna shouted at it, the power of her voice entrapping it in a fine layer of ice. It wasn't enough to stop the beast, but it gave the Mage just enough time to scramble to her feet and gain some distance before it broke loose and hissed in anger.

The Mer was getting suspicious. Isus could tell. Perhaps this one was not as thick-skulled as the others. She moved a good distance away from him, keeping close to her thrall. If she thought that the fire-demon would be any protection if it came down to crossing blades, she knew little of the Templar. That suited Isus just fine. Let her have her suspicions. They would avail her naught when the time came to the reckoning. Isus would see to it.

Still, she persisted in turning to speak to him. As was typical of her kind, she chose the wrong moment to do so.

From ahead came sound of clicking mandibles and many heavy feet beating in pattern. Suddenly, Frostbite Spiders charged into the room and the three were thrown into a desperate melee. The Mer put up a sheet of flame to hold them back and blasted many with firebolts. The First Mate cut down more in turn. Their efforts did not stop the spiders how emerged behind them from the path they came.

Isus was a whirlwind of death incarnate as he clove his way through the deepening ranks of the foe. The spiders’ clever trap quickly became undone as he twisted and turned, severing limbs and demolishing eyes. His blade became slick with their green-black blood as he drove back the ambush. The leaping monstrosities could do little to penetrate his armor, though it was not for lack of effort. His breastplate quickly became marred with small dents where their mandibles, never meant for this kind of warfare, had butted against it. His limb guards, save for the immortal Wraithguard, became mired by the foe more than once as they attempted to drag him down. All they received in turn for their trouble was a blade into their many eyes.

But Isus was not lost in the melee as some warriors became. No, that time had long passed. As he pressed further into the battle, he saw from the corner of his eye the contest of his companions. Both held out remarkably well, but Isus knew that it could not last. Not for the Mer anyways. She brought down those who charged directly sure enough, but did not account for others. Sure enough, one had dropped right in front of her. Seeing this, Isus stabbed one of the smaller of the foul creatures that had bitten into his shinguard, hefted its dead weight with one hand, and tossed it at the spider advancing on the Mer. The dead creature crashed into its larger cousin’s side, knocking it right into a wall. Not exactly a chivalrous save, but the Mer could hardly complain.

Returning his full attention to the door, Isus saw that the spiders had given up a direct assault on him from the doorway. They could get through, yes, but they could not bring him low from that angle. Many of their number were now scrambling up the sides of the room, riding the walls. The flow of spiders from the doors had dimmed, but now the companions were completely surrounded from above.

Once Isus struck the largest of the spiders aside with the corpse of its dead cousin, Arayna seized the moment and began bombarding the beast with double incineration spells, intent on seeing the fowl creature burnt alive. The giant spider gave a shrill shriek as the flames enveloped it. With limbs flailing, it rushed the Mer a final time, but Arayna danced backward, now making sure to keep one eye on the ceiling. Isus had paid his debt when he could've easily let the spider overtake her, it wasn't a ringing endorsement for the man, but at least it was a start. With one final dual-blast, the giant beast collapsed in a smoldering heap.

With little time to savor the victory, she turned her attentions to the spiders now looming above. They began to spit their foul poison at the adventurers, Miri was dodging the vial liquid already and cursing them. With her expression darkening, Arayna set her aim high, commanding her thrall to follow suit. With shocking precision, they both began blasting the smaller cowardly creatures in unison, the Mage giving a dark laugh as their burnt corpses began raining down around them. Pausing just long enough to cast a conjuration spell, she quickly raised one of the closest corpses back to life and sent it back up the wall to distract the ones that remained while she took aim at their lives.

The battle took many more minutes. A lesser warrior might have thought it hours, but Isus knew better. Eventually, the last feeble survivors of the frostbite spiders scuttled away, many on less limbs than they had started with. They mounted the walls, disappearing into impossibly small holes and shadows, preventing pursuit. The ground was dyed with gore and bodies.

The three companions still stood, though not without wear. Isus was cut in several places, bleeding from skin torn from impact or cut by pincers. He shook his head, murmuring an oath, a prayer, and an incantation to ward off poisons all in one breath, under his breath. Several parts of his exposed skin were partially turned to putty by the acidic qualities of the enemy projectiles. The armor itself was dented in several places and somewhat melted in others, though the damage would not stay. Wraithguard shone brightly, almost malignantly, as its ancient shielding magic cycled down. He looked at his sword. It was pock-marked and slick with blood. A whetstone could only do so much. He would have to replace it before long if such battles kept up.

He turned to his companions. The First Mate was in a similar condition and had shed some of her leather armor where the poison had melted it. She too was cut and bruised, but would live. He nodded at her and she smiled back. The Mer, he was displeased to see, was still standing. The flame thrall stood docile behind her. Her laughter during the battle had not surprised him; many warriors took enjoyment from bloodshed. However, her sorcery made the implications less pleasant.

The broken corpses of spiders lay all around. They were dismembered and burned and weeped vile odors. Their webs, strong as steel they might be, had retreated up the walls several meters from the flames. Little bits of charred web still drifted down like the sparks of a torch. It gave light to the ceiling, revealing sacks of their victims; skeevers mostly, but also humanoid creatures which Isus could not make out.

The fires had also burned away a portion of web revealing a door at the far end of the room from which they came. The First Mate was already walking towards it, nodding to the Mer in passing. What lay on the other side, Isus was certain would be no more pleasant. Still, this place was done for; there was nothing left to take unless they wanted to delve into the web sacs. And that was something that Isus was not here to do.