The Elder Scrolls RP: Rebirth (IC)

[Zemkal]

Boran Marratto hid amongst the shadows of the Blue Castle in Solitude, waiting for a guard to pass, his torch faintly glowing in the dark. Boran cast a spell of minor invisibility over himself, then began to push through the back alleys. Once he reached the walls surrounding the grounds, he traced a line along them, counting the stones along the wall, until he reached the two hundreth one in the sixteenth row. He pushed in on this, and a small crevasd opened. He ducked inside, only to be met by a guard staring him in the face. The guard began to yell a warning, but an random arrow peirced his skull.

Boran looked up to see the shadow of Halt Do'urdan above the castle wall. Boran smiled in the shadows, nodded back, and dragged the guard back through the wall. He then moved into the courtyard slowly, inhancing his invisibilty spell. As he reached the cellar, a figure dropped beside him. Boran drew his Ebony blade, preparing for battle.

"A bit jumpy, aren't we?". Halt said, not even a a flicker of a smile on his face.

Boran opened the door, entering the dark stairway. "Still not happy about this situation, I take it?"

Halt shrugged. "No, I understand why your doing it. This artifact can help control Babbettes bloodlust, I get why your doing it. I just don't like that you kept it such a secret."

Boran nodded. "I should've trusted you." Boran agreed, moving into the dank basement. "In my
line of work, that is a hard thing to do."

"Oh, don't feed me that bullshit." Halt said, tracing along the walls for a sign. "You need to learn to trust your friends. Maybe not me, specifically, since I joined you all a bit late. But the rest of the group, for sure."

Boran merely nodded, mulling this over as Halt pulled a lever disguised as an unlit torch. A bookcase shuffled to the side...

And an entire platoon of armed guards waited on the other side.

"Ah, crap...". Boran muttered as he drew his blade.

"We should have just stormed the damn place!" Halt said in annoyance, going vack to back with Boran as thirty guards flooded the basement, lighting torches as they entered.

"Surrender now, or face your death." Said a heavily muscled Redguard brute, as they were encircled.

Boran pulled a small pellet from his gauntlet. "When I say go, we go." He muttered to Halt.

"No. You get into the Pelagious wing, get that thing, and get back here, quickly.". Halt said, taking the pellet and throwing it too the ground. The room filled with smoke, and Boran pushed his way past the guards, hesitating as he heard the clash of steel swords swinging. Boran wanted to save him, but...

Boran shook it off. He wasn't far now, and Halt could hold them off. Boran sprimted into the cobwebbed filled Pelagius wing. His head began to feel fuzzy, but he pusjed it aside as adrenaline.

He could hear the sounds of more troops rushing from above, but his mind was flooding with a semse of daze. Boran reached the chest, and fell to his knees, shaking this feeling of helplessness for his head, as he broke lockpick after lockpick on the chest. Something was wrong he couldn't focus...

But finally, Boran broke the lock, and opened the chest....

Only to find it empty.

Before Boran could yell in frustation, or even react, he fell limp to the floor, his world falling out from under him.

(OOC, sign ups: viewtopic.php?f=25&t=184068. )

(Catch up on the original: viewtopic.php?f=21&t=154354. )

[Facist-Germania]

Battlehorn

A man, seemingly a drunkard, clad in his white robes with a strange metal cylinder on his back sat lonely on a stool. He was surrounded by empty mugs, some still half full with mead, simply thrown to the ground. His face covered, he yelled.

"Hey... one more round ye' righteous bar-keep"

The bar-keep, currently cleaning some mugs, replies -

"No no no buddy, enough for you"

The robed figure sits up, after catching his wobbly balance, he slurs

"I said... get me some mead boy... please?"

The bar-keep points at the mysterious man and yells

"No intelligent being would get you any more mead, not in the right mind!?"

The robed figure stares at the bar-keep in an offended manner says

"Well... I... you should... oh forget it..."

The robed man turns his back and starts to walk away when the bar-keep looks up and says under his breath

"By the nine, damned drunkards always taken' my business.."

The man stops in his tracks and turns around, mumbles something not even he can understand, and makes a slight forward motion towards the bar-keep. The poor bar-keep is thrown backwards into the wall and is knocked unconscious as things fly off the shelves and in some cases, the shelves go flying as well. The robed man turns, surprised, and continues to walk as if nothing ever happened. Then a woman walks in an exclaims

"Icarus!... did you do this!?...

The robed man looks at the lady and says

"I don't know Allysandra? did I?... heh heh heh..."

[Moon Cows]

Fianna Liric,
Mount Kilkreath, Haafingar Hold,
Skyrim

Fianna Liric sat, head down, underneath the Statue to Meridia on Mount Kilkreath. She was a day's walk from Solitude. Her blue hood draped over her head, dark brown hair tucked back, the occasional pesky strand peaking over her face. She needed to be consoled, she needed a place to pray to her patron. She had prayed to Mara, Kynareth, Arkay, Dibella and Akatosh, as well as Azura, Meridia and Hircine. To witches like her, the Aedra -- the gods, the benevolent and powerful spirits that ruled over Nirn -- and the Daedric Princes -- less benevolent, and she only worshiped few -- could be worshiped together. It was taboo, to many, but so was witchcraft. She considered herself a witch of Meridia. Her past had led her to being a lowly, lonely witch that helped her neighbors, to a powerful witch that cohorts with Hagravens. And now she was a priestess.

Witchcraft was complicated. Fianna was complicated. Do I deserve this? she asked herself. It seemed she was back at square one again, lonely and poor. Her magic had grown considerably. She was now a master of Conjuration magic, and was expert in the fire branch of Destruction, which she favored. Adept in Alteration, Restoration, and Illusion. Quite the alchemist and healer, quite the conjurer. She was a now a witch that could rival great mages, and she hadn't even given up her humanity as a Hagraven like some witches did. She had done this on her own.

Well, not entirely. She had her Divine influence, her patron Meridia came to mind as she gazed over Dawnbreaker. It was the sword of holiness, forged to combat undead and enchanted by Meridia herself. It glew dimly in the night under Meridia's statue. The sword lay by her side on top of the caved-in temple.

Fianna also had guidance from friends. When she first began her journey, she met many. Benyamin, Aldus, Boran, Aladur, Babette, to name a few. And when they had parted ways, Fianna had met other friends . . even making something of a witch coven of Meridia with the females, and she had a friendship with the two males. But they were all gone now . . . all of them, except Aranalda and Kar. Two of the witches that had shared the majority of her journey. Her best friends. They stood at the bottom of the temple, waiting for Fianna.

Aranalda was a tall, imposing Altmer of white hair and gold eyes, with similarly colored skin. She was regal and majestic, with a bit of an attitude. A master of Destruction magic (and some Conjuration), she had trained with the Hagravens Melka and late Petra for nearly fifty years. Her youth had remained in that time, as elves tended to salvage, and she was quite pretty. She too wore a long blue robe with a hood on it, though her high cheekbones and pronounced features were still visible.

Next to Aranalda was Kar, a pretty young Nord girl that had only been a witch for a few years. She grew up in the Reach, surrounded by Reachmen Bretons that could cast spells, even a few witches of the Forsworn, of Hagravens. Her parents hated magic, especially witches, but she pursued it anyway. She was a master of Restoration and a great Alterer, though she knew a bit of frost Destruction and Illusion. Fianna had been teaching her Alchemy since they had been in Dawnstar, and she was quite the natural.

The undead had killed the rest of the Coven along with their two male guards. An Altmer man, two Dunmer women, an Orc man, and an Imperial woman. The three women had been tortured, though the two guards of the Coven were killed instantly, of no use. The witches (all six of them) had been tortured by a Necromancer that lived in the barrow they were trying to clear of undead. He despised them for worshiping Meridia, the Lady of Light, the one who hates necromancy. Aranalda killed him on the second day, but not before half of the Coven was dead, along with the males that had worshiped with them.

Now, Fianna was looking for a sign from Meridia. What should they do next? Why had they been brought to Haafingar? Were they to go to Solitude?

"Fianna," whispered Kar, who had quietly arrived behind her. She put an arm around the Breton, who was on the verge of tears. "Did Meridia tell you anything?"

Fianna did nothing but shake her head. "Come on, dear. We can go into the city -- I've always wanted to go to Solitude," The Nord said. Fianna could do nothing but agree. Kar was always so level-headed.

"Truly, Kar," Aranalda said as the two women walked down from the statue. "You'll love Solitude. Such a grand city."

And they did. They gathered their things and set off for Solitude, hoping to rest in the inn.

[Spetznaz Assault Teams]

Benyamin Do'urden

Benyamin grimaced as he brought the sword down in a brutal arc, cleaving the target in two. He spun, twisting, thrusting, his sword slicing through the midriff of the straw target, spilling hay onto the ground. The Assassin never stopped moving, his sword moving in an impenetrable blocking pattern that gave the appearance that steel had gained life.

~I cut too~ Came the whisper into Benyamin's head. His concentration broken, the sword faltered, and the blade slammed against a rock on the ground. Wincing, Benyamin inspected the edge for dents.

~And you are dead~ Do'urden glared at the sky, as he was unable to glare at the black metal that now inhabited his body. He brought it forth into the palm of his hand as he sheathed his sword, the steel gleaming once in the light of day before disappearing back into the sheath. Benyamin inspected the Ka'kari, for that was what it was called. It didn't look like much. Just a black hunk of metal. But if one looked closer, one could see the gleam in it's center. The light seemed to vanish as it hit the Ka'kari, being sucked into it much as water was sucked into a drain pipe. All that light reappeared in the center of the metal, gleaming with the light of a dying star.

You distracted me Benyamin "said" to the Ka'kari. It wasn't speaking in the sense of Benyamin's lips moving and forming words, but neither was it a flow of conscious thought. Only what Benyamin wanted to say to the Ka'kari did it hear, or so he thought. There were times when Benyamin was less sure, as thought the Ka'kari read him like an open book.

~And what is the jeer of a foe in battle?~
Less irksome than your endless babble.
~How old are you?~
Thirty four.
~How old am I?~
A few centuries.
~Funny. I'm older than Skyrim itself.~
Your point?
~You are like a child to me. So shut up before I send you to bed early with no supper.~
Hilarious.
~That's it! Off with you!~

The Assassin sighed and severed the mental conversation. He'd been practicing with the damn thing for the better part of a year, but had never quite managed to fight with it as well as he should have. Benyamin grimaced, and pulled out his longbow and quiver of arrows. Starting a hundred yards down the clearing, ten targets of various sizes and shapes were arrayed. They ended two hundred yards away, with a target the size of a man's head. Benyamin placed ten arrows in the dirt in front of him. The Assassin took a deep breath, and released it. It was at that moment he entered a new clarity of thought. The clarity that allowed the kind of marksmanship he held himself to. Benyamin stood stock still for a moment, so still not even his chest rose or fell with his breath in the clear air.

Then, seemingly in the blink of an eye, Benyamin exploded into motion. His left hand dipped, grasping the shaft of an arrow. In the same movement, his right hand brought the longbow to bear. Benyamin placed the arrow on the string, and pulled back so his thumb was touching the corner of his mouth, then let go, the arrow snapping in it's release from the bowstring. Without looking after it, Benyamin's hand dipped again and grabbed the second arrow, repeating the procedure. So quick was his movements that Benyamin was able to watch all ten arrows in flight before the first had impacted on the closest target. In rapid succession, all ten arrows slammed into the target's centers.

Benyamin grinned and placed another ten arrows on the ground.

[SaintB]

Icarus and his companions had been Romuel's personal guests at Battlehorn for several days now, he couldn't remember how many exactly as the days all ran together for him recently. A second, and then a third dunmer were found dead in the same manner as the first, strangled and then mangled with no witnesses to the crime. He had as many guards as could be spared patrolling the tent city and had even joined the patrols himself several times a day; even venturing into the tent city by himself to make inquiries but none of the answers lead anywhere. The second victim was another young female, but the third was a male which thwarted any of the theories that had been created about a serial rapist killing his victims.

If that wasn't enough his guests were a constant problem for him now; he could not build any kind of report with them. They had a grudge against the Empire and that included him regardless of how he eventually allowed them to carry their weapons again, and even secretly supplied cow's blood for the vampire girl Babbette. Now he had to arrest and detain someone who he almost considered a friend, a man he owed his education in restoration magic too. With two of the old Bravil guards he began combing the tent city for Icarus. He was drunk and disorderly, which wouldn't warrant any attention at all honestly - there were lots of drunks around with things being so hard and most of them were a little disorderly; the worst ones were just put in a stock by the watchmen until they sobered up and calmed down but Icarus had assaulted and nearly killed a bartender using magic.

At first he couldn't believe it was Icarus; when he had met him Icarus had been an old man, the archmage of the wizard's college of Winterhold. Romuel had been part of a band of soldiers sent to protect important dwarven artifacts being shipped from the Imperial Palace to the college (he later discovered they were parts to some kind of machine that predicted the movement of entire worlds: he didn't even know worlds moved!). While there he had shown an interest in healing magic and was granted the privilege of studying for a short time with no tuition as a thank you for bringing the pieces and Icarus had even been one of his teachers. If he hadn't have told Romuel about his time at the college he would never have let him stay at Battlehorn Castle.

Now Icarus looked younger than Romuel did; but a man dressed in Archmage's robes and was of young age was not precisely difficult to spot. He wasn't far from the 'tavern' either, he stood in the dusty street arguing with the woman he came with... what was her name? Allysandra he recalled, she seemed to be the cause of some dispute between the archer Benyamin and the male High Elf who's name he could not currently recall. Romuel stopped a few feet away and cleared his throat, his baritone voice tuned just loud enough to carry over the argument, "Aerly Icarus, Archmage of Winterhold; you are charged with assault via deadly magics upon a citizen of the Empire and I have no choice but to detain you pending a trial. Surrender yourself to my authority and there will be no need for any kind of violence or bloodshed."

Romuel's arms were crossed, his hands sat at about the level of his navel in a non-threatening posture; the guards with him were instructed to keep their hands at their sides unless trouble happened, "Madame Allysandra, if you would be kind enough to assist me in escorting this man to his quarters until he can clear his head for a proper hearing I would be most grateful."

[Facist-Germania]

(OOC: Icarus in prison? Mwahahaha... Sure!...)

Aerly "Icarus" Caelari,
Battlehorn,
The Aether Hand,

Icarus faintly heard someone speaking to him through his drunken stupor. He said something about "surrendering to his authority" and another along the lines of "You have a pending trial". He didn't really know, nor did he care. So he decided to play it off smoothly. As smooth as old wizard under the influence can be. Icarus dropped to his knees sarcastically and shielded himself with his hands while saying in a voice that he was forcefully making silly.

"oh no, your going to detain me? My worst nightmare has come true!...."

He turned to Allysandra and whispered

"Don't let them take me... your my only hope..."

He then stood up and walked toward Romuel while giggling, he pulled the silver cylinder from his back and held it towards the menacing looking Lord pommel first. Allysandra shook her head at Icarus and laughed and said

"I hope this little bit of time behind some bars helps you sober up!"

She then walked toward Romuel and shyly spoke

"I will gladly accompany you to take this fool to.. wherever you are taking him!"

She leaned in and whispered into his ear

"Although.. keep watch on him... bars can't hold him back, if he acts like they do, he is toying with you. I've seen what he can do, it is... almost unimaginable..."

[SaintB]

(OOC: Prison? No - he's going to his room lol. Its not like the penalty for assault his huge; because he almost killed the guy its 80 gold or 8 days incarcerated; which would be cut short but whats going to happen anyway with the nether lich and et. all)

Romuel nodded toward Alysandra in way of thanks, "Thank you for the assistance, I'm simply taking him back to the keep and his room for now; until he sobers up. I came hoping a familiar person would be more likely to get him to comply."

Romuel took the cylinder proffered by Icarus in his left hand and the mage's wrist in his right, he tucked the object into his sword belt and wrapped the drunk wizard's arm around his shoulders, perhaps a little too trusting but he didn't believe Icarus would try to harm him: he motioned for the lady to do the same if she would oblige. "I know he is an archmage, and very powerful. I've seen him summon creatures I didn't know existed when I was in Winterhold, I wouldn't be surprised if he commanded magics most people didn't know about; but I have a duty to perform and I can't let fear of the unknown keep me from it..."

After more or less carrying the drunk wizard through the tent city and into the keep he would deposit him on the chair in the room he allowed Icarus to use; it was an interior room so it had no window and Romuel could put a simple ward on the door that would tell him if anyone went through or unlocked the door; he would also place a guard outside.

[Facist-Germania]

Aerly "Icarus" Caelari,
Battlehorn,
The Aether Hand,

Icarus was dropped off into the wooden chair that resided in his room graciously offered to him by none other than Romuel. He started to speak

"and... I'll take you to your room you pathe-"

His words were cut short by his sounds of slumber. He had fallen asleep.

Allysandra followed Romuel from a distance. She attempted to nervously walk behind him, unsure of whether he knew she was following him or not. When she was sure the battle hardened man had become aware of her presence, she stepped in next to him.

"So, what brought you to become the lord of what is becoming such a popular abode 'eh?"

[SaintB]

Romuel stopped walking and pondered a moment, "Well... fortune I suppose. Whether good or bad is open to interpretation at this point. At this time last year I was just another former soldier looking for work, I did some mercenary jobs - legit ones like protecting merchants and keeping deadra that came through the Oblivion Portals from destroying farms and such. I also did some adventuring but nothing much came of it. I was here in Chorrol looking to join the fighter's guild when I heard that Battlehorn was being besieged and that there was a sizable reward for any mercenaries who could help rescue the distressed hold so I joined a group of about 30 others and we came looking for money and glory. The short version is that in the ensuing battles the remaining resources of the castle's defenders dwindled to the point that all the other mercenaries either left or died."

Even the abridged version seemed a bit long, he wondered if she even actually cared and was just asking to be polite and make small talk.

"We finally fought off the last of the attackers but the Baron, Lord Kelvin was mortally wounded; as payment for my service he gave me the last thing he had in his possession... which was this castle and it's holdings; about a month later the Countess of Chorral recognized my claim as legitimate and named me baron. Along with the castle I also inherited 13,500 Septims worth of debts and land with almost no tenants to pay taxes. The people who have settled in the tent town here are all refugees from Bruma and the surrounding area; I'm doing what I can to oversee things and keep people safe and I'd be a liar if I didn't admit I hope that some of them decide to settle here permanently."

[Facist-Germania]

Allysandra Raen,
Battlehorn,
The Rogue Revolutionary,

She intently listened to his story, she had much interest on how this man came to such glory, and quite frankly. Fame. After he was done speaking she bowed her head and said nervously

"What an interesting tale you have there. I hope all goes well for you in the coming days. I too, unfortunately, am one of the Bruma refugees. However much I have taken a bit of hatred towards the Imperials, I have no hard feelings toward you."

She continued walking along him. Almost hiding her face. He had proved that not ALL Imperials were corrupted, murdering cowards.

"You are a brave man, and a valiant one at that. I'm sorry if anyone of the party I arrived with messes with anything they shouldn't, they are what I have found too be... a rather 'unusual' group of adventurers."

She chuckled under her breath and continued

"I on the other hand, am just a woman with certain goals, and the will to put them too the test."

[Zemkal]

Babbette,
Battlehorn, Cyrodiil,
Dovakhiin

Babbette eyed the drunken young Icarus with suspicion. He had been off as of late, and it surprised her that he would be an actual problem. She shrugged, and pulled the pendant her most recent encounter with the Gray haired bearded man of her dreams had produced. Standing outside the door, she squized the purple stone on the pendant, and disapeared from the mortal realm.

She now found herself in a brightly lit alley. She walked a few feet, passing an unusually sounding fork, and stopped for only a moment to look at the castle in the distance in this other realm. She wanted to explore, but the mad man from her dreams said he would take her on a tour one day, so she shrugged, and squeezed it again, reapearing on the other side of the door, in front of a completely passed out Icarus.

"Oi, wake up before I take some blood as penance."

[SaintB]

"Thank you lady for the compliments, but I don't believe I'm famous, at least not outside of Chorrol and I have no intention to become famous. This time next year I'm as like as not to be a wanderer without a single Septim to his name as I am a baron."

He shrugged; "I wish I had more time to converse but I must attend to business; it has however been pleasant lady Allysandra. I will leave you with this bit I have learned in my lifetime of travels - not all of the empire is corrupt and mired in politics as the Imperial City. Most of us, even those of us who are famous, are just trying their best to get by and leave in peace with our fellow men and mer." he inclined his head in her direction before heading toward his office and chamber; "I bid you a pleasant afternoon."

He hoped it would be as pleasant as was possible anyway; there was going to be a trial in the great hall before the sun came down and Romuel would be forced to pass judgment on Icarus, one of his guests. As it stood it was only a trial for assault but the man was in a bad way and it could change for better or worse. Something was wrong with Icarus but he had no idea of what, or if there was anything he could actually do.

(OOC: Alright, see you guys next sunday)

[Zemkal]

Boran found himself in a barren desert, the world shimmering around him. An old man stood over him, laughing maliciously.

"Boran Marratto, ah yer young friend has told me so much of you! It feels like...". He licked his lips. "Like we're old friends. Or enemies. Hey, we're frenemies!". He continued his evil laugh from there.

Borans eyes went wide. "Sheagorath! Peince of Madness!"

"Ah, I do so love when the mortals know who I am. Yer young Babbette has yet to figure this out."

Boran stood up. "What have you done with her, Daedra?". He bellowed, standing nose to nose with him, only backimg off when the Daedric Prince licked his nose.

After a chuckle, Sheagorath continued on. "I have done nothing but enlighyen her ta the madness around her! But, enough of that. Time is short. Or long in my case... But, ultimatley, you don't have the time do!". A cane materialized in his hand, and he began to balance it in his palm. "The thing you were after? Its gone! Gone?". His cane floated in mid air, as he scratched his head. "Well, technically speaking, something can't be gone if it never existed."

"Get to the point, Madman!" Boran barked, in annoyance.

"Yer lucky I wanna see ya die later, and not now.". He said venamously, before grabbing the cane again, and leaning on it. "Listen, I lured ya here ta tell ya, yer gonna die if ya keep on tryin' to protect the kid.".

Boran began to step forward, but Sheagorath laughed him away. "No, not by me! By one of them afventurin' fools yer so found of! Not Halt though. No, that one is dead. Good chap. Great Warrior! But dead."

"Thirty soldiers take down Halt? I doubt that.". Boran said in disbelief.


"Fine don't beleive me. Actually, thats pretty smart! Except that in this case its stupid. Look, I owe an ol' Daedra a favor for somethin' I did a long time ago. Three hundred years? Four? A Gazillian? Who knows! Point bein', that crafty lady has an interest in ya living."

Suddenly, the desert tundra went dark, and the sand turned to snow. "Ah, but we're outta time. Just remember, that shouting kid is gonna kill you. Tatty-bye!"

And with that, the snow shifted, and Boran fell back into the abyss.

[Facist-Germania]

Aerly "Icarus" Caelari,
Battlehorn,
The Aether Hand,

Icarus awoke from his, unsubstantial slumber disgruntled. He shot out of his seat, bent over backwards and eyes still have closed. He winced at his sleep intruder and declared his presence

"hmph.. who's there?..."

What his eyes saw finally formulated into actual thoughts

"Oh... its you!.. sorry little Babb!... Scared me a little bit!"

He casts a small spell he remembers from his days as a student at the College in Winterhold. It is used to remove the intoxicating effects of mead and ale. He waved his hand and a small blackish green transparent aura emanated from his fingers. He immediately snapped back into what one would call a 'normal' thought process. He held his fingers to his temples as he summoned a bit of frost to collect on his fingers because of the throbbing in his head.

"So Babbs, how have you been the past few days?"

[Zemkal]

Aerly "Icarus" Caelari,
Battlehorn,
The Aether Hand,

Icarus awoke from his, unsubstantial slumber disgruntled. He shot out of his seat, bent over backwards and eyes still have closed. He winced at his sleep intruder and declared his presence

"hmph.. who's there?..."

What his eyes saw finally formulated into actual thoughts

"Oh... its you!.. sorry little Babb!... Scared me a little bit!"

He casts a small spell he remembers from his days as a student at the College in Winterhold. It is used to remove the intoxicating effects of mead and ale. He waved his hand and a small blackish green transparent aura emanated from his fingers. He immediately snapped back into what one would call a 'normal' thought process. He held his fingers to his temples as he summoned a bit of frost to collect on his fingers because of the throbbing in his head.

"So Babbs, how have you been the past few days?"

Babbette chuckled at the question! "Oh, just great! Because cows blood is so delicious!". She said sarcastically. "Lucjliy I have other things to keep me busy. But, more importantly...". She looled at the now sobered up man, who was trying to heal his hangover with frost magic, "What in the Nine have you done to put yourself in this situation?". She asled, curiously.

[Facist-Germania]

Babbette chuckled at the question! "Oh, just great! Because cows blood is so delicious!". She said sarcastically. "Lucjliy I have other things to keep me busy. But, more importantly...". She looled at the now sobered up man, who was trying to heal his hangover with frost magic, "What in the Nine have you done to put yourself in this situation?". She asled, curiously.

Aerly "Icarus" Caelari,
Battlehorn,
The Aether Hand,

He looked at the little vampire, grinned and said

"Well, when someone consumes gratuitous amounts of alcoholic beverages, one becomes a little dazed. Confused, even. While I was a little influenced by the mead. I, well... someone didn't fulfill a request I made.... may have gotten magically thrown into wall and knocked unconscious.."

He stared at Babbette with a cheesy smile while shrugging his shoulders

[Zemkal]

Aerly "Icarus" Caelari,
Battlehorn,
The Aether Hand,

He looked at the little vampire, grinned and said

"Well, when someone consumes gratuitous amounts of alcoholic beverages, one becomes a little dazed. Confused, even. While I was a little influenced by the mead. I, well... someone didn't fulfill a request I made.... may have gotten magically thrown into wall and knocked unconscious.."

He stared at Babbette with a cheesy smile while shrugging his shoulders

Babbette rolled her eyes. "And here I thought you'd actually done something fun, like plucked out someones eyes and dropped them in your drink for flavor...". She headed for the door. "Well then, I might as well leave you to your hangover."

[Facist-Germania]

Aerly "Icarus" Caelari,
Battlehorn,
The Aether Hand,

Icarus laughed pulled a chair close enough to jump into. As he snapped his fingers and a book appeared in his hands. He crossed his legs and flipped to a page, but the looked at Babbette.

"Although, I must ask you a question my dear. What do you think of all this? Of Battlehorn? Of the return of Benyamin? Of our groups little "Effort" against what we shall call... a common enemy? Just curious."

[Moon Cows]

Fianna Liric,
The Winking Skeever
Solitude, Haafingar Hold,
Skyrim

"Mmm," it escaped Fianna's lips as soon as she took a bite, a small vocal expression of satisfaction. The chicken breast was extraordinary . . . at least for someone who had been living on stale bread and vegetables for months. This was the first time the three witches had been in an inn in a long time. Fianna took a sip of her wine, closed her eyes, and swore she could have fell asleep in the chair.

Kar sat next to her, in their spacious room on the second floor of the building. Fianna, Kar, and Aranalda had opted to eat in their room, rather than spend time in the tavern below. They could hear a bit of a raucous -- a bard singing, a few drunkards making noise, the soft clang of silverware and idle chatter. The Winking Skeever was obviously a very popular tavern and inn. It was quite nice, Fianna decided. If you could get past the name.

"The wine is exquisite," Fianna gushed, combing out her hair. Aranalda stood over her, putting their few possessions into a drawer. She looked at Fianna with disapproval.

"It's alright," Aranalda huffed, putting her sapphire amulet into the dresser. Fianna had never asked her about it, but it seemed to have sentimental value to the High Elf. She didn't press, though. That wasn't something the Breton did. "How do you like Solitude? You haven't seen much, but it's a quaint little place. I'd like to visit the market. Perhaps that shop, Radiant Raiment. An old Altmer man runs it. Quite a nice fellow . . ."

Kar lay asleep on one of the beds, breathing softly. She had let Fianna brush her blond hair before she fell asleep. To Fianna, Kar was something of a sister. "Solitude is lovely, Aranalda." Fianna said honestly, with a small yawn. She did enjoy the tall houses and shops, and the children that played in the streets. It was so regal, truly. And they weren't even in the wealthy district. "And we can explore it tomorrow. For now, I'm going to sleep. Good night. Meridia's blessings." She downed the last of her wine and daintily crawled into one of the beds, dozing off. Aranalda simply nodded, and blew out the candle.

[Terripin]

Battlehorn
Telindar watched the drunk man as he was arrested. It was an amusing sight even. He had nearly killed a man and still he was standing as if nothing had happened.
"The wonders of wine." he muttered to himself.
Walking by the long, open street which lead up to the keep of the castle he found a wall with no stalls surrounding it. Lying down with his head propped up against the wall he observed the still-busy street. It was a practice he had done since his childhood. Telindar had not yet found lodging for the night. The tents were too small and cramped.
He did not care at the moment though. He was busy musing over the smaller wonders of the world. The ones people could know and see if they simply stayed still and watched. For right then he was content with everything, almost everything.
Telindar smiled and watched through the evening into the night until he saw it was getting late. Finding a tent that was surprisingly still open according to a parchment he decided to take it. Taking at a blanket from his pack he dozed off to the sound of crickets.

[Zemkal]

Aerly "Icarus" Caelari,
Battlehorn,
The Aether Hand,

Icarus laughed pulled a chair close enough to jump into. As he snapped his fingers and a book appeared in his hands. He crossed his legs and flipped to a page, but the looked at Babbette.

"Although, I must ask you a question my dear. What do you think of all this? Of Battlehorn? Of the return of Benyamin? Of our groups little "Effort" against what we shall call... a common enemy? Just curious."

Babbette, sighing, sat in the corner, snapping her fingers and summoning her pet, Bane. "Benyamin being back is great. Never a dull moment with him. As for the rest..." She petted the painting Bane, then continued. "So, why even ask such a question? What has been up with you lately?"

[Facist-Germania]

Babbette, sighing, sat in the corner, snapping her fingers and summoning her pet, Bane. "Benyamin being back is great. Never a dull moment with him. As for the rest..." She petted the painting Bane, then continued. "So, why even ask such a question? What has been up with you lately?"

Aerly "Icarus" Caelari,
Battlehorn,
The Aether Hand,

Icarus grinned as he continued looking at his book. He flipped pages for a moment before he finally spoke again.

"Why not ask such a question. I believe once we truly understand what we are doing, when you fully and completely understand your opinions on the situations that surround you. Then, and only then, are you able to make the changes in your world that effect them."

[Zemkal]

Babbette sighed deeply. "For all I care. I'd just like to watch this world burn." And with that, she whistled to Bane, and disapeared.

[Facist-Germania]

Aerly "Icarus" Caelari,
Battlehorn,
The Aether Hand,

Icarus sunk into his chair as he thought intently on what the girl said, before finally returning to his book. The book was a collection of almost all of his arcane knowledge. Every spell he knew about was recorded in the book, along with the effects. He attempted to record all of the information on Babbette's thu'ums he could remember before retiring to an intense daydream.

[Spetznaz Assault Teams]

Benyamin Do'urden

Benyamin's sword dipped, slowly, until the point touched the ground. He was breathing hard, and it showed. He was clad in long flowing black pants, and a thin white shirt. Sweat gleamed on his skin and soaked his shirt. Benyamin sheathed the sword abruptly and gazed out over the target field. In the distance, the targets each had ten new holes in them. A hundred arrows shot, ninety nine bulls eyes made. Looking at the target, that though he couldn't see from here, knew had a hole off center, he winced.

An archer practices until he gets it right. You will practice until you never get it wrong. The voice of his master from long ago echoed in his mind. Benyamin sighed, shrugged, and slung both his longbow and quiver over his shoulder. His sword was sheathed on his hip, and now came the last part of his day's training. Benyamin stood at the edge of the trees and looked in. A few yards out he could faintly see the tracks of the animal he was to find today. This would test both Benyamin's tracking and silent movement skills. He had sneak up on, and then pat the flank of, a deer. Nature's most skittish forest animal.

The Assassin moved silently, almost ghost-like through the forest. To his left Solitude reared it's ugly head. To his right, the forest beckoned. Ahead of him, just through the trees, lay a deer. Benyamin grinned and moved off toward his left, getting just behind the wind. Now the deer's scent was being blown toward him, instead of the other way around. Benyamin moved forward stealthily, until he was right behind the deer. Lightning fast, he reached out and tapped it's flank. The deer, startled, bounded away in an instant.

Benyamin allowed a small smile to cross his face as he turned and made his way back to Solitude. He crossed the gates and took the street to his Inn, the Winking Skeever. Benyamin entered and flipped a gold coin to the innkeeper.

"Meat and Ale." He said quietly. The man bit the coin, nodded, and waved over a serving girl.