The Elder Scrolls: Lineage (IC)

[Imperialisium]

OOC/Sign-ups

http://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic.php?f=31&t=280935

And so it was fortold, in the Elder Scrolls, a time of madness would attempt to cover the world in darkness. War, plague, famine, chaos; the never ending cycle's of life eternal spread across the lands of Tamriel. But, in this time of legends hero's have a certain knack for arising to the call.-The Elder Scrolls.

The Fifth Era

The Fifth Era arose from the chaos of Fourth Era and the return of Dragons in that age. Legends of a Last Dragonborn came true and hero's arose and fell in the heat of battle. Alas, respite was short lived, for Tamriel has increasingly suffered under the toils of war, famine, and plague. The Tamrielic Empire is but a shadow of its former selves, the Imperial Legion a pale visage of its former glory. The current Emperor, Tiberius III, can only exert power in Cyrodiil, Western Morrowind across from Vvardenfell, and nominally over the Jarls of Skyrim under High Queen Sylmara.

The Empire however was not brought low just by war, but by internal rot and corruption. The Imperial Administration plagued by inept officials and heavy handed tactics have left the Empire a sick, rotting, ghastly corpse of its past might. Continuously locked in a game of political and military chess with the Aldmeri Dominion, however by this Age the two nations remain in an uneasy peace. With the Thalmor exhausted, but still carrying out their duty of rooting out Talos worshippers wherever they maybe found. However, even the Aldmeri Dominion is not as strong as it used to be, weakened by off and on wars with the Empire and other nations it sees fit to remain passive in these times.

Else ware Kingdoms have rose and fallen with the passage of the years, in the far North-West the Kingdom of Daggerfall under High King Emeric IV of the Bretons has arisen and is exerting its muscles, challenging High King Sylmara and the Skyrim Jarls to holding the Reach. While directly North-West the Kingdom of Hammerfell led by ex-Imperial official Marcus Julianus has become a reality with Marcus supporting a popular government of continuing the cooperation between Crowns and Forebears based out of Sentinel.

To the East the Black Marshes have been lost to the Empire since the Oblivion Crisis and the Argonians have been restored as the sovereign rulers in that region, much like in Elseweyr the Khajiit Kingdoms of Anequina and Pellitine have ceded from the Aldmeri Dominion to become sovereign once more.

Directly North of the Black Marshes Morrowind, with the giant island of Vvardenfell recovering from the devastation wrought by the eruption of Red Mountain. The Dunmer gradually returning to their ancestral lands and picking up the pieces, however they hold the Nords grateful for allowing them safe refuge on Solstheim during the Mountains eruption centuries earlier. Yet, the Dunmer's worries can easily been turned to their declining population, with many thinking like the Dwemer they will pass into the annals of history eventually.

The Blood Pact
Countryside of Cyrodiil

A young man could be seen resting up against a tree, occasionally looking up towards the starry sky and the wonders of the Heavens. All of their mystery, that even the greatest of mages seem to be unable to understand or faintly grasp. The secrets of Mundus and the world of Nirn, these bright orbs in the skies above Tamriel seem such a far away and yet so close you felt as if you might reach up, and grasp these gems in your grasp.

The twin moons rested in the night's sky, as if they eternally shadowed Nirn much like companions, a group of siblings one could metaphorically say. The young man, with his dirty brown hair and equally dirty, worn, and weathered face could only sign at these wonders. Yet, he was not alone.

carrying on the wind one might discern whispering, shadows, creeping and slithering in the night towards the man. Unnoticeable but entirely present, as if something that should not walk the mortal planes was indeed about. A form coalesced behind the young man, that of a young woman wearing all black, with a black hood that could seem to keep the utter darkness of the void huddled inside. With hair so black that light seemed to bend towards it, shades of faint blue much like the night sky present. Her eyes like gleaming crystals of blue, yet wrapped in unnatural energy, an eldritch aura was about her. She looked present and normal from afar, up close one would easily discern that the mortal realm was not her home and see was indeed, fundamentally out of place. She moved her left arm forward, the perfectly porcelain skin soft like smoothed ivory, immaculate finger nails like pearls softly grasped the young mans shoulder.

Province of Skyrim
Eastmarch Hold, in between Pagran Village and Dragon Wood

The rough, cobblestoned road wound through the landscape like a serpent goes through grass. Its thin, yet proportionate body threading along, occasionally a path may branch off or the road forks to some small hamlet or farm community. Yet in this stretch both sides were edged in forest, on the right side rising up along a mountainsides soft incline, jagged rocks protruding forth like the teeth of a slaughterfish. To the left a gentle slope descended into a valley dotted with lakes, hot springs and ruins from ages long past. The occasional howl of a wolf or the galloping stride of a deer adding to the tranquil wilderness. Just off the trail in a small blotch of level Earth a soft glow could be seen, the yellow and orange flames casting out the shadows of night like the Sun in the void.

Three horses were hitched to a nearby tree and a single tent that could fit three people was off to the rear of the little encampment. Three figures huddled near the fire, one sat on a log, a mountain of a man with a mane the color of fire. As if he sought to match the intensity of the flames with a fire equal to it hanging from his face. He munched on a spitted rabbit, the meat cooked well done and melting off the bone, his beaten tankard next to him quarter full of cheap ale.

Directly across from him, and in terms of build his exact opposite sat a young woman with a pretty face like those bards sing about in reference to maidens of legend. Her golden blonde hair hung to the middle of her back with her banks tied to the sides in braids like some Valkyrie of the gods. On closer examination one would see that her face was not one you might expect from a woman, her ears were gently pointed in a smooth fashion, not long but indeed pointed, her eyes of soft purple and green flowing together along the circles of the iris. Her pale, yet unblemished fair skin shown on her face, neck, hands and feet. Next to her sat an intricate golden cuirass of undoubtedly Mer construction. Her elegant bow and quiver rested up against her side as she stared into the flames. Her boots were off and set side by side next to her cuirass.

Perpendicular to them both and facing the road sat another young man, with hair the shade of a ravens wings and eyes of grey ice. His sking was like a mixture of ivory and ebony, not tan, but not perfectly pale either. As if he'd grown up in a warm and cold climate throughout is young life. His belt had been loosed to relax and a sword, sheathed in black rested on the ground. His grey armor was set up in the tent on what would could rightfully assume to be his blankets and pillow.

He idly ate from a wooden bowl of rough make, probably made it himself most likely, his wooden spoon showing the contents of beans mixed in with what looked like squirrel and carrots.

"Sure you don't want another bowl Else's," said the man with the black hair. He turned his head to face her and she looked up at him and replied in a kind voice, "No thanks Val, I'm full, if I eat any more I'll be bigger than Ragnar over there."

Both laughed and Ragnar looked at her with squinted eyes, he was not fat, far from it. His bulk came from the corded muscle one would acquire from a hard working life and the stock of the men from the North. He chuckled sarcastically to himself and continued munching on the rabbit being slowly reduced to bone and any morsel he couldn't gnaw off. The group was an odd trio to say the least; an Imperial, a Nord, and an Altmer all bundled into one party. One didn't see that to often these days and Ragnar still regarded the Mer maiden with some discretion in terms of trust.

The Imperial City
Imperial Palace
2 Days prior

A man wearing ornate robes and a gold badge of the Imperial symbol stood over a table with a motley assortment of other men and a few women. His brow was furrowed and stress could be seen on his tan face, his black hair had been cropped short just above the ears with sloped side-burns and no bangs. His dark opal colored eyes looked at map which spread the entire length and width of the table. It was a map of Tamriel, with numerous colored flags and various parcels of messages spread out on top of it.

"Another Orc raid on Stirk, the Imperial Navy fought them off without a problem. Sunk two of their ships." said a balding man in the livery of the Imperial Navy. Admiral Remilius, commander of the Imperial Navy, or what remained of it after so many years of budget cuts, war and fluctuating manpower. Remilius was a respectable man who cared for his soldiers and ships, making sure every Septim given to him was well spent, as he often didn't know what a new fiscal quarter could bring to his branch of the Empire.

"My Lord, the Fourth Legion in Solitude reports that Reachmen have begun probing raids as far North as Snow hark and the Patrols around Karthwasten have to be increasingly reinforced. The Jarl of Markarth has refused to send any more men other then to defend the town of Karthwasten itself and the bridges to Markarth." remarked a man in golden armor of the Imperial Legion and a wreath around his head. He was General Cornelius, embodiment of the Imperial Legion high command in the flesh. Cornelius, like Remilius was a soldiers favorite, having fought in battles alongside the lowest Legionnaire and won his laurels by virtue of this fact. But, he was now confined to pretty much a desk job, directing orders and translating the Emperor's and Elder Councils will into directives for other Legion officers to follow.

"Last time I checked the Fourth has just over 5,000 soldiers on its rolls." spoke the man people would recognize to be Tiberius III in the royal regalia, Emperor, and son of Emperors.

"Yes we do Emperor Tiberius, but General Martian can not hold all of Skyrim with the Reachmen increasingly active all along the Western third of that country. I recommend moving the Seventh Legion from Bruma up to reinforce the Fourth. The Seventh has 2,700 strong and would be more than enough to hold the Province." remarked Cornelius.

"What of the Village communities at the border? We have a truce with them but they could pose a decisive problem to our timetables, Especially since they refuse once more to pay all the proper taxes." Interjected Tiberius.

"The Seventh can deal with them along the way." assured Cornelius.

"Do it, we can hit two birds with one stone." smiled Tiberius.

Within the hour the marching orders had been drawn up by Cornelius personally and by carrier pidgeon was dispatched to Bruma, a city in the North of Cyrodiil and housing the Seventh Legion of Legate Seranus Lucanos.

Bruma

It was the dead of night in the Legion barracks in the Eastern Quarter of the city when the drum rolls sounded for assembly. Praefects bellowed orders and Quaestors ordered men into lines, the Auxilia force attached to the Legion, numbering 600 of its total fighting force also mustered in their own, separate ranks. The Legate of the Seventh, next to the Legionary standard showing the banner of the Legion portrayed proudly stood in the front of the amassing ranks, facing them, arms folded as he held his own private time piece. It was an expensive piece from master clockwork smiths in the Imperial City. He was measuring the time it took for his Legion to fully assemble, his expression blank as the seconds ticked by.

Legate Seranus Lucanos, from Kvatch, was a disciplined man and a good officer. He ran his fighting men and women hard and demanded much from them, but he rewarded those who worked hard as well. Giving exceptional personnel extra leave or extra food rations at meal times. As such he the respect or at the very least grudging respect of his men.

When fully assembled and dully satisfied as he cracked a smile and put his time piece away in his belt he pulled out a scroll. Unrolling it he began to bellow in an authoritative voice, "Legionnaires of the Seventh, by order of General Cornelius and Emperor Tiberius, we are to march North into Southern Skyrim in the assistance to General Martian and the aide of the Fourth Legion stationed in Solitude. First we will restore Imperial authority along the border villages in accordance with our second order as just said. We march at dawn! Dismissed!"

[Stormhound]

Barracks of Bruma

Amongst the Imperial soldiers in the assembly, Wolfram stood tall, dwarfing seversl of the other troops. He was a mirthful man in the barracks, always following orders punctually and diligently, while maintaining a good attitude. Always enjoying a ferocious duel, he put several of his fellow soldiers on guard, and more than a few Bruma Legionnaires had cuts and bruises to prove it.

This was his family. He trained with these men, lived with them, learned to put up with their individual flaws. The feeling was mutual. Several of these men, and their families, had formed a tight bond with him as well.

It amused him to think that he would soon visit his own, real family, with his brothers-in-arms. The thought of visiting the village where he had grown to the tender age of childhood, before being transported to Cyrodil to receive education and upbringing from a noble family, caused him to feel warm, as if he had eaten warm butter.

Home.

[Tel Vanni]

Morrowind

Xulcandra stood on the ramparts of Fort Firemoth and looked out over the sea. There wasn't much to see out there - just waves and clouds. There was no sign of the ship she was expecting.

In the distance, Xulcandra could see a single cliff racer. She rarely saw any this far from Vvardenfell. She wondered if she could hit it from here with the Ring of Endora, but decided against it. The ring would probably only enrage it on the first shot. "What a useless heirloom," she thought. "I couldn't get grandmother's Wizard Staff or the Robe of the Drake's Pride. Not even her Spy Hat. The Ring of Vampiric Bolts would have been nice. No, all I got was the signet ring. I could have bought more powerful attack rings in Balmora, when there was a Balmora."

Finally, a boat appeared on the horizon. It was not the merchant barge she was expecting, however. It was only a small rowboat. As it drew closer, she recognized it as the fisherman from the ruins of Hla Oad. He had one passenger, who was wearing a Telvanni cephalopod helm.

Xulcandra flew down to the docks to greet her visitor.

"Greetings, Lady Xulcandra," the visitor said, bowing while still seated in the boat. "I am Guardsman Elochiath, of Tel Vos. May I come ashore?"

Xulcandra waved the soldier to aproach. Almost as soon as the soldier had both feet on the dock, the fisherman cast off and returned to Hla Oad.

"I bring sad news," the soldier said. "Your aunt, Lady Ruethea, has died."

"She has been terminally ill since the third era. For her, death was a relief," Xulcandra replied.

"As you say." The soldier removed his pack and opened it. "I was entrusted to bring to you some of her personal effects. She wanted you to have these. It's mostly old papers."

Xulcandra looked over the books and scrolls. There were some spellbooks, one written in the hand of Neloth himself, but all apprentice level material. The scrolls were mostly maps and citations. There was a folded-up broadsheet, the last ever published in Ebonheart, with a story about her father's death. There were a few other books, but nothing spectacular. Somebody else must have gotten the good books.

Her eye moved on to the small jewel box the soldier held in his hand. "What is that?"

"I don't know," he said. "It's the only thing, other than books and papers, Lady Ruethea left you. Oh, this envelope goes with it."

Xulcandra opened the box. It contained a propylon index. She opened the envelope and found a note, in her aunt's handwriting. It said, "Find Telasero. If there is any luck left to our Great House, Telasero may hold enough treasures to rebuild your keep."

Xulcandra was not impressed. Telasero was buried beneath a million tons of ash. She couldn't afford the workers to dig her way through.

"Well, that's all there is. By your leave, I should be returning to Tel Vos."

Guardsman Elochiath bowed one more time, then twisted the ring on his left hand. Xulcandra instantly recognized the activation of a Recall spell as the soldier vanished.

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

Xulcandra sat in her library, her newly inherrited papers strewn around her, and stared at the Telesero propylon index. She assumed it was the key to Telasero, at least. It occurred to her that she hadn't actually verified the markings.

it took only a few minutes to look it up. Yes, this was definately the key to Telasero. Not that this did her any good. Telasero was buried long ago. All the other ancient keeps were likewise buried and the propylon chambers were doubtless destroyed. The circle was broken.

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

The ship Xulcandra was waiting for arrived that afternoon. At last, the work crew was here to seal up the underwater entrance.

Just last week, the guards had caught an Argonian thief in the mine. He was caught stealing a mining pick, but he confessed he was really looking for ebony. It was not the first time. Unless that door was sealed with something more permanent than boards and nails, it would not be the last time.

Xulcandra showed the workmen to the work area, then took the foreman aside.

"I have another project I need done. Come and look at this."

She led him into the grand vault under Firemoth.

"This room is far too big and in too good condition to be left unused, but there is no direct connection between here and the keep above. You can only get in here through the mine. Is there any way to dig a shaft for some stairs?"

The foreman took a quick look around the area. "I dont' see any reason why not, from what I can see here. But it's what's above that matters. I'll have to examine the foundation of the keep before I can say whether it can hold up with that big a hole through it."

"Can't you add support from down here," she asked?

"Not if you want to keep all this space," he replied. "Well, maybe we can line it up to the side, but that would mean twice as much digging to do. Plus, if the top of the shaft is outside the keep's walls, we have to build it up a bit, for protection."

"Well, draw up a plan and give me an estimate, will you?"

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

There was no way Xulcandra was going to afford the stairwell. She couldn't even afford to restore the SW tower, which had crumbled almost to the level of the ramparts. She could barely pay the crew to brick up the underwater entrance, unless she could talk them into accepting ebony chips.

Xulcandra pondered the situation over a bowl of marshmerrow. She hated marshmerrow, but nothing else would grow in the salty soil. It was this or fish. She ate way too much fish, but anything else had to be imported. She ate the marshmerrow anyway.

There was just one glimmer of hope. Telasero was buried, along with all the other old keeps, but Marandus was only partially buried. The upper levels were still above the ash. Maybe, if she were lucky, she could enter the propylon chamber. After that, if she could somehow get the propylon to work, she might be able to enter the propylon chamber of Telasero. Then, if she were even luckier, she might be able to get out of the chamber and enter the keep. Assuming, of course, that the propylon didn't fail in some spectacularly catastrophic way.

It was a lot of ifs, but it must be what Aunt Ruethea had in mind. What did Xulcandra have to loose? A crumbling keep in the middle of nowhere? This keep was more of an anchor than a home for her, anyway.

Then she remembered something she couldn't believe she had forgotten. Endora's Helm. Of all of her grandmother's artifacts, that helm was probably the most useful. A glass helm, similar in appearance to her own, but enchanted to protect the mind so completely that most spells to drain mental attributes would entirely fail to work. And the thief who stole the helm was thought to have been hiding out in Telasero at the time of the eruption.

Xulcandra had made up her mind. Tomorrow, she would fly to Vvardenfell, take the silt striders to the ruins of Balmora, then walk the rest of the way to Marandus. She would instruct her staff on what to do in her absence just before she left.

There shouldn't be any trouble along the way, except for maybe a cliff racer or two. She could bring down a cliff racer with two shots from the Ring of Endora - maybe three shots. Inside the ruins would be another matter, though. She decided to bring her glass dagger as well. And perhaps a shield. And she'd need her Night Eye helm. Her spells would take care of the rest.

Xulcandra started packing her gear. She packed enough money for the silt strider and a few coins extra. She would use her last Potion of Rising Force to get to shore, so she would still have all her magicka in case of trouble. She would need her notes on the propylons, as well as the index. She considered packing a block of ebony, but it would just be dead weight. After stuffing in a few days worth of marshmerrow, there was just enough room left in the pack for a few empty burlap sacks and a couple of maps.

Satisfied, Xulcandra cast her Mark and went to bed.

[Phalnia]

Abecean Sea

The merchant ship rocked back and forth on the rough seas. Swells washed across the seas knocking the unprepared off of their feet. Fortunately, the crew was experienced and able. They scurried about the deck securing lines and making adjustments as they were barked at them. However, there was one figure that seemed to take no heed to the storm, in fact she seemed to enjoy it. Her tail flicked up and down as the waves crashed. Her tongue flicked out ever so quickly tasting the damp air. In one hand she held a staff, withered and ancient. The other hand was placed firmly on her hip, fingers laced through a belt. The belt like the rest of her robes are leather, in fact they resemble a common pattern on the skin of Argonians, but no one has asked about it, nor are they likely to.

The bow of the ship cut through the violent waters bound for the East. As quickly as she had appeared on deck the Argonian, slipped back below. There she was greeted by he companions, Aafiyah the Redguard and Alexander the Breton. Alexander was hunched over the table busily studying a map of Cyrodiil and plotting a course, he gave a quick and courteous greeting. Meanwhile, Aafiyah was sitting on a stool in the corner, his head buried in bucket. He offered no greeting except for his muffled vomiting.

"Aafiyah, the key to a calm stomach is the matching of the rhythm. You should try to sync yourself with the sea." Eleedi-Ja demonstrated, swaying the boat. Aafiyah could only respond with more sounds of regurgitation. "Very well, you will never enjoy this voyage if you continue like that." The old woman turned to Alexander instead. "Have you finished with the map? Do you know where we are headed?"

"Straightening up Alexander turned his head. "Yes, I have. Come take a look." The Argonian took a few steps and peered down at the map. Alexander began tracing the path with his finger. "We will dock here in Anvil. From there we will to the Imperial City passing through Kvatch and Skingrad along the way. Once in the City we can pick up work as mercenaries." The Breton turned awaiting Elledi-Ja's answer.

"That is your plan? That is what you want to do with your life? You left your noble birth in Wayrest to become a hired sword?" Asked the Argonian, her tone neither accepting nor negative.

"I left Wayrest to see the world for myself. I couldn't stand staying there and hearing of great deeds yet being unable to perform any of my own."

"Very well. I simply needed to hear you say it. I approve of this plan. And I'm sure if our associate could speak he would as well."

[The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness]

Pale Pass, Vexas Deconus

Vexas Deconus, self-styled Lady of Fort Frostbreed, looked downwards from atop the Jerall Mountain's peaks, to Pale Pass, and the ruins that lay within, remembering of the ancient battle that had once taken place there. The howling winds chilled her and two companions, and she fastened her fur cloak over her armor. Fort Frostbreed stood largely empty at its current situation, and Vexas had decided to send messengers to taverns, hoping to find people looking for a job - preferably miners. One of her companions, a scrawny cook, would go towards Bruma, while the other, one of the miners, would go further into Cyrodiil, to the Imperial City. Vexas had come with them herself to get out of the slur of daily life and, more importantly, hope to catch a glimpse of the Legion. There had been word of a Legion assembling in County Bruma, and her instinct told her they'd move towards Skyrim. While she didn't fear them much - if they'd come asking for tax, they could easily pay -, she still felt quite nervous. After all, the Empire was more corrupt than ever, and with a Legion so far from home, there'd be bound to have legionaires run intro trouble. And well, the Fort had recently had enough trouble - the Reachmen were stirring up from their lairs, causing trouble once again.
"Well, you both know what to do. Get back as fast as you can, we need miners and people that are able to fight, especially with the current situation. You both know the way?"
Both of the men gave a nod to confirm once again that they were able to follow the signs on the roads.
"Good, let's go."
As the two messengers walked away, Vexas turned around, starting the long walk back towards Fort Frostbreed, hoping to find the place's warm hearthfire's comfort before nightfall.

[Tel Vanni]

Morrowind

It was raining on the Bitter Coast. Xulcandra needed something to do during the trip. It wasn't raining very hard, but she didn't want to take her notes out of her pack and let them get wet.

There was one other passenger - an old Nord who'd had a bit much to drink. The Nord was wearing his fur helm down over his eyes. He was also snoring. His mead bottle rolled back and forth across the floor of the howda, each time leaving a faint arc of spilled mead which immediately washed away in the rain.

Xulcandra concentrated on the weave of magicka around her, then clenched her fist. A dagger formed in her grip.

The Nord woke up, startled by the sound of the spell, but by the time he could straighten out his helm, Xulcandra's hand was empty.

"Wa? What was that?" the Nord exclaimed.

"What was what?" Xulcandra summoned the dagger again. The Nord reached for his sword, but Xulcandra opened her hand and the dagger immediately vanished.

The Nord turned his head and looked back. "What did you see, smokey?"

"Who is Smokey?" Xulcandra summoned the daggeer again, and immediately released it.

"You're Smokey. All black Elves are Smokey if you don't know their names." He looked around again. "I don't see anything. Why are you doing that with the knife?"

"What, this?" Xulcandra clenched her fist, and the dagger appeared again.

"Yeah, that. Cut that out. It's annoying."

Xulcandra continued to conjure the dagger over and over and over. "Just practicing. It's an exercise. You run around and lift big things to build your strength and endurance. I practice simple spells to build up my magical power."

Xulcandra continued to practice her conjuration.

"It's still annoying, Smokey," the Nord said.

"So is calling me 'Smokey,' Snowman."

[Vortukia]

The Pact Bound by Blood

Alexander was in the midst of hunting, he was perched behind a rock and had his crossbow aimed right at the deer, his finger covering the trigger, ready to end the life of the dear if he so pleased. He smirked a bit ready to take the kill.

He took the shot and the mechanisms turned and the bolt came flying out at high speeds aimed right at the dear who turned his head at the new sound. But at that time it was already to late, the judgement had been passed.

However the wind was not at his beck and call and showed it. A powerful gust took hold and grasped the bolt and sent it veering right to hit a tree next to the dear who galloped away confident with it's luck.

Alex sighed and stood up and resumed his march through the woods.

---

Alex had sat down and laid up against a tree, in front of him hung a cliff with a waterfall mirroring it, he sat there and just gazed at it when he felt a familiar presence on his shoulder, the feel of a soft women who he had given himself to eternal servitude at her beck and call.

He didn't look away and just stared at the waterfall "The falls are quite beautiful this time of the year." he said emotionless save a hint of cheerful nature. "You never come to just to give greetings friend, what will you ask of me today?" he asked.

[Imperialisium]

Province of Skyrim
Pagran Village

As dawn broke the trio had made to depart, stamping out the fire and loading up their gear and tent onto the respective horses. Valerus was the first on the road by virtue of having the least items, followed by Ragnar and lastly with Elsepeth taking up the rear. Eventually they formed up side by side as Valerus read pieces of parchment. Warrants, Bounties, Odd jobs, and do dads that had been advertised.

"Bounty on a Bandit near Darkwater Crossing, that's just South-East of here." spoke Valerus in a bemused fashion.

"How much they offering?" said Ragnar while stroking his mane with his left hand.

"400 Septims." replied Valerus and Ragnar added, "Probably has a couple lackeys with em', who put out the bounty and what for?"

"Descriptions says he stole several pieces of jewelry from locals and violently attacked several travelers. Mention of possible associates with rewards of 50 Septims for them. Its put out by the Imperial Legion it seems. Probably cause they can't afford to constantly send manpower to hunt down these highwaymen." said Valerus.

"Pagrans coming up." said Elsepeth for the first time, able to easily discern the village with her Elven sight.

"Alright what do we need?" said Ragnar.

"I made a list." replied Elsepeth as she held out a small piece of parchment, her flowing and elaborately cursive script scrolled across in black ink. Valerus read it carefully and grimaced, " Its unfortunate, we'll be down to 125 Septims between the three of us after this."

"Dammit, how much did that farmer pay us for helping him re-thatch his roof again." scowled Ragnar.

"32 Septims, man was poor we couldn't ask for anything better. I mean he did re-shoe your horse for you free of charge Ragnar." stated Elsepeth from the other side of Valerus.

"Well, looks like we got a job, one that doesn't involve Ragnar falling off of a mans roof." chuckled Valerus and Elsepeth smiled, getting the humor and thought of Ragnar falling off the farmers roof again into a pile of hay. Ragnar simply shook his head and kept his eyes on the road.

The Blood Pact

The ethereal woman seemed to gaze for a moment on the falls before replying, their twinkle not lost in the void of her eyes. "The nature of our arrangement proverbially is against that mortal. I do, however, have a use for you. Go to a ford with waters dark and seek out a one eye'd elder. Your next instruction should be clear to you then."

At that the woman melded back into the darkness, leaving nothing and seeming to vanish into nothing. She was gone, to wherever no mortal could fathom, the only thing certain was that the man had a mission. A cryptic and enigmatic one at best, but that was per usual if memory serves him right.

Bruma

The Legion was mustering for its journey Northwards in earnest as the rays of the Suns transcended the mountains. Ranks upon rank of man and in some rare cases woman moved into column formations. With the Legions 200 Mounted Cavalry at the head; the Cavalry was broken into two sections, the heavies in full heavy steel Imperial armor and the Light cavalry with steel helms and light Imperial armor. Next came the Heavy infantry of the Legion, 800 soldiers broken into formations of 100 each and wearing Heavy Imperial Armor. Next came the Light infantry in Light Imperial armor and numbering 1,000 strong. This was followed by the 600 strong Auxilia which primarily consisted if Skirmishers and Archers. Leaving 100 soldiers as the officers and crews for the Legions few siege engines and administration/ logistics formation. The Legion was ready to set out as the bugle called and the trumpets flared.

Bruma Guards lined the way, the Bruma Guards were in the livery of Imperial Legionnaires, but belonged to no Legion and instead were formed like many formations as a Garrison to protect the city and police it in the name of the Empire. With a final trumpet call the ranks began to move out of the barracks and to the North, winding through the city and out into the country side.

[Vortukia]

The Pact

Alex grumbled "Dark waters and a one eyed elder..." and stood up. He looked up in the air at the sky threw his hands up. "Do you have to be so damned cryptic!" he yelled. Knowing full well it wouldn't changed a thing. He grabbed his swords off the ground and put them in their sheath on his back.

Walking along a path he mumbled to himself "Never, oh hey go to the Imperial city and kill this guy, or steal this. It's always some damned riddle!" he stopped when he heard rustling behind him. He reached his hand back and gripped a sword waiting to hear what it was.

A small white rabbit moved out of the bush and he relaxed his grip on the sword and let out a large sigh as he marched on in no particular direction.

---

A hour or so later...

---

Alex had been marching for some time and he was getting no where, annoyed he walked up to a rock and leaned against it. "This is pointless, you always give me the riddles Noct, you know I hate riddles!" he said to himself knowing full well that Nocturnal would hear, she was always watching him. He opened a pouch and pulled out some dried meat and began to nibble on it.

He decided he would wait until he could figure out the strange quest he was given.

[Phalnia]

Outskirts of Anvil

The trio crept down the small path. It was an old and rarely used path, evident by the overgrowth of plant life. At Alexander's signal they halted and crouched down. In a whisper the Breton spoke. "How many of them were there supposed to be?"

The old Argonian drew a note from her pouch and spoke. "Five bandits in total. A leader and his lackeys. The writ doesn't mention any mages so I would assume we have nothing to fear save some swords and arrows."

After a quite moment Aafiyah spoke, having improved greatly since they left the ship. "If we can sneak up on them we can take a few out before they even know what's happened."

"Sounds like a plan." Replied Alexander. "Can you see any of them from here?"

The Redguard raised his head a little, just enough to see over the tall grass. "Yes, there all there standing around the camp. About a hundred-fifty yards."

"Good. Eleedi-Ja, head over to that small rise, Aafiyah you and I will wait here. When Eleedi-Ja is in position, I'll give the signal and you two fire a volley into their camp. Then Aafiyah and I will move in close and engage in close-combat." They all nodded in agreement and moved into position.

After several minutes Alexander bellowed his command. "NOW!" In a matter of second one bandit crumpled to the ground Aafiyah's arrow striking him in the middle of his chest. Another was launched off his feet, and into a tent bringing it down on top of him, thank to Eleedi-Ja. By the time the rest could draw their weapons Alexander and Aafiyah had closed the gap between them by half. Two of the remaining bandits held an axe and mace, while the third brandished a crossbow. The first two began to close in while the crossbowman took aim at Alexander and fired. Quickly the Breton raised his shield and deflected the bolt. Before he could load another shot Eleedi-Ja, sent a lightning bolt directly into his chest. By the time she turned to the remaining bandits they were already engaged with Aafiyah and Alexander, too close together to fire.

Despite the strong stench of cheap ale the bandits were still capable fighters. Aafiyah was fighting the swordsman who quick swipes left little time for a counter. And Alexander was fighting the mace-wielder who was busily pounding on the Breton's shield.
Despite his apparent strength Alexander could hear the bandit breathing heavily. Wasting no time he swung out with his shield, catching the bandit off guard and knocking him back. Before he could react Alexander had plunged his sword deep into the man's chest. Now with only one foe to contend with Alexander swung out with his sword. The swordsman barely deflected the blade with his own. However, in that split second Aafiyah swung his scimitar, separating the head from the body.

---

Anvil

With the 500 Septim bounty in hand the trio exited the office of the guard post. They stopped in the town square to decide their next move. "That shield will definitely need some repairs." Said Aafiyah pointing to, the now heavily dented, iron shield on Alexanders arm.

"Yes, I think your right and your sword seems to have some nicks in it." Added Eleedi-Ja pointing to Aafiyah's scimitar.

"Then our next stop must be a blacksmith." All in agreement they headed down the street to find a blacksmith.

[Ralnis]

Solstheim, Marrowind,
Near Highpoint Tower,
Quest: To Remember the Fallen

The twin moons where high in the void as three tents sit around a campfire. The flame flickers and shows the dim lighting of three Argonians. Each one had a stare fixated to the flickering dance of the red and yellow lightshow as there was a deep silence for an hour until it was broken by the growing of the Ash Spawn that wander around Highpoint Tower. Highpoint Tower was a ruin that once housed a Dunmer necromancer who went by the name of Ildari Sarothi, though she had control over the Ash Spawn and given up her heart and replace it with a heart stone, but her vengeance cost her life as her master, Neloth which used to live close by centuries ago in the Fourth Era, though he died by mysterious events, might be because of his quest for knowledge but no matter what happened to the wizard, the idea objective was Highpoint Tower.


One of the Argonians, a dark orange and green one with a paint marking on his face that was a moon spoke as he got his longswords out and put them on the ground and spoke" It looks like you where right, this is the place where it all begin. That damn necromancer and that damn Tower, even after all these centuries, the Ash Spawn still linger to the Tower like they are guarding it or something."
Another Argonian that the light flicker had shown jade green skin color with a white eye that indicates blindness and he got his spear as it crackles with energy and he stands it up and uses it as leverage and gets up from the ground and looks to the Tower and saw the Ash Spawn gravitating towards the Tower and he spoke" It is the dark power of the Tower,of Ildari Sarothi and of her spellwork that woke up the dead, the blasted woman was the source of the Ash Spawn and also for the problems even from Fort Frostmarch they gravitate, I came here for this is the sole purpose, that there has to be something there that allowed Ildari to control and conjure the Ash Spawn, and so this investigation may lead to further developments of the Primalork."

The last of the three Argonians was a heavy build and he chuckled as he channel a magelight spell and held it up to his scarred face as he spoke" You know Glowing-eye, the real reason we are here is because that in order to make a nation for ourselves, then we must start small, and in order to start small, we are going to need an army, and you think that is going to be it?'
Glowing-eye gave a smile that was more like a grin and he turn his one good eye to him as he said" Well, we just have to find out if we can make due with this, besides Vord, all things small and young have to grow up eventually and stand the test of time and Nirn, now let us go see if our cause can be nurtured into a thing that can stand the test of nations."

[Stormhound]

Bruma

As the Imperial Legion mobilized, Wolfram watched with great interest. The Nordic Legionnaire was more cheerful as usual. He knew that he had been selected to be a mediator between the Empire and the villagers of Wolf's Fang. Wolfram was anxious to show his father the glories of the Empire, and the benefits of joining it.

The cavalryman rode his horse next to the Legate. "Glories to the Emperor," he told the Legate, sitting straight and proper. Wolfram enforced strict posture amongst his cavalry, and all of them looked prim and proper.

[Ralnis]

Solstheim, Marrowind,
Inside Highpoint Tower,
Quest: To Remember the Fallen

It was hard to get in, the path was littered with Ash Spawn but the Primalkin had fought the way through, but they had known when they have been quickly overrun against the Ash Spawn that have been wandering around Highpoint Tower and they where quickly ran into the Tower and barge the door with furniture.

The three Argoninans had themselves within the Tower but they found the place was a living testament of loosing the war against time itself. Glowing-eye had started sensing the air as Vord cast a magelight spell while Dance-with-Air had just lit the torch on the wall that wasn't burnt out or cracked from decay.

" So, is this where we get our army?" Vord asked Glowing-eye while walking down the stairway. Glowing-eye had started hugging the walls as he spoke" Well, there should be something the necromancer had that she was able to conjure the Ash Span, the energy coming from this place is getting more dense and it is getting quite hard to breath"

The Tower's interior had cobwebs and flipped over furniture and fireplaces that the wood was turned to ash. The floors and the ground was littered with dead Ash Spawn and some rooms where picked clean by looters. Stories had been told that the Dragonborn had came to the Tower and kill Ildari during his travels in the Fourth Era. It was shown as the dead Ash Spawn became more and more apparent until they got to the very belly of the Tower.

The three saw the alter, this alter was the center of the Tower and Glowing-eye shouted" This the place! The source of all the Ash Spawn on the island!" Vord and Dance-with-air were a bit unsure and where unease with the power that was around them. Glowing-eye turned to the other and started to share the same feelings and then he spoke" you two can feel it, this is necromancy at its base, but we have to keep moving, start searching for any clues that may indicate that this is the place that the Dumner necromancer was and anyway we can activate this device."

The Primalkin spread out around the room, there was still some things that haven't been touched like a few books. Three of them looked like pieces of a diary that belonged to the Dumner necromancer, which should give some clues for the Primalkin and give them a basis for them in this Tower and with the device. Glowing-eye was investigating the upper floor where he found a bed, a used fireplace, and a skeleton. That is when Vord called out" anything?" across the room they both yelled out" yeah, meet upstairs."

The three gathered together around the skeleton and Vord spoke" okay guys, show-and-tell time" Dance-with-air humored Vord and showed the diary entries" well it looks like I found some journals, but could not read the rest of the books, and the cover was torn and tattered a bit" Dance-with-air hand the books to both Glowing-eye and Vord to inspect.

" It looks like she was able to fend death and control the Ash Spawn with the Heart Stones that are used to reanimate them." Glowing-eye said as he went through the notes. Vord remembered something and said as he put his hand on Glowing-eye shoulder" Wasn't there a vein of that stuff in this place, the books say that this place was once a mine before the necromancer came and started killing everyone and trying to experiment on them."

Glowing-eye looked up and said" Wasn't their a Starhim vein also, and by the looks of it, the vein is still good and healthy, good be worth something and probably get a smith and get some more help for our cause, also what is the skeleton Glowing-eye?"
" I am guessing by the large hole in the ribcage where the heart normally is, I will say that this is the Dunmer necromancer herself, which will explain what happen to her."
The three look around and saw the skeleton and saw the Tower and they all came up with the idea" So, this is going to be our new home? Well its better then living in a tent or spending all of our coin in Raven Rock, though it is nice, anyone objects?"
" Hmm, no I don't, but it is a start for us, then alright then, though I want to spruce up the place, maybe get some workers to start mining the place."
" Yeah, we can try and make some good out of the mine portions of the Tower and try to reinforce the support beams and get some new help and of course, test subjects for Glowing-eye to study the device."
Then they all agreed and finally had a place for the Primalkin to call home for now, for this is only a small step in their grand goals for what they have for this new idea of theirs.
( Quest: To Remember the Fallen is completed)

[Vortukia]

The Blood Pact

Alexander sat there and just thought on the words nocturnal gave him, then it hit him. He knew where to go...
Dark Water Crossing!

He slung his crossbow back over his shoulder and got up, he brushed the dust off his weathered armor and began a march to the direction if he recalled should take him to his location.

---

Some time later, after tired feet boring sights he was nearing his destination, he would get there any minute. In that time Alex thought to himself, on what exactly Nocturnal wanted him to do. She always gave him stuff that was a little to...boring for his taste. Hopefully this would be different.

Then he arrived, he was at Darkwater Crossing.

[Illan]

Raven Rock, Solstheim
Redoran Garan Velthan

The ride back to Solstheim was rough.

A small boat pulled into the ashy docks of Raven Rock, seemingly with only a few figures on it. There seemed to be about three Nords, one Imperial serving as the captain, and a single cloaked Dunmer. The Dunmer rode with a leg raised on top of a wooden crate, and he leaned on it as he surveyed the oh-so familiar surroundings he had come to know. He stood with a hood covering his face, shade hiding his features save for his beaming blue eyes. Those eyes. They made him stick out like a sore thumb in a crowd of other Dunmer, thanks to Neloth's experiments on him ages ago. But Garan had come to terms with it. It made him unique, and gave him the unique ability of night eye when he desired to activate it. But even when the ability was not used, his eyes still glowed with the same blue, unearthly tint.

The ship pulled up next to a dock, and one of the Nord sailors throwing an anchor overboard with a heaving yell. Garan got off the ship without saying a word, and nodded to the Nord sailors as his cloak trailed in the ashy winds behind him. Garan was fairly well known in Raven Rock, using his old subterranean manor as his base of operations for many, many years now. He pulled his good down to the back of his neck, revealing his short stubble and black hair in addition to his eyes. He walked through the marketplace of the small town, nodding and greeting he faces he has known for much of his adult life. He wasn't at Raven Rock very often, due to him being off and adventuring, finding his fortune, or just going wherever fate might take him.

After walking through the marketplace a ways and further down the town, Garan approaches a seemingly small building situated next to the coastline and the rocky ridge that overlooked Raven Rock. He goes up to the door of the building, and takes a small, simple key, unlocking it. Inside the door lied a decent sized atrium-style room, with a large staircase descending straight underground, as was the staple of many houses in Raven Rock to protect from the ash storms. The manor was fairly exquisite in its subterranean state, various rooms of importance that Garan deemed neccesary, such as a library or an armory; and even a trophy room. Garan sets his various items down in the large bedroom of the manor, dusting the ash off of his chitin and leather armor. He opened his backpack, and took out a large mass of bone from it. An old dragon's skull he discovered near a burial mound in Skyrim, possibly one the Last Dragonborn destroyed himself. He placed the skull on a large shelf situated against the wall of the room, smiling. He had quite the collection of various relics he acquired on his journeys, ranging from simple jewels and stones to various tomes of importance, and many things in between. Garan enjoyed his home on Raven Rock, but it had always felt.....lonely, ever since his parents passed away. It felt like a big, decorated empty shell.

Garan shoved this thought to the back of his mind, and after a few hours of relaxing and reading a few books from his library with a bit of sujamma, he ascended back into the ashy lands of Solstheim. His first view as he exited the house was of the iconic Red Mountain, smoke and ash pouring out of it, as usual.

"One day.....One day I'll go there." Garan said to himself with a sigh, wanting to see his homeland greatly, but he had refrained himself from going due to the tales of danger he had heard about the place. Garan walked out of the small, bustling town of Raven Rock, and into the ash ridden wastes of Solstheim, his cloak trailing behind him, bow and spell ready for whatever he might come across.

[Tel Vanni]

Morrowind

As the silt strider neared the ruins of Balmora, Xulcandra noticed four small hills, arranged in a square. Somebody had planted a parasol mushroom on each one. To her eye, they looked about 30 years old or so.

"That must be Fort Moonmoth," Xulcandra said, pointing them out to the Nord.

"That's a giant mushroom, not a fort," said the Nord. "You must be blind as a bat."

Xulcandra sighed. She often forgot how stupid some people could be, and that not everyone was older than those hills.

"I mean what's under those four mushrooms. Look at the hills they are on. The shape of the land is probably caused by the ruins of Fort Moonmoth underneath. Look, there's a low area in the center, where the courtyard was. Somebody has flooded it and planted marshmerrow. They must have planted the parasols to mark the boundaries of the farmstead, because marshmerrow doesn't need or like the shade. That wider hill, with hut on it, must be over the main keep."

"It's always been like that, Smokey. That's Ralen Thuul's farm." The Nord pointed with his dagger, before using it to pry the cork out of another bottle of mead. "He also owns that comberry orchard over there."

Again, Xulcandra sighed. "How long have you been in Morrowind? It can't have been all that long."

"What? I been living in these parts for years!" the Nord exclaimed. "Almost 6 years, I'll have you know!"

"In the Balmora area," she asked?

"Nope. In Caldera. But I stop by Balmora sometimes, to buy Thuul's hooch and try my hand at a bit of treasure diving."

"So you're one of them. I should have guessed." Xulcandra had heard about these outlanders, coming to loot the ruined cities. "You treasure hunters all come to the same places, over and over. No matter how many people have picked over the same ruins, you all think you'll find something everybody else missed."

"Not me," said the Nord. "I can dive deeper than anybody. I just know there's something down there, deeper than anyone else can reach."

"Treasure hunters have been coming here for nearly 200 years," Xulcandra told him. "They started coming almost as soon as news reached the mainland of how the moutain had destroyed the city. They've picked the ruins completely clean and not all of them relied on their diving skills and thick skins. They brought potions and spells and Helms of Water Breathing. Some of them were even Argonians. What will you find that they did not?"

"This!" exclaimed the Nord, presenting a rusty key too close to Xulcandra's face.

"My point exactly."

"Besides," said the Nord, "the mountain didn't destroy Balmora. The flood did."

Xulcandra sighed at him once again. "You don't know much, do you?"

The Nord shrugged. "I know I can buy comberry wine at the next stop."

"The mountain did destroy Balmora." Xulcandra took a deep breath and began to lecture the Nord. "That valley we crossed just before Ralen Thuul's marshmerrow paddy is called a 'foyada.' When the volcano erupts, the foyadas are the main channels down which most of the ash flows. The eruption of the Red Year was the most violent ever known, and our Dunmer memories go back thousands of years. That time, a rolling wave of fire and ash, thousands of feet tall, rolled down the foyada, sweeping along everything in its path.

"Where we crossed, just as back then, there was a gap in the foyada. The wave of ash, so much bigger than ever before, struck the gap and splashed up into the air. Much of that must have fallen on Fort Firemoth, which was right there, next to the gap. But millions of tons of ash were turned aside, toward Balmora."

"But Balmora wasn't buried under the ash," interrupted the Nord. "It's under water. Everybody knows that."

"Half of the city was buried under the ash," Xulcandra continued. "We're riding over it right now. But the ash flow had to cross the river to reach the city. The river was completely blocked for years."

Xulcandra gestured toward the land before them. "Most of the ash came to rest over there, where those farms are now. Much of it fell in the river, right where we are crossing now. The rest of the river backed up to create the lake, flooding the part of the city on the far side of the river, where you do your diving. Once the water had risen high enough, it could flow over the blockage to create the Odai Cascade."

"So the mountain flooded the city by blocking the river?"

"Exactly!"

"So, what? I still got half a city to look for treasure in. Them's still good enough odds for me.

Xulcandra smiled for the first time since the Nord had joined her on the silt strider.

"You still don't know the best part." Xulcandra paused a moment, so the naked truth would sink in. "That side of the city was where the poor people lived."

Xulcandra did not tell him the part she found most amusing. The cascade had cut through most of the blockage already. Xulcandra gave it 10 years, 12 on the outside, before the lake began to drain. Even this old Nord would probably live to see the ruins above water once again.

[Imperialisium]

Province of Skyrim
Pagran Village

Pagran Village, well if you could it that; was a collection of a few homesteads located along a stream set on top of a hill. The village by Imperial records has a stable population of 48 Nords while holding a small inn that doubled as a general store and a neighboring Imperial Legion garrison using a ruined fort roughly 8 miles South-East. The Village did have a stable economy as well thanks to the Dark Water Crossing Mine located in between the Garrison of Mistwatch and the village itself.

The day was sunny, with about two dozen people in what was roughly the center of town, that being dominated by a well the village folk took most of their water from. The villagers seemed friendly to the travelers and rumors of a good harvest was to come this year were already circulating about. So the trio dispersed, with Elsepeth heading to the general store/in with a coin purse of Septims; Ragner hitched the horses up to the communal stales located just off North of the village center; while, Valerus went about the village casually, occasionally striking up a conversation with a local and asking if they'd seen any of the men wanted. He got a few leads, said they operated somewhere South and East of the village on the opposite sides of the river.

After about an hour of fruitless research into the bandits and all he was getting where directions to their supposed hide out Valerus turned back to the center of the village. That was when he heard a commotion coming from the inn. Just outside of the front door stood Elsepeth, she must have been about ten steps heading back to the horses when a ring of four men surrounded her.

Valerus walked up casually, Elsepeth casting glances his way; the four Nordic young men seemed cock-eyed and bearing lavish grins. "Well looky hear boys, we got ourselves an Elf maid. Young lass at that!" said what could be surmised as the ring leader.

"Heh the Thalmor should know that they ain't wanted up here!" shouted another, no doubt any of these guys had hardly ever seen any Elves before in their lives to know Elsepeth wore no Thalmor insignia. That'd be like claiming every Imperial was a member of the Legion.

"Why don't we take her behin' the hill and have our way eh boys?" said the Ring leader again and they all affirmed with nods and jeers. Ragnar could be seen coming from the opposite direction to where Valerus was standing, he had his hand on his Battle Axe; Valerus himself had his hand wresting on the pommel of Sorrow Maker.

Elsepeth replied sternly, "heh now, I don't want any trouble you see. I'm no Thalmor, just passing through."

But whatever words she could speak had been lost on the debauched thoughts these men were having about their possible actions in the immediate future. One from the side stepped up to grab her, but lurched back in a howl of agony, "YOU BITCH!" His hand was beat red as if he'd stuck it in an oven, flames wrapped around Elsepeths left hand.

"You're gonna wish you didn't do that you Elven whore!" said the Ring leader as he pulled out an iron knife, his comrade to the left pulled out a dagger while the one from the back was ready to pounce. That was when Ragnar struck, thumping the man with the dagger on the back of the head. He fell over like a falling cupboard, unconscious and a welt already forming on the back of his head.

Valerus then stepped up and drew his sword, the cold ringing steel shone brilliantly in the light of the Sun. Doubt coursed through the ring leaders eyes and he backed off mumbling, "Hey now, we just having a bit of sport, that's all I swear on the names of the Divines!"

"Last time I checked, Rape and attempted physical assaults are crimes in the eyes of the Empire." spoke Valerus as the jingling of armor could be seen. A pair of Men in the livery of the Guards of Eastmarch ran up, one of the villagers had notified the small patrol in the village of this confrontation was anyone's guess.

"Whats going on here!" bellowed one of the helmeted Guardsmen.

"We uh..were just leaving." said the ring leader as he edged away with his ruffians, Valerus nodded to the guards and they sheathed their swords.

"I'm watching you three." said the ring leader with eyes like daggers to the three defiant travelers. Ragnar looked them down until they were out of sight and Elsepeth grabbed up her things in small parcels, heading to the horses. Valerus walked with her the rest of the way while Ragnar went in for a drink.

Blood Pact

Dark Water Crossing was home to a nearby mine exporting Iron and some Corundum for steel smithing, along with the occasional gem found in the Earth. A small wayfarers in and rest house sat on the West side of the river with a farmhouse just up the road, a small mill was to the North-East and a wooden bridge crossed at a point where the two shores were closest. A trio of Hold Guards walked down the road to the North in the direction of Pagran Village and further afield to Windhelm.

Heading in the opposite direction was a trio of Imperial Legionnaires in Light garb on patrol from the Mistwatch Fort garrison. A few Nord civilians could be seen milling about and one seemed to be hobbled with a black hood covering his head as he moved into the wayfarers house.

Seventh Legion

The Legate nodded to Wolfram and said, "Glory to Tamriel." The Legion was strung out over half a mile with the baggage train adding another half mile to it. The Legion was mustered into ranks four abreast as they moved North wards towards Skyrim, the geography becoming colder, snow blotched some higher ground and the forests thicker. The Mountains rose up first in front of them and then progressively around them as the Imperial soldiers moved by and the miles ticked by.

[Tel Vanni]

Morrowind
Somewhere in the mountains

Xulcandra was quite happy to have left that stupid, old Nord behind her. His stupid questons and racist remarks had truly tested her patience and her noble graces. If she ever talked to a Human again, she hoped he could at least refrain from using words like "thems."

It was starting to rain again, but this time, Xulcandra found shelter under an emperor parasol. She took off her new boots and stretched her toes.

It was good that she had sold her fancy shoes and bought these boots. She doubted she'd have made it this far into the mountains, otherwise. It had been centuries since she'd walked this much. It didn't hurt that there'd been money left over for food and a small spade, either. The boots were quite inexpensive, for alit hide.

Xulcandra tried not to eat too much of the hound meat and saltrice she had bought from the farmers. The food was good, but it had to last a few days. Besides, she believed she could do to lose a bit of weight.

Her lunch was interrupted by seven young Humans. Most of them looked like Cyrodiils, though one of them looked more like a Breton. Each of them wore an assortment of random armor, mostly various kinds of leather and bonemold. They were also armed in a similarly eclectic fashion. They spread out, trying to surround her.

Xulcandra stood up and slowly backed away. She only needed a few steps to get a tall cliff face behind her back. She didn't mind boxing herself in, so long as she could keep them all where she could see them.

The largest of the young men came closer than the others. "That's a pretty lid ya got on, lady." He gestured toward her glass helmet with a tiny, glass knife, not much bigger than a throwing knife. "I'll have that offa ya first."

Xulcandra recognized the blade the instant she saw it. He had Endora's Letter Opener.

"How dare you try to rob me with my own letter opener?" she snapped. "Hand it over, this instant!"

The rogue hesitated a moment, then said, "I guess we's doing it the hard way, boys. Get her!"

When the lead rogue tried to stab her throat with the letter opener, Xulcandra was too enraged to hold back. She grabbed his wrist and twisted it around before any of the others even moved. With Endora's Signet Ring on her other hand, she blasted away at the rogue over and over and over. With each blast, the rogue screamed, each time louder than the last. On the fifth blast, he perished, but Xulcandra blasted him twice more as his charred corpse collapsed at her feet, as a lesson to the others.

Xulcandra doubted the ring had enough charge to kill the rest of the bandits the same way, so she had to get rid of them by some other means. If they charged her, she'd be too hard pressed to cast any spells, so it would turn into a long knife fight.

The rest of the thugs just stood there, shocked, as she picked up the letter opener. She could feel the blade begin to work its magic on her as she held it in her hand.

"Now I have the letter opener," she snarled, brandishing the tiny blade. "IT'S TIME TO OPEN THE MALES!"

The rest of the bandits scattered in all directions. They were terrified. One tripped over his own feet and went tumbling down the mountainside. Another tossed his sword aside as he ran down the trail. Xulcandra didn't care, so long as she didn't have to fight all of them at once. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down.

Only one rogue remained, bowing at her feet. Xulcandra looked down at him in disgust. Was he drooling?

[Vortukia]

Blood Pact

Alexander noted his surroundings, the mine could provide a good place for a heist in the future if he was short on funds, although he didn't buy much some beggars may like it. Alex always liked the beggars, they kept their ears to the ground, they mostly were good men and women and he felt sorry for him and had in the past many times given coin or food to them. One time he even help a ex-Imperial soldier find work as a hired sword. He was happy with that way of thinking.

He noted the strange man in the hood. Could this be his target? he thought to himself, it would have to be a one eyed elf so he walked around and positioned himself behind a rock in front of the individual and looked at his face.

[Stormhound]

Wolfram rode his horse with the rest of the horsemen, leading them. The petty noble sat up straight, his officers doing the same. As one of the captains of the cavalrymen, Wolfram set an example the best he could.

As his horse walked further and further towards Skyrim, Wolfram pondered more and more. What would his father think, when he saw that his son was now a petty noble, an Equestrian? How would he feel when he realized his eldest child worshiped in an Imperial temple, and was considered a Cyrodilian?

The farther they travelled towards Skyrim, the more Wolfram was lost in thought. When they finally reached the village, he and his men were exhausted.

"Your excellency," Wolfram rode up to the Legate. "I request to be able to ride into the village, first. Confirm everything is fine. My father will listen to me." suddenly, he was conscientous about his Cyrodil accent, it sounded so much like the Imperials. Everything about him, from his hair, to his accent, to his clothes, suggested Imperial culture.

[Gallup]

Outside Windhelm

Today was a big day for a certain Green Argonian. He was going to meet the High King of Skyrim. Well, he'd attend a meeting where the High King was at. The Black Marsh ambassador was invited to speak with High King Slymara to try and mend the relations between the two nations. As the embassy's Jel-Tamerilic translator, he came to big meetings and translated for the ambassador, whose Tamerlic was rusty at best. They were meeting in Windhelm, as per the High Kings request.

As Runs-With-Scissors entered the palace, he and the ambassador were whisked away to a long room with a table in the middle. As he sat down, he noticed someone else enter the room. The Thalmor ambassador. Al-Leel, the Black Marsh ambassor, hissed. "Karoc'!" he cursed in Jel. The Thalmor and Argonians had never gotten along very well. He sat down for what would be a long meeting.

Outside Darkwater Crossing

Runs-With-Scissors sighed. That was a waste of a meeting. Nothing got done. He hated unproductive meetings. Always had. Just yelling back and forth. At least now he had a vacation. He thought he'd go see so friends in Riften.

Weary from the ride, he stopped at a nearby village, stabled his horse, and hitched a tent. He hung a piece of silver from his flap to keep out his biggest fear, werewolves. Then, he walked over to a fire, and started to chat with the locals. In Black Marsh, it was customary to introduce yourself every time you slept in a new place. This was his first time in Skyrim, so he had a lot of introducing.

[New Armarzia]

White Gold Tower
Imperial City
Cyrodiil

Vulpes sat at an elegant chair around a grand, circular table made of white stone. Twenty-nine others sat in the other chairs of the chamber, all of them wearing elegant clothes to match their position. On the opposing side of the table a chancellor was reporting on recent happenings within The Empire. "...Seventh Legion is on its way to reinforce The Fourth in Skyrim to deal with issues in The Reach."

Vulpes shook his head and then turned his head slightly to the right. Sitting next to him was Addriane Vivienne, a Breton woman who had heavy connection with the East Empire Trading Company and thus Vulpes's family had connections to her. This among with a few more personal reasons involving them meeting outside the tower at night made them fairly strong allies which by extensions made her Vulpes's only ally on the council. He whispered to her, "We waste soldiers in Skyrim, the Jarl's there refuse to cooperate leaving the legions to manage all else. And many still harbor resentment since that foolish civil war and the ban of worship. The damned province is almost as bad as Morrowind."

Addriane smiled at the comment and sat quietly for a moment, listening in on what the main topic that was being brought up. They were speaking of an increase in raids made by Orcs, but the Imperial Navy was fine with the problem for the time being. She turned her head slightly to the left before whispering, "You really despise Morrowind, don't you?"

Vulpes sighted before responding in a hushed tone, "The cursed province has never benefited the empire. They have despised us ever since we brought peace to their lands. The only ally we had in that land was killed off by the rest out of spite. And with it still recovering, we lose money to assist them hoping they will like us because of it, but they never will. And to top it off they spit on the faces of The Eight Divine with their worship of Daedra and we allow it to appease fanatical refugees. We do not control Morrowind simply occupy it, with the absence of House Hlaalu, it is only a matter of time before the dark elves regain their strength and turn on us in our weakened state. At least in Skyrim, the queen supports us."

Addriane chuckled before asking one last question, "So what would you have The Empire do?"

Vulpes was quick in his response as he heard the current speaker was drawing to a close, "Look towards Black Marsh and Elsweyr, if the stories of what the Argonian did to the Daedra at the end of the third era are true, they would be a powerful ally. And since no one besides the Argonians can even live in that swamp we wouldn't have to waste legions defending it. And Elsweyr holds a lot trade opportunities for The Empire and we wouldn't have to deal with orcs and pirate getting there."

The last speaker finished his proposal for wanting to boost the strength of the navy, but the rest were not in favor as the Imperial navy has had little issues as of yet. The High Chancellor finally said, "Is there any other matters of business we need to discuss?"

Vulpes raised his voice and said, "Yes, there are rumors circulating that Elder Scrolls may be located in Skyrim. With the approval of the council I would like to raise expedition made up of a small detachment of legionaries and Imperial battlemages along with a couple of Moth priests to confirm these rumors and secure the scrolls."

The Chancellor nodded and said, "Yes, I am sure we would all like to see the libraries of this tower restored. Emperor has taken an interest in the dealings with Skyrim, if he approves you will have your expedition. And with that I believe this meeting will be adjourned."

The councilors got up and began to leave. Addriane approached Vulpes who had just got up and said, "Do you want to meet at the tavern?"

"No, I want to look up a few things in the library here first. Later though, when it is dark, why don't we meet for...drinks," replied Vulpes.

Addriane chuckled and said, "Always wait for the dark to do your sins, don't you? I'll come be when night falls." She walked away before Vulpes headed to the stairs to browse the library.

Main Gates
Kvatch
Cyrodiil

Dancer-in-the-Mist leaned against the stone wall, watching the gate and the people coming by. A few gave him stares ranging from fascination to mistrust. His armor, origination from the blades, often did so. The guards eyed him every once in a while due to the fact that he wore armor and kept to blades at his side, never a good sight in a city if you're a guard. But luckily for them, the Argonian would be leaving soon. Two men, in simple clothes and armed with bows and daggers were heading outside the gate. They were hunters, the area was near great hunting lands. As you neared the border of Valenwood, it was easy to find animals who had wandered outside of the great forests of Valenwood.

Dancer-in-the-Mist pushed off the wall as he trailed the hunter. He could see the relief in the guards' eyes as he walked outside the gate. At first, trailing the men was simple. They were all on the main road so it wasn't suspicious, but the men soon turned off the road to head into the woods between the road and the border. This part would be much more difficult, but Dancer-in-the-Mist was trained to hunt Argonians in The Black Marsh itself so he felt confident in his abilities.

After a few hours, the men finally found themselves a prize, a very large deer kept its distance from them and so the two hunters split up. One would drive the deer to the other. It was time for Dancer-in-the-Mist to strike. He followed the hunter that would circle around and lie in wait for the deer, waiting till they were far enough from the other hunter. He drew his bolas by grabbing one of the three weights before spinning it above his head and throwing to the hunter. The three weights wrapped around the ankles of the unsuspecting hunter who fell and hit the ground hard. Dancer-in-the-Mist sprinted up to the fallen man before taking an elven arrow colored black like that of the Thalmor out of a cloth package he carried. He turned the surprised man around and stabbed him in the neck with the arrow before he could react.

He heard leaves being crunched and saw the deer was approaching along with the other hunter. Dancer-in-the-Mist quickly grabbed the bow of the fallen hunter and notched the second elven arrow before taking aim upon the second hunter who was trying to keep up with the deer and figure out where his friend was. After half a minute, the Argonian turned from behind a tree and let the arrow fly which hit the man in the thigh causing him to fall as he was running to stay with the deer. Dancer approached the second hunter who squirming due to the pain, he drew one of his two katanas before reaching the second hunter and slitting his throat.

The Argonain then proceeded to fill four vials full of the blood of the two hunters before adding a few ingredients provided by the guard of his master to help preserve the blood. He left the scene, along with the elven arrows to draw attention elsewhere before making his way to the Imperial City.

[Imperialisium]

Blood Pact

What Alexander would see could be surmised as an aging man, nearly bald, with one eye lid stitched shut for one reason or another. Its sunken look made it obvious he was indeed missing an eye, and his robes covering him gave an unusual feel about him as he hobbled into the wayfarers house.

Seventh Legion

Wolfram's Legate nodded and replied, "Very well," as the pace of the Legion drummed on towards the village. The village itself was its first destination and objective was to enforce the Imperial taxes that had been neglected if not refused by the locals. With the Census and Excise adepts having made frequent complaints about this village.

White Gold Tower, Imperial Palace, Elder Council rooms
Cyrodiil

The Emperor, Tiberius III Severan, sat upon his Throne in the Council chambers and read the dispatches and news. The Seventh Legion had reached its first destination in reaffirming Imperial dominion over a village on the border of Skyrim and Cyrodiil. He had arrived after the council had been dismissed and was simply there to read the reports himself in the solitude of the empty chambers.

Tiberius III had ascended the throne last year after the death of his Father, Tiberius II, who died of natural causes. His grandfather, Tiberius I, and a cousin to Titus Mede II had ascended the Throne by virtue of Elder Council consent. Tiberius I, was an effective ruler and strong willed like Titus before him plus a better administrator. That Tiberius had been able to continue Imperial overlordship over Skyrim by placing Sylmara on the Throne as Elisif retired to a nice villa in Haafinger Hold. Tiberius then succeeded in occupying Western Morrowind, now often dubbed, "Imperial Morrowind," to differentiate between the territories not under Imperial suzerainty. Yet at best it was more of a glorified Military occupation and governorship than anything else; Vvardenfell was outside of the Empire's borders, Southern and Eastern mainland Morrowind was also outside the Emperor's control. The only major failing of Tiberius the First was the loss of High Rock, although blood less by wisely ordering an Imperial withdrawal (while systematically emptying all Imperial coffers back into Cyrodiil) as King Emeric IV declared an independent Breton state headquartered in Daggerfall. Tiberius died of natural causes at the ripe age of 79 in 5E 3.

Tiberius the Second on the other hand, while adept at governing Cyrodiil was an abysmal foreign policy maker. Sylmara was given greater autonomy than many Imperial officials thought wise, she did not stab him in the back so his trust was not ill placed. Rather it gave an excuse for the Jarls to increasingly exert local authority as if they were loyal to Sylmara only. Tiberius II died in 5E 4 at the age of 52 having only ruled about a year.

Thus Tiberius the Third at then aged 28 found himself on the Imperial Throne. So far Tiberius was proving to me more like his Grandfather than his Father. Yet, despite his title he could not speak for his entire bureaucracy or the dealings of the entire Elder Council which admittedly was on a very low ebb. He could exert power and influence within Cyrodiil, the Imperial Provinces borders and had spent time in reorganizing and strengthening the Provinces defenses where he could and more importantly, where the Imperial Coffers could afford. For the Empire was now obviously on the defensive and thus a good defense was a good offense in preserving itself.

[Vortukia]

The Blood Pact

Alexander studied the mans face and sighed, this is the man he must kill. He walked up to the man in his path and when he walked by he put his hand out to stop him. Alex looked up at the man and in a emotionless voice said, "When was the last time you spoke to your loved ones friend?"

Alex out of sight set his hand on his blade gripping it.

[New Armarzia]

White Gold Tower
Imperial City
Cyrodiil

Vulpes double checked he had the correct books, most of them were cultural and geographical guides to Black Marsh and Skyrim for two different opportunities Vulpes hoped to eventually press. With his three books, he walked down to the first floor to continue his almost daily tradition of reading studying in the council chamber till the sun was absent and was then safe for Vulpes to be outside to hide his dark secret.

He opened the doors to the chambers and saw the Emperor sitting on his throne. "My Imperial Majesty, I am so sorry, I did not mean to disturb you. I thought the chambers were empty, please forgive me," said Vulpes Esurientem as he bowed his head to the Emperor.