++The Elder Scrolls: Emperor's Fist (IC/Closed)++

[Dukopolious]

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[OOC]

Rules:
-Thou shall not Godmod
~Thou shall not post less than 10 sentences
-Thou shall not make more than 1 non-Elder Scrolls related reference per post
~Thou shall not use the words "Arrow to the knee" more than once every 5 posts
-Thou shall not post OOC information in the IC thread
~Thou shall not become inactive for more than 1 weeks time between posts
-Thou shall not deny the wills of the Mods, OPs or Co-OPs
~Thou shall not break any rules, lest they risk being removed from the RP and having their character's soul banished to Oblivion
-Thou shall have fun.

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[Mature]

The air smelt of blood and steel. The stone walls of the fort were lined with blood and arrows, large heaps of bodies, both Imperial and Stormcloak alike stood alongside the forge waiting to be stripped and burned. The Imperial troops were in the process of ripping down enemy flags, collecting valuables from their brothers and enemies alike, along with setting up a defensive perimeter.

The Battle in Fellglow Keep was bloody and far more difficult than expected. With enemy troops drawn in many different directions and the base still being new from it's occupation mere days prior, commanders back in Solitude had only sent 50 men to take a base that could house nearly twice that. With loses in the high thirties, the attack was considered a major failure in the circumstances, despite the fact that the imperials were victorious. Yet even this wouldn't have been certain for if it weren't for members of the Imperitore Manum.

This elite branch of the Imperial Legion as highly autonomous, with the best soldiers from around Tamriel filling it's ranks. It's soldiers pride themselves on skill rather than experience, for the young and fit serve The Emperor so when they grow old, they can truly serve the Empire. Being made up of many different races with many backgrounds ranging from Thalmore runaways, to Mages even to simple minded mercenaries, but they are all united for their sheer loyalty to the Emperor. This unity is what makes The Manum like a well forged sword, in perfect unison, constantly moving in it's welder's hand, bringing death to the enemies of it's master.

The commander of the Skyrim Imperitores was the young and aspiring Bosmer, Sarrina of Valenwood. Her long brown hair lightly swayed in the wind as she walked to a higher platform to meet her fellow elites. The clasp of boots on rock was loud even against the strong night winds of Whiterun's North. Her bow was probably the cleanest article she bore. Her uniform was bloodstained and her dagger bore fragments of a Stormcloak's heart along it's hilt. She was one of the few infiltrators who snuck into the base and managed to ambush the Barracks while the insurgents slept on their own filth. Her Daggers met the throats of several Stormcloaks in mere minutes, and as soon as the base was alerted, and the main force advanced, her arrows met their marks on many unsuspecting Rebels.

She stood with the moon beside her, illuminating the right side of her face, the other Imperitors stood before her as the regular troops scanned the treeline for any late reinforcements. Her voice broke the growing silence and managed to attract the attention of a few nearby birds, a song voice common to Bosmer. Yet a light rasp showed that she was focused and years of warfare had stomped out her natural playful and careless nature. "Men and women of the Manum, I stand before you today to inform you of our victory. It is thanks to our superior skill and training that these miserable excuses of soldiers still stand today. If it were not for you, these men standing here would've been mercilessly slaughtered due reckless mistakes on the part of Solitude. Thanks to you, a force far larger than our own has been put down, with their higher ranked officers paralyzed and taken prisoner. Thanks to you Stormcloak influence in Whtierun Hold has decreased to a point of near-nonexistence. Thanks to you, The Imperial Legion has taken Fellglow Keep and is on the verge on convincing Jarl Balgruuf The Greater to side with the High Queen Elisif. You have served The Emperor well. You deserve a rest. Regular shifts will be in place, you will find some Black Briar mead in the barracks, don't celebrate too much. In the morning we are to receive new orders directly from The Imperial City. Dismissed".

And with that, Sarrina stiffly saluted the Imperitores and turned to inspect the defensive position of the base. It would almost certainly be flawed due to the fact that the main commanders of the assault were killed, leaving her as commander of the base by default. Much to the displeasure of the regular troops. Being one of the most strict and stubborn commanders in Skyrim, she was most certainly did not fit a soldier's vision of an ideal commander. The first impression of her was simply a young attractive Wood Elf Archer. Perfectly fitting many Nordic stereotypes, but within minutes of meeting her, opinions are changed like the tides of the rivers that flow through the heart of Skyrim.

The moment the moons light left her face, troops around the base exhaled, much like a collective sigh, they knew that they were in for a lecture about how they barely compared to a single Imperitore. For they were the best, and the Stormcloaks would soon learn this.

[Nyr Hrafn-Heim]

Bruma

It was a cold yet sunny day in the city of Bruma, and more specifically Cloud Ruler temple, which was currently in ruins. Both Alucard and Caroline had been camping out there for roughly a week now and were just prepping to move on. Inside of the armory, Alucard was currently fiddling with his weapon of choice, Perfection, on the wet stone making the blade as sharp as any razor and as dangerous as any spell. After a few minutes of sharpening it, Alucard got to his feet and swung the Daedric weapon at a near by stone pillar that was about 3 inches thick and the blade passed through with ease. Alucard grinned at his weapon's performance and began walking outside to the battlements of the now ancient temple. Once on the forward most tower he gazed down the large hill which the fortress sat upon and sighed at the sight of the now snowy environment. His missed the warmer, flatter, and grassier lands of the Heartlands and damn near despised the colder, hillier terrain.

While he looked out over the landscape he subconsciously returned Perfection to it's intricate white gold and silver scabbard before removing his hood. Now that his features had been exposed and the sunlight shined on his face, his snow white hair appeared to glow while his wheat yellow eyes sparkled as the rays of light hit them. He had always looked this way ever since his first encounter with the Daedric prince of order, Jygalag, and he claimed his current blade as his own. He thought back to what it felt like to grip Perfection for the first time and shuttered slightly. He remember all of his current emotions, fear, anger, grief, desperation, and anxiety simply wash away into a cold void of blankness. When he looked into the blade of the weapon his noticed his hair turning from dirty brown to white, his eyes going from a brilliant shade of blue to a intense shade of yellow, and his normally tanned skin turning to a blank pale shade of white. Over the course of the past ten years, Alucard had regained what made him him such as his personality, but as far as physical features go, only his skin returned to it's normal tanned color.

After a while of thinking back Alucard snapped back to reality and turned around to survey the area behind him, trying to locate Caroline but to no avail. He thought for a moment before finally deciding to simply Scry her. He unsheathed Perfection once again and stared into the mirror like blade before casting a minor spell to find her. Eventually in the reflection of the blade, Caroline appeared. She was in the main hall of Cloud Ruler temple flipping through the pages of a book which he could not identify. He grunted and began walking away from the battlements and towards the main door, only stopping to sheath his blade. He then began walking again and soon arrived at the two massive wooden doors that lead into the main hall. Alcuard happily pushed them open and walked inside, gleefully embracing the heat that came from the hearth on the far side of the room over the cold of the bitter wind. "Caroline!" He started, sounding slightly excited. "We are leaving my dear girl! We can finally be rid of this meek so-called city!" His voice was powerful sounding yet at the same time docile and kind. He sounded as though he could snap your neck just as easily as he could kiss it. "Skyrim awaits lass, as does are new company. Let us not keep them waiting."

[Legital]

The strong scent of mead filled Dar'Ji'Casimirs nostrils as he walked into the inn named The Winking Skeever. His blue feline eyes adjusted from the change to bright sunlight, to dim inside light, as he peered around the inn. It appeared to be a normal day at the inn, with some Nords off at the tables drinking, but plenty of open spaces for newcomers to come and rest themselves at. Casimir walked, or rather glided as it appeared with his hooded cloak on that ended an inch from the ground, to the bar where the barkeep was located. Casimir sniffed the air, and thought he detected the scent Salmon, but he was not here to dine. He took a seat on one of the stools silently, and watched the back of the barkeep as the man placed a tankard on a shelf. The man turned, and slightly startled as he beheld the black cloaked figure that sat at his bar which so quietly appeared. Casimir grinned widely, and then removed his hood, revealing his face.

He had three small scars running across his face, clearly from some claw of an animal, or perhaps another Khajiit. His fur was a light grey, but his ears and the front of his face was a much darker grey color. On his back was a bow and quiver of arrows, and at his hip was a sword scabbard. "Greetings barkeep." He said, his voice smooth and slightly mischievous unlike most Khajiits raspy tone. "This one would like to inquire about the location of a carriage service." The man hesitated for a moment, and then leaned on the bar, smiling. "That sort of information is not free for those like you."
Casimirs grin slowly disappeared. He was well aware of the racial hate towards his kind, along with many other races, but the Khajiits and the Argonians seemed to have it the worse, even when they were in the midst of Imperials. Casimir examined the man, pinning him as an Imperial, rather than a Nord or a Breton based on his slight scent, and his build. Casimir could also easily kill the man. In multiple ways, actually. All it took was a slight flick of his hand, and Casimirs dagger would appear, stuck in the mans throat. But he was officially part of this Imperial Military, and he was no cold murderer either. He had rules to follow, and drawing the attention of the authorities was a bad start to his new career.

Casimir reached into his cloak, and pulled out a small coin purse. He shook it, indicating it was full of coin, and he placed it on the bar table. "Does this change your mind?" The man smiled, nodded, and answered back. "Yeah, there is a carriage just outside the city walls. Follow the road until you reach the first left, towards the docks. There should be a carriage there at the turn at this time." Casimir knew not if this was a lie, but he turned and got up off of the stool all in one quick motion anyways. The barkeep looked down at the bar, ready to take the small coin purse, but it was gone. As casimir turned, his cloak provided cover for his quick hand. Casimir was already out the door as the barkeep yelled for the Khajiit to come back and hand over the coin.

---

Casimir did not have to travel far, as he spotted the wooden carriage just at the turn. The carriage driver was fiddling with the harness of the horse, and as he climbed back into the seat, he gasped as he saw Casimir standing on the other side of the horse, with his black cloaks hood back over his face. Casimirs hand came out of his cloak smoothly, and he held the coin purse in his hand. "Does this cover this ones fee for travel to Whiterun hold?" The man nodded, and motioned for Casimir to hop into the back of the carriage. Casimir did so, and thought over his day as the carriage took off down the road.
"Such a chilly place." He muttered to himself. He was not running late, but hopefully bandits were not so numerous in this area.

[Teotan]

Silver Blood Inn

Yahia Al-Ahad was in the wrong place. Too close to the border, too close to the Thalmor patrol he had stumbled upon and had almost taken him back to Valenwood. He had lost them, but he needed to get out of the area. Redguard in Nord country were suspiciously conspicuous, too dark skinned and not used to the cold. The Thalmor had gotten word out most likely. He was screwed. Forsworn worked in the area he had heard. But by HoonDing, he was still alive and still fighting. That was all that had mattered. 

He walked into Markarth, towards the one inn. Looking around, he knew he wasn't the only one looking scared. Various market stall owners had fear in their eyes as well as the large Nord mercenaries. Apparently they had a bandit problem. A big one, judging by a pile of bodies covered in feathers and dried blood. Leather and weapons weren't the most suspicious things in the city. 

As he entered the inn, he saw several men in armor. Most Nord. He saw a piece of parchment on the wall that made his blood stir. It was a Thalmor bounty, placed at their convenience. On it there was a description that he saw matched his. He hoped none of the locals were paying attention to it. He hated killing men, but he would if necessary. 

As he looked around, under the cowl he saw men of only Nord descent. Drinking and eating. Clearly regulars by how they conversed with the help. Not alien. He was in unfriendly territory, with only a bow and daggers to keep him safe. 

Looking around, he saw the strangest thing; an Argonian sitting alone in full steel imperial regalia, except for a dwarven helm that lay upon the table. Excellent. Suspicion would cease to be if they worked together, or at least drop down. Already there was a scumbag mercenary walking over to the poster. Probably hadn't had a good haul lately. Strange, with the trouble of finding mercenary work in the middle of a war zone. One would have thought peace would be harder on them. 

Yahia walked over to the table, trying to act casual and unafraid. 

"Ah, Brother-in-Arms, it's been a while. Friend, how are you doing? How is the business? Family? Friends?"

[Olthar]

Fellglow Keep

Another battle. More dead bodies, dozens of them even, still fresh, too, and they're just burning them. What a waste. And they're all complaining about how few people there are and how poorly guarded the fort was. This place would be impenetrable if I reanimated the entire pile of bodies, but noooo. "That's immoral." Pretentious morons, Andelle sat atop a pile of rubble, with a small stack of scrolls, potions, and other magical goods recovered from inside the fort, looking through them while pondering the recent events, I'm probably the greatest wizard of this age, capable of spells long thought lost to the pages of time, and what do they have me doing? identifying enchantments on some damnable pieces of treasure. I'm not a lowly adventurer out there looting ruins for quick coin, and I don't appreciate being ordered around by some child who's only about three decades old, at best, just because the world can't appreciate my controversial research. Dammit all to Oblivion.

After finishing her identification of the magical items, a task that only took a few minutes, Andelle returned them to the collected equipment stockpile with a note detailing what each of them were and what they did, expecting that it would find its way to Sarrina's hand eventually. Afterwards, she moved inside the fort, heading to the barracks for some rest while hoping to avoid any unpleasant encounters along the way, as she knew that everyone else most certainly hated her.

Though the only one who knew about the specific details behind her joining the Imperatore Manum was Sarrina, it wasn't like her past crimes were some sort of secret. In fact, for several years, she was one of the most infamous people in the Imperial Province, and there were rumors abound that anyone who entered the Imperial Prisons would never walk out again. Even though that was all 30 years ago, she expected most of the others had at least heard about it. Even if they didn't, Andelle wasn't exactly the most "cheerful" of people, and her use of "profane" magic tended to leave a rather sour impression on others. However, Andelle didn't care about such things. She was perfectly content to have the rest of the team ignore her. The only reason she was even here was the fact that it was the only way she'd ever get out of jail or, at least, the only way that wouldn't involve murdering mass quantities of guards and turning her into a convict on the run.

But perhaps Andelle was being too negative about this whole affair; perhaps she should think about it as an opportunity. This "Imperatore Manum" is shaping up to be a sort of "secret police" in a way, and they seem to have even more unrestricted power and authority than the Penitus Oculatus. They're pretty much the right hand of the Emperor, himself, and this could open all sorts of doors for her. If she proves loyal and earns the Emperor's trust, she could be given access to The Imperial Library and perhaps even the Elder Scrolls, themselves. It was certainly a long shot to be sure, but Andelle had several centuries ahead of her and could very much bide her time.

[New Twinleaf]

Caroline flipped through the book on Skyrim, hoping to get some answers on the area in which they would be heading. She yawned; it's no lie that she hadn't slept in days. It was quite noticeably seen in her face with the dark rings below her eyes. She looked back at the fire she had created, and noticed it was close to it's death. She lightly placed her book down, and picked up a bundle of sticks that she had prepared previously, and threw them into the fire. She picked her book back up to read a line in the book that described Skyrim's snowy areas, and she smiled. She always adored the snow, even as a little girl. She closed the book as Alucard entered through the big wooden doors, in which he then explained to her that they were leaving. Looking at him across the room with an almost blank face, she complained sarcastically, "Oh please, could we please stay for one more night before moving on?" She had given a small laugh straight after. She rose from her chair, which squeaked loudly in response, and said "I will collect my things." She walked out to the armory, and looked passively at her ebony sword before putting it into it's sheath. She then placed the combo down and began to dress herself in the steel armor she had received two years prior. Once she had put the armor on, she grabbed her sheathed ebony sword and attached it to her belt.
She walked out of the dimly lit armory, fully geared and ready to travel. She moved back to the main hall of the temple, and began humming The Dragon Born Comes.
"Alucard, are you ready!?" She asked him while getting right up into his face with a big grin.

[New Roman Empire]

Fellglow Keep

Odre Brungstuatorixo was sitting in a chair outside the fort. He had no intention of drinking or sleeping til he finished resharpening his weapons. He looked at the smith who had said he would do that for him. "No, I have certain expectations for my weapons, I will do this myself. So back off mate and get the hell away from me before i slit your throat." Said Odre as he got up and started to sharpen his imperial swords. The blacksmith backed away slowly and walked away. That serves you right, stay away from a assassin/theif. Now I best hurry and do this before he gets back and throws me out. Man, that battle was intense, I wounder what my commander and that Necromancer are doing right now? Then as if on cue, Odre saw her go towards the barracks. Man, I swear she will reanimate something and kill us all one of these days. Then he looked down and noticed his swords were done and then he headed for the barracks and found a nice empty bed. Now, if i could sleep in a bed all the time. But that wont happen.

[Tsarsgrad]

Silverblood Inn, Markath, The Reach

Mayaki sat at the bar, enjoying the wine he had ordered. He had never been much on ale, even after he moved to Skyrim. He sat at the bar, quietly contemplating his time here in Skyrim. He had attended The College of Winterhold, and achieved perfection in the Illusion field, and as a result, mastery over the mind itself. The had attended the Bard's College in Solitude, where he learned to play the flute and lyre, as well as about any song you could ask him to play. But it wasn't just the schooling. Since his time in Skyrim, Mayaki has traveled all across the province. He'd been to every hold, and in every city. Some, like Solitude, he liked. Solitude was a diverse, economically thriving, and most importantly, warm city. Others, like Windhelm, he despised. Windhelm was a cold, miserable place, where the Dark Elves and even his own egg-brothers and sisters where practically enslaved. Although Mayaki usually despised members of his own race, seeing them like this boiled his blood. He figured Markarth was somewhere in the middle of this scale.

It wasn't just above ground that Mayaki had explored. Mayaki had gone through his fair share of Dwemer ruins, where he had picked up various artifacts and oddities for his collection. Mayaki's fascination with the Dwemer had begun back when he was a child in Morrowind, when the Argonians invaded to take advantage of Red Mountain's burning. Before he left, he had taken his favorite items from the collection. This included some Dwarven silverware, a cup with an intricate gear bottom, and of course his favorite helmet. He looked down at his helmet, which he still wore to battle, and to look tough when he needed to. He had actually refitted in and resized it, thanks to his skills in Blacksmithing. Although he had hated his father for making him take the apprenticeship when he was a child, there was no doubt that the skill came in handy. He had even forged his own sword, called Mayashin, Argonian for "Blade of Midnight". Even in its scabbard, Mayaki could see it and its design in his head. He knew that he could just about any fool in half with it, and intended to do so when he got out to fight the Stormcloaks.

As long as he had Mayashin, there wasn't many things that scared Mayaki. Except for charuses, of course. Mayaki had developed an extreme phobia of these creatures after his years exploring Dwemer dungeons. Even with the smallest ones, he was petrified with fear. He was always able to kill them, though. That was about the only thing he was scared of. Hatred, well, that's a different story. Mayaki had learned to hate many things in his lifetime. Even though his family had been very well off, especially after the invasion on Morrowind, Mayaki had always shunned the world. He disliked an despised many of the races across Tamriel, first off being the Khajit. HE hated their culture, their strange raspy accents, and how there was a body of water between Blackmarsh and Elsewhyer because the Argonians couldn't invade. He'd read of a vulpine race that had once lived in Blackmarsh that was similar to the Khajit. They didn't last past the first era. As for other races, his dislike spread to what they had done. He disliked Dark Elves for enslaving other races in the past, he disliked Nords for their racsism today, and the Aldmerris (he usually grouped Altmer and Bosmer together when discussing such things) because of their trying to bring down the empire. Lowest on his hate list where the Redguards. He disliked them for seceeding, but he couldn't really blame them. Just as he made these thoughts, a Redguard slipped right next to him, and talked to him like they where old friends. Mayaki figured immediatly he was trying to blend in, and was hiding from the Stormcloak Silverbloods or the Thalmor. Either way, he was glad to oblige.

"Ah, friend! It's been too long!" Mayaki did his best to make the sort of man-hug he gave him sincere. "As for business, thankfully I've been able to stop all these odd jobs now that I'm in the Legion. I was tired of all that nonsense anyway. 'Ooh, someone stole my sweetroll!' Shut up." He laughed, either from the wine or the poorly told joke. "Here, old friend, let me buy you a round. I trust you're not buying into this Nord mead nonsense, are you?" he asked as the barmaid brought over two bottles of wine. Mayaki pulled out one of his prized Dwarven cups and gave it to this Reguard to dink out of. "It's beneath us to drink from the bottle, come." he said, pouring his into his cup. Dwemer metal had the fortunate property of not effecting whatever drink was inside of it. Probably the reason it was made into a cup in the first place. Naturally, the Redguard was reluctant, but Mayaki motioned that it was safe. After they both finished their first round Mayaki decided he'd get to know this Reguard. "So, friend. You mentioned an old comrade in your letters. What was his name again, I'm always forgetting," this was his way of asking the Redguard his name without attracting attention.

[Krumbia]

Fellglow Keep

Although he was not a man usually involved in direct combat, today he had fought as valiantly as any other. Using his vast knowledge of illusion, Inalo used spells to rally the imperials, and put fear into the minds of Stormcloaks. He was dressed in his grey/brown robes, wielding an imperial sword he had borrowed for the task. He could still remember cutting into the flesh of the rebels, a feeling he was not used to.

He looked down at his new blade, lying on the floor. He picked it up and sheathed it. He looked around at his fellow assasins, noting each one. He had seen most of them before, but again, he was relatively new to the order. He stood up, off the tree stump he was sat on and walked towards the Keep.

On the way he thought to himself. Of all the things he thought he would be doing back when he was 22 and joining the Mage's Guild in Anvil, claiming a Fort in the name of the Emperor wasn't one of them. He had come so far since then, becoming an Expert of the Illusion school, and the owner of the largest private collection of books in Skyrim. The second achievement was more of a personal one, but only a few places in Skyrim did have a bigger collection. The College of Winterhold being one.

But in his many years as a reknown scholar and illusionist, he had never fought a battle on such a scale. With so many dead. He knew a bit about restoration, and used his skill to heal who he could. But he knows if it wasn't for the Manum, there would be so many more dead.

[Teotan]

Silver-Blood Inn

The Argonian asked Yahia about a "comrade mentioned in the letter." While that was good news that he was playing along, he knew the Argonian didn't trust him. One didn't usually trust men who claimed to be friends. The Argonian, however, was kinder than even the cold hearted Nords or the warm hearted Khajiit. Yahia took a sip of what was left the wine, examining the legionnaire. Only a legionnaire would be wearing that armor. What was strange was the Argonian. Argonians had no reason to preserve the Empire. The Empire hated Argonians, segregated them and gave them menial jobs. It made no sense that an Argonian would try and defend what constantly stabbed his people in the back.

He must be asking who in the name of Akatosh or whatever they call it I am. It only makes sense. He thought, hoping he was right. The wine here was better than anything he had drank in the various Thalmor prisons from High Rock to Valenwood. It even beat the taste of freedom as he escaped Valenwood, going north into Skyrim then doubling back toward High Rock. All in all, it had been a long trek to find the commander that did not exist, Sarinna of Valenwood. Her command didn't exist officially, as it was a less tasteful type of command. He knew, they almost recruited him.

"Oh, the Imperial Scout turned pirate when the hammer fell in Hammerfell? Oh, yes, Yahia. Yahia al-Ahad. Last I heard from him, he was looking for his old post in something. It involved fists. He should be somewhere in Skyrim, that was the last letter he sent to me."

Yahia pulled out a scrap of cloth, slowly to not startle the Argonian. He didn't want to face the Thalmor blind if he ever got caught. It was a red piece of cloak, with a faded symbol of the legion. It had been his, before the Thalmor had discharged everyone from the legion. Those against it were murdered. No one had any law abiding way to make any gold, only to resort to things such as piracy. Hopefully, the Argonian would get the message. Hopefully, the Fist would take him back. The same Fist he had turned down to help defend Hammerfell and the Empire's interests there. It was a long shot, but it seemed they would need all the help they could get.

"This was Yahia's. Says it'll help him get into his old post. Say, Yahia mentioned something in his letters to me. It involved an Argonian who had acquired a piece of Dwemer apparel. However, he never mentioned his name. Have you heard of such a man?"

[Dukopolious]

Fellglow Keep

"Excuse me Ma'am, a courier just came from Whiterun, apparently we're due to expect over 30 reinforcements by morning, and your squadron is to collect new orders with it." The young imperial muttered while looking at what looks like a hastily scrawled note. The soldier seemed very stereotypical, his face was pale and clean aside from a few minor cuts and blemishes, his build seemed perfectly average, his uniform looked worn, but not dirty, and his build seemed extremely average. Typical Imperials. With a single look Sarrina had concluded that this soldier was nothing of interest, just another lackey from Cyrodill probably only here to earn some coin. She tilted her head to look at the note and her good eyesight helped in seeing the signature on the note. It was from the Morthal Legate, it seemed that there was to be another rotation soon, due to the fact that normally all commands were given from the Whtierun Base.

Rather than formally dismissing the soldier, Sarrina simply briskly turned and walked away. When looking towards a pile of rubble, she found Andelle sitting surrounded by enchanted items and scrolls. She had always thought of Andelle as the odd one out, she was a brilliant mage, even for her age, but Sarrina still could never fully grasp why she would want to join the legion anyways. After being imprisoned and hated, Sarrina was almost certain someone would simply turn away from those whom opposed her, perhaps even to the Thalmor. Her necromancy however was not much of an issue to Sarrina, she would kill anything dead or alive, yet she respected Andelle's talents, despite the fact that they were mostly illegal.

Sarrina had built a bitter resentment for Altmer among the years, constantly being ordered around like a slave in the Dominion, and the Great War definitely didn't help either. To this day Sarrina didn't regret leaving the Thalmor and joining up with the legion to slay the traitorous elves. Andelle however seemed different, she seemed disconnected and unconcerned for the outside world, as if everything she did was only to forward a personal agenda. Nevertheless, she was a valuable asset to the Manum and could easily slaughter many Stormcloaks if angered.

Rather than stopping and attempting another awkward conversation, Sarrina proceeded to walk on, with her torch light illuminating the area around her. Fellglow Keep seemed like a small rundown collection of stone slabs at first, originally inhabited by rouge mages from the College. Yet somehow the Stormcloaks managed to clear out the rouges and take the base for themselves with minimal casualties. Perhaps their prayers to Talos hadn't gone without notice? She felt drawn to the base oddly, it seemed to have a very magical aura to it, she was sure the Mages in the Manum would enjoy it here.

As the neared the Forge, Sarrina caught sight of one of the newer Imperials in the Manum. He seemed to be refining his swords much to the displeasure of the resident Blacksmith sent from the legion. This brought back memories of a past Orc lover whom was a blacksmith, she despised smiting. In her obliviousness, she had bumped directly into Inalo, whom also seemed lost in thought.

"Oh, my mistake. Sorry." Muttered the Bosmer woman. She managed to gain her balance after nearly falling face first into the dirt. Luckily she was a flexible elf with good reaction time. Looking at Inalo, she could tell he was a mage, his robes looked worn and his hands shakey. It was quite obvious he wasn't experinced with a sword, espcially considering his sword was in the wrong way. She couldn't help but chuckle. "I saw you fighting during the invasion, scaring those Stormcloaks made them scatter, far easier to get a clear shot. Thanks."

[Krumbia]

Inalo looked up from the ground to see his commander, Sarrina. She looked quite stunning, minus the dirt, cuts and bruises. Her armour He put his hand over his leg, in an attempt to hide the blood that was so evident. It was not his blood, but he was not proud of it. "Ah, yes. I did what I could. But I wonder, could I have done more? Alot of young men died today." Getting his mind back into the world, "I'm sorry, I always have these thoughts after a battle;" he lied, "we did well considering the odds, and I congratulate you." Inalo hoped that Sarrina wouldn't see through him. He wasn't used to the bloodshed. Until he had been convinced to join the Legion, he had only encountered the odd incursion on a journey between the holds. But the reality of this civil war had been shown to him today.

[Nyr Hrafn-Heim]

"One moment Caroline, I have to go fetch my armor." He then took a single step back and offered a small smile. When he finished with his jester, he spun on his heels and walked into the small bedroom in which he had been staying before opening up a wardrobe that had a fake back panel. Behind the hidden door was a chest that held both Alucard's armor and a fragment of a staff of order that he used as his version of a mobile alter for his lord. He quickly strapped on the Leather and steel armor before slipping the crystalline fragment into a pouch on his belt and gabbing Perfection . He slid the blade into the scabbard holder on the left side of his waist and made sure it was attached securely. He then returned to Caroline sporting his odd grin as always. "Let us make haste, my dear. We have to find a steed to make our travels easier. Solitude is a long ride away, a week in the least and we have to arrive sooner then later." He turned to the main door and trotted over before pushing it open, allowing the sting of freezing wind to enter the once warm chambers. He then turned one last time and cast an ice spike spell on the main fire, extinguishing it. He held the door open, waiting for Caroline to go out first. "Ladies first." He stated plainly.

[Tsarsgrad]

Silverblood Inn, Markarth, The Reach

Mayaki looked as the scrap the Redguard, whose name he now knew was Yahia al-Ahad, had showed him. He knew immediatly what this meant for the Redguard. "He must have been on the run from the Thalmor," he thought. Even if he saw the Thalmor as the lesser of the evils when Stormcloaks where involved, he hated them all the same. When he mentioned if he had ever heard of an Argonian who collected Dwemer things for the sake of getting his old post back, he knew he'd meant that he wanted back in. He'd have to get word back to Solitude to do that. Looking around, he saw that there were too many eyes are ears to speak any more on the matter. He motioned that they where going to have to speak in private, but he didn't see how they where going to. Suspicious Nords where everywhere, and he feared that Yahia getting up might warrant a Nord recognizing him from a bounty that was posted in the Inn. Mayaki had actually rented out a room for the night. They'd have to speak there.

He whispered, "We have to speak about this in private." As he said this, a brutish drunk Nord yelled out, "Hey, Lizard! What're ya sayin? Say it so we can all hear ya!" The drunken Nord got up and walked to their seats at the bar. He grabbed the back of Mayaki's throat. "Tell me what ya said, or I'll skin ya and make ya into a new pair of boots for ma *hic* daughter." Mayaki began to bare his teeth, although he knew the Nord couldn't see him. It was an instinctive thing for Argonians to do when something like this happened. Mayaki didn't want to make a scene, but he had the nagging feeling he was going to have to. He prepared to draw Mayashin, when suddenly a brawl broke out. A few Nords where battling it out over something Mayaki hadn't bothered himself to worry about. His assaulter looked at him angrily, slapped the back of his head, and said brazenly, "Looks like it's your lucky day, lizard." He ran to see the fight, as did his friends at the table. Mayaki quickly got up, and Yahia did the same. Before they went to his room to talk more, Mayaki put a little poison in the rude Nord's mead. After a second more of thought, he poured the whole thing in. By the next morning, the Nord will be literally defacating his own internal organs out. As they walked to Mayaki's room, a Nord, drunker than the last, noticed them, specially Yahia. "Hey, I know you." he said slurrily. Mayaki and Yahia turned. He knew that if the Nord realized that Yahia was the same man from the poster, they'd both be doomed. So, he quickly cast an Illusion spell to calm the Nord. "This is not the Redgaurd you're looking for." he said commandingly. "This is not the Redguard I'm looking for." the Nord repeating drunkily. Stupid folk where so easy to manipulate, especially when drunk. "Move along." Mayaki said and motioned with his scaly hand. "Move along." the Nord repeated, walking away. Because he was so drunk, he didn't remember a thing the next morning.

Mayaki and Yahia rushed to the room Mayaki had rented out. All of the Dwemer items, including a full set of armor, where in a chest at the foot of the bed. Dwemer metal and broken contraption decorated the walls. It was clear that Mayaki had been here for a while, and had been collecting a while as well. Mayaki had actually come to Markarth because of its well known Dwemer artifacts. Divines know it wasn't for the dozens of Forsworn he had to kill to get there. He even donated a few items, most specifically a genuine Dwemer Mace bought from a Armourer in Whiterun. He had befriended the court wizard of Markarth, an Altmer named Calcelmo, one of the few he didn't outright despise. Calcelmo had given him unrestricted access to the museum, and Mayaki used it wisely. He visited it quite often, studying the artifacts and reading the books on the Dwemer. Mayaki admired the Dwemer for their extreme intelligence, that of which even he couldn't match. No one's mind in this day and age could. He had, however, learned to forge Dwarven Armour and weapons, after extensive studies and his knowledge in Smithing. It was something. He had also stocked the shelves with books on the Dwemer, on shelves meant for mead and blades. He had borrowed or bought all of the books from Calcelmo at one point or another. He had read them all several times, but planned to read them more. He always felt like he had missed something. Not the Calcelmo missed them. The poor elf barely remembered things he needed to remember, let alone who borrowed books from him.

He closed the door, locked it, and turned to the Redguard. He took off the artificial smile to reveal his regular face of calculating curiousity. "Please, sit." he said. "Now, explain to me all of this which you've thrust upon me. Who are you, where are you from, how did you get here, and exactly what do you want with me?"

[New Twinleaf]

Caroline followed Alucard's lead out the door "How thoughtful, thank you." She said in response to his advance. At that moment she walked out into the outer area of the temple. She took five steps out of the door and was immediately greeted with a large rush of cold air. "This is going to be so fun." she said sarcastically before starting down the temple stairs. She didn't want to admit it to Alucard but she was really going to miss Cloud Ruler Temple, and it's warmth. She was really beginning to regret not getting the rest she so very much needed when she could, and she was most certainly not about to ask to stay for one more night. She could not help but to notice the stone walls and stairs and how old they looked with the combination of the snow that covered them and the vines that have overcome the stone foundation it was beautiful. She reached the bottom of the stairs and waited for Alucard to catch up to her. While waiting she looked at the freshly snowed upon trail, and just the way the sun was positioned it made the snow look almost like sand.

[Legital]

Casimir stretched his arm in the back of the wooden carriage, and grimaced ever so slightly. He got into a brawl not too long ago, and the bastard Argonian pulled a dagger on him. The dagger scratched the side of his arm, since he deflected it in time, but it angered him that he was under the influence of mead at that time. If it was not for his already fast reflexes, that knife could have been the end of him.
There was a sudden slight gust of wind, and the air significantly chilled. Casimir pulled the light black cloak tighter to himself, and wrapped his arms around himself. He despised the cold. He didn't mind the clouds and the rain, but if it was a cold rain, it kept him inside.
The carriage was coming up a hill, and on either side were two relatively high hills. It created a sense of unease in Casimir. He was a mercenary, guard, assassin, and many other things, but choke points always gave him some unease. Most soldiers probably felt that way, but Casimir felt it the worse. Especially when you have no idea what is around those hills. Or around the corner, or lurking in that shadow, up in the rafters of the house.
"How much longer do we have?" He said, speaking for the first time since they left solitude. The Nord driving the carriage inclined his head to the side, as to help Casimir hear his answer. "Not too long now." He said with his heavy accent. Casimir nodded to himself, and stretched his back. He then noticed something shiny by his foot, and he reached to pick it up. It was a coin.
Then he heard a rush of air, and then a thud as an arrow sliced through the air above him; his head was there just moments before. The horses neighed, and Casimir looked up in time to see an arrow slam into the side of the Nords head with a slight thunk. The Nord slumped to the side, and Casimir rolled out of the carriage, landing on his side as another arrow landed just where he was before. He heard a shout to his left, and he looked up to see a man dressed in furs running at him with a raised sword. Casimirs heart was pounding as everything happened so quickly, but he was trained and knew what to do. And sitting on the hard earth was not what he should be doing.
In a quick motion, Casimir drew his Orc made dagger and tossed it with such precision and force, it flew into the mans neck, and the man gurgled blood as he stumbled to the ground. Casimir bared his teeth, showing two long incisors on the top of his mouth, similar to a vampires, but not. He pushed himself up with one hand, and ran to grab his dagger as another arrow flew past him. He was an archer himself, but this bandit archer was pitiful. He would have already killed someone in his position.
Looking up, he saw the lone archer atop of the hill, setting another arrow into the bow. "This is the death of you!" Casimir shouted as he began running at the archer with a rather astonishingly speed. Another arrow flew near him, and this one actually hit him. Right in the shoulder, but his leather armor laced with chain mail caught the arrow head, and it did not penetrate his skin. The archer took a few steps back, and then stumbled and fell onto his back as Casimir rushed him. He jumped, switching his dagger in his hand so it was upside down, and he landed on top of the bandit. The Nord screamed, trying to get the Khajiit off of him, and Casimir brought the blade up, and then down on the mans chest.

He stood, panting, and removed his dagger. He ripped the arrow from his shoulder plate, and tossed it aside. He took a step back, and then placed the dagger on his side, opposite of the twin dagger that he did not use. He smelled something, the smell of sweat, and then heard heavy breathing. Just then, he felt the prick of a sword push into the back of his neck slightly. "Cat." The man said, huffing for breath."You'll make a fine rug and cloak." Casimir did not give the man time to react as he ducked, spun on his heel, and delivered a punch to the mans abdomen. The man gasped for breath, and then Casimir kicked the man in the jaw, shattering his neck as it bent back.

His pulse was slowing down now, and Casimir strode down the hill towards the carriage. He noticed that a few feet from the horses lay a dead body. A body of an Imperial soldier. Casimir walked over to it, circling it once, and then knelt down to examine it. He rolled the body over, and a note was hanging out of the soldiers armor breast plate. He removed it, and then looked at the man. Or boy, he should say. The Imperial was young, quite young actually, and Casimir moved his hand to close the boys eyes. He wished he could do more, such as bury the dead, but he could not. He stood, and walked back to the carriage. He unfastened the horse from the carriage, and hopped onto the large beast. It was clear it was not used to people riding it, but that was just too bad for the horse.

Casimir then opened up the note from the dead courier, and read it. Twice, actually. It was clear this was an important message, and Casimir quickly got the horse into a gallop. He should get this to his commander as soon as possible.

[Teotan]

Lizard's Warren
Silver Blood Inn

Yahia had been worried when the drunkard had waltzed over to bother the Argonian. He thought the drunk would bother him since he was wanted by the thuggish Thalmor. Not scared, no, he hadn't been scared since he lost everything. A stint in a Thalmor prison will do that to a person. The constant torture, the smell of blood and feces make everything seem better. The Illusory Chambers took your worst fears, magnifying them to the brink of madness. Although he had never been inside of it, he could still remember the screams. He could remember his cellmate, a Breton without a name spend a day in the room. 

The room was dark and damp. Yahia sat in a corner, whittling down a shiv to use at the first chance of escape. A guard's boots clicked on the floor, announcing an end to the workday.

"You saw the poster out there, by the stone arch. If you're looking for quick gold, turn me in. A warning, though. Most of those things are falsehoods. I never worshipped Talos, and I killed ten Thalmor guards in my escape. Not two. Actually, fourteen by now."

He looked around, at the cold stone walls. It surprised him that someone could sleep in a cell like room. True, there was a fire, but so enclosed and small. It was like a crypt. A wonder the Dwemer could have been so thriving and powerful. Unsurprising that they died out and and disappeared. 

The guard pointed a long hawkish gauntlet to Yahia, saying "Prisoner. You are summoned to the Illusory Chambers for questions on your worship of Talos."

Yahia was mortified, a cold sweat breaking out. His cellmate had gone mad, ranting about how insanity was an emergency exit from reality and how it only took one bad day to reduce the sanest to insanity. The Thalmor bastards were good with magic; the best and most likely better than any human Mage. The difference was mankind had limits. They would not cross lines that the Thalmor crossed in their crusade for superiority. 

Yahia pretended to follow the guard's order, putting his hands forward to be put in chains. His face, contorted in fear and disgust with an underlying thread of mad resiliency was very real. He knew if he walked into the Illusory Chambers, he would die. Not a physical death, but a worse kind of death: the death of the soul. To kill a man was one thing, but to break him to the point of being a beast was horrifically cruel.

The Guard walked straight ahead, with Yahia slogging behind. He hadn't slept in days, sometimes guards pulling them out of their slumber through beatings for the fun of it. Yahia tripped, letting his hand fall into his sandal where he hid the shiv. The guard turned around, slapping him for his "insolence." The blow stung, not only because  it was a low blow, but because the guards and the Thalmor only saw man as dogs waiting to be put down. When the guard turned a corner into the evidence room, Yahia knew it was time. He walked faster, getting behind the guard. He took the shiv and drove it in the spot between the gilded eagle helmet and the feather shaped armor, being rewarded with a spray of blood. 

Yahia searched the body, finding the key and taking the armor. Unlocking himself, he opened the evidence chest and found his old belongings. His leather armor still smelled of the sea, and the blades made of the black glass known as ebony still had their dull glow of magic. His bow and steel arrows felt like the past coming back to him again. One thing was left before he was safe. That thing was somewhere in Skyrim, fighting stormcloaks and could not be found. Wherever her crew went, so did anonymity. He wanted the job they had offered years before.

"I was enlisted in the Legion in Hammerfell, my homeland. Although I was not blindly loyal to the Empire, I knew the Empire would need a different, more mobile and less "honorable" strategy to keep Hammerfell safe. We couldn't rule ourselves that well, we'd been in a constant state of civil war up until the Thalmor came. At that point, all legionnaires were thrown out and the legion in Hammerfell, disbanded. We had no choice but to turn to crime or resist the Thalmor to make a living and keep on living. I chose both. Piracy pays well, and it gave me a chance to fight back."

The fire cracked inside the room. Mayaki, the Argonian, had listened intently. More so, the mentions of "fists" earlier had shaken him. Either he was part of the Emperor's Fist or he was in charge of keeping it suppressed. An Argonian Legionnaire was surely improbable. An Argonian Stormcloak was as likely as Redguard society becoming the guiding force of all Tamriel. 

"You can go ahead and turn me in, but I don't think you will. I do have a few questions of my own. Why so surprised that a Redguard is part of the Emperor's Fist? And secondly, we should probably leave. I am sorry, but I am a danger to you."

[Tsarsgrad]

Silverblood Inn, Markarth, The Reach

Mayaki sat in the small room, patiently listening to the Redguard's story. The room itself was rather small and confined, the two men could barely sit in the room comfortably. Mayaki sat on the stone bed, and the visitor sat on a wooden chair. The Dwemer ornaments didn't make the room any more spacious. Mayaki listened to his whole story, about everything that had happened to him in the custody of the Thalmor. About how he was once a member of the Emperor's Fist, the order Mayaki was part of today. And about his grisly escape. The Redguard told him about the price on his head as well. Fadaman wouldn't turn in a fellow member of the Fist, though. Not if his life depended on it.

For the Redguard's entire speech, he remained quiet. Then, as he finished, Mayaki revealed all. He said, "My name is Mayaki Fadaman. I was born into the Fadaman family, a wealthy and illustrious family in Morrowind, after we came in and conquered it after the burning of the Red Mountain. I, too, am a member of the Emperor's Fist. I enlisted due to what I believe in, in a united Tamriel. I left Morrowind for Cyrodill when I was 20, and I've never looked back. I moved here to Skyrim many years later, partly to get away from the Great War, and partly to crush the Stormcloaks afterwards. I owe my alliegance to the Empire, despite what they've done to my kind in the past, and I won't be satisfied until every last Stormcloak and Thalmor are dead, and the Empire rests on its true place as ruler of all of Tamriel. There is a meeting of the Fist going on in Solitude soon. If I can get you there in time, I'm sure I can pull a few strings."

Mayaki stopped for a moment. That was the most he had talked in a long time, save his conversations about the Dwemer with Calcelmo. He was mostly silent, except for when things needed to be said. This was one of those moments. The Redguard took it all in for a moment, because it was a lot to take in. Fadaman then said, "We do need to get out of here. We'll wait a few hours for things to die down, then we'll sneak out the front gates. We'll have to walk, or steal horses from the stable. Financing a carriage is too risky. Then we'll ride straight to Solitude to get you reinstated." The Redguard agreed, shaking his head.

Elapsed time: A few hours. Time: 2:38 AM

Mayaki and Yahia snuck through the abandoned streets. Both carried all of Fadaman's Dwemer collection, which he refused to leave behind. He had left full payment for the room and instructions to return Calcelmo's books as well. Yahia now wore the set of Dwarven armor to disguise himself on their journey, and he didn't look familiar. Just before they reached the gates, Yahia took his helmet off. "Damn this blasted thing." he said. "Doesn't fit right and it makes my head sweaty." "You'll have greater concerns about your head if you don't keep it on." Fadaman said sarcastically. "Bite me." Yahia replied. Mayaki jokingly bared his teeth. Just as they sat for a moment, they heard a shout and looked up. It was Ondolemar, leader of the Thalmor in Markarth. "Filthy Talos worshiper! Face the Dominion's justice!" He looked at Mayaki. "You too, Fadaman? I should've known." That moment, Mayaki remembered all the times he had been mocked by Ondolemar. Whenever he went to the keep to go to the museum, he would always make a snide and snarky remark. Calling him "Lizard" and "Scales". Granted, these weren't very clever, but they annoyed him nontheless. Now, Ondolemar was running at them. Yahia put the helmet back on, and they both ran. Mayaki turned back and cast a weak shock rune. He had never been much into Destruction, but he had learned that at the college. Apparently, Ondolemar didn't see it. For, as they bolted out of the gates, he triggered it. He fell to the ground, writhing in pain and anguish, yelling for the Thalmor to come apprehend the "Talos worshippers". There was no way his legs weren't broken, which explains why he didn't get up. By the time his men arrived, Mayaki and Tahia had already stolen a horse (Mayaki already had a dapple one he affectionately named Honeycomb, so the stolen one was for Yahia) and were on their way to Solitude. However, their troubles would be far from over.

[Neo Arcad]

Fellglow Keep

The soldiers of the Manum began celebrating, preparing for the inevitably upcoming fighting, or else raiding the wine stores and getting drunk. Some were clearly more veteran than others. A few of the elite Imperial soldiers, however, were raiding a different kind of loot. There was quite a bit of gold to be gotten from looting bodies and rummaging through chests and crates, and inside the fort itself, four troopers were doing just that. Two Imperials, a Bosmer, and a Khajiit had mostly picked the fort clean. The flickering light from their torches illuminated the walls of the fort, as they headed back out. Though their search had not been disappointing, they were all on the lookout for trapdoors or secret passages.

Imagine the glee, then, when an errant glint of light off of a previously-well-concealed hinge betrayed a secret chamber. The unofficial leader of the gang of pillagers, Garullus Verus, spoke up. "Look for pressure plates, or some sort of switch. It'll be in this room, I'm sure." The raiders, all agreeing, set about smashing boxes and shifting crates. After a few minutes of this, during which there were a few barrel-related incidents, the Wood Elf exclaimed, "I've got it! Here it is, it's the switch!" Sure enough, behind a toppled stack of containers was a lever. Throwing caution to the wind, the other Imperial yanked on it.

The suspect panel did indeed swing open, revealing a small storeroom with several chests in it. But as Garullus foolishly rushed in to claim what he assumed was a great treasure, a scrawny Nord who had been waiting in the shadows leapt upon him and slit his throat with a shortsword. This hidden assailant turned to attack the Bosmer, who, being an archer by trade, panicked and ran. However, the one-man attempt to retake the fort for Skyrim was halted by the armored fist of the Khajiit, Ra'ksadar. The unarmored Nord was sent reeling, and a follow-up swing knocked him out cold.

A minute later, the door to the exterior of the fort was thrown open. Out strode Ra'ksadar, dragging the limp Nord with one hand like he was a sack of rotten potatoes. Following him was the Bosmer and Imperial, carrying Garullus on a makeshift stretcher. Or, rather, his body. Nothing could be done about slit throats, even in the Fourth Era. "Commander Sarrina. I have a live one for you." he said, his powerful and robust (if typically gravelly) voice echoing slightly off the walls of Fellglow Keep. "He was hiding in a secret storeroom. I'm afraid he got Garullus before I could do anything." the musclebound Khajiit stated. His tone betrayed no emotion, mostly because he had no sadness to express. They'd lost plenty of men that day. Garullus was lucky; he'd barely known what hit him. Some of the others, who were mortally wounded instead... they'd suffered before the darkness consumed them. Ra'ksadar shook his head, returning to the task at hand. "What are your orders, Commander? Should we make him talk and bleed, or just execute him?"

[Nyr Hrafn-Heim]

Alucard followed Caroline closely, trying to get some residual body heat off her but to no avail. He frowned and removed one leather glove before starting warm yet small fire in the palm of his hand before smiling. "Caroline, my dear, if you are as chilly as I then perhaps you should come closer. I am about to cast a spell to surround myself in fire and it would be a shame to have you caught in its heat. It would be such a waste of beauty." He said flirtatiously. He offered a small smile before tugging her to his side and casting the spell that covered the area around them in a thin fire layer just hot enough to keep the cold out, but not set anything ablaze. The snow around them melted, of course leaving a thick trail of where they had been but Alucard didnt mind. He didnt like the white powder anyways. It never left an even pattern anywhere. Always random lumps of snow and ice here or there. It was lacking order, something Alucard detested.

As the pair began to walk down the massive mountain to reach Bruma, Alucard checked his coin purse to see how much money he had. to his displeasure he only had 2500 Septims. "Caroline, we only have enough money for a single horse. That last stop in the Imperial city has drained my purse of all of its wealth. And the money you carry we will need for food. I believe if we get a sturdy war horse we would be able to travel to Solitude on the same steed so long as was drop any unnecessary weight such as books and unneeded trinkets." He said with a sigh. "At least one strong warhorse will be faster and live longer then two weak bay horses..." He commented, trying to find a good in the bad. As they continued to walk the end of the hill came into sight and the mile walk to Bruma was just about all that was left between them in Skyrim. This pleased Alucard for he knew that for a slight while they would pass though the warmer and less snowy areas of the country. In fact, the the thought alone made him go from a slow walk to a hasty jog, forcing Caroline to jog beside him as to avoid being burned by his fire cloak.

[New Twinleaf]

As they walked down the massive mountain, Caroline got as close to Alucard as humanly possible in attempts to stay warm "What a wonderful idea casting magic to keep us warm." She said looking at him blushing. As they walked she looked behind them, the trail that was once covered in snow was now clean with no evidence that there was snow there. Why must we be wasting perfectly good snow? she thought to herself sighing.

They pair walked to Bruma, Alucard mentioned to her that they had enough money for one good horse, he recommended a warhorse, she agreed.
At one point she had to begin running due to the fact that Alucard got exited, and she most certainly didn't want to get burned by the flame shield that would most likely look beautiful from the outside. They were now on the trail that lead to Bruma, it was not much longer until they reached the gates of Bruma. "Alucard would you kindly release your fire shield?" she said as they moved to closer to the gates.

[Teotan]

Road to Solitude

Yahia road, not looking back at the Thalmor they had left behind. He could remember the sound of his legs snapping in a way that would have been obscene, had he not been old and experienced in his arts of murder. The look of nothingness in his eyes even in pain did nothing for the Thalmor. Yahia would remember that look of condescension that elf had in his eyes, a look one gave a lesser being, forever. 

They rode through the foothills of the Reach, heading North. The mountains loomed in the distance and on all sides as they reached the Dragon Bridge. The river flowed swiftly, sending green white sprays of water against the banks of the river. The cottages that lay past the bridge puffed out smoke like men with clay pipes, enjoying a few moments of leisure between storms and wars that had left their marks on the sides of the homes and businesses, wearing them down and dulling the colors of the paint and flags. The Bridge itself was an impressive work in Yahia's mind, unlike other bridges that the empire used. The arch was solid stone, with a simplistic stone dragon carving that seemed to enhance the bridge. Questions ran through his mind, most pointless. One made sense: Will the Stormcloaks be willing to destroy their cultural heritage their forefathers created in order to gain a brief tactical advantage? 

It made no sense why they wouldn't. All they seemed to want was power, destroying an established system and going head to head with their "oppressors", the Thalmor. Yahia agreed with killing Thalmor. He had done it, and almost had to do it again. He was disappointed, almost, in not having to kill another Thalmor. Even if that would have brought more attention to him, Yahia would have done it. It had become too personal, with all the people they had imprisoned, the destruction of many Alik'r. It had become personal. It would never stop being personal until the last Thalmor lay bloodied and dead, and until the Empire returned to finish the Aldmeri Dominion. It would never stop being personal. 

They reached the inn sometime in the early morn, when it was still dark. The red robes of the Hold guards indicated they were in Haafingar Hold, the Hold of Solitude. One step closer to reinstatement. 

"Mayaki, we should stop to rest. And change attire, since I am sure the Thalmor will be looking for a Redguard in Dwemer armor. Not an Argonian." Yahia smiled, taking off the hot and heavy helmet. He never liked heavy armor. Made stealth very hard to accomplish, something poor quality Redguard mercenaries were famous for doing. If you weren't spoken about in hushed tones as if you had been a ghost, then you had done it wrong. 

Mayaki nodded, stopping his horse at the edge of town. Yahia walked over to the inn when he saw a carriage. A blessing from HoonDing. Surely the Thalmor would be looking for a man and an Argonian in Dwemer armor. They had to be. Yahia spoke to the carriage driver while Mayaki was waiting over by the inn door. 

When he got over to Mayaki, the Argonian asked, "What was that about?" He looked worried under the armor. Quite honestly, Yahia knew he was fighting dirty. Dishonorable. Unclean. Below the belt. A stab to make bloodlines run cold. Yahia didn't care, fighting fair didn't win wars. 

"We're currently on the road to Riften." Yahia looked at the carriage, watching it pull out and slowly clop away. Dust rose into the darkness of the night, pierced only by torches and bronze braziers filled with fire and logs. 

"Once he's there, the Thalmor will think we joined the Stormcloaks or disappeared into the Ratways. They'll spend months tracking our nonexistent bodies there." Yahia laughed, finding it funny. They would be free. 

"We still need to change armor, in all seriousness."

[Olthar]

Fellglow Keep

Andelle lay down upon one of the bedrolls available, her body agonizing with discomfort. She had spent three whole decades of her life sleeping on a pile of rags in a prison cell, yet this bedroll was still worse. It could barely even be called a bedroll, and she may as well have been sleeping on the hard, stone floor. Hell, the floor was probably more comfortable. Andelle swore in her heart that some day, she didn't know when, she'd kill that Bosmer bitch for making her sleep on this thing. It amazed her that these things were apparently "standard issue;" the Imperial Legion high command must be full of psychopathic sadists just laughing in glee as they forced their troops to sleep on these bedrolls of evil.

After a few minutes trying to get to sleep, Andelle simply stood up and said, "No."

With that, she picked up the bedroll and walked outside, angrily pushing aside the other soldiers who got in her way. Upon arriving outside, she walked over to a chunk of broken wall protruding from the ground and threw the bedroll at it as hard as she could, causing it to uselessly smack against the stone and fall to the ground. Then, aiming her hands in the direction of the bedroll, they began spewing a gout of fire at the vile thing, igniting it in flame. As she burned the thing to a crisp, Andelle started laughing hysterically, joyous in her victory.

[Tsarsgrad]

"Well played, old friend." Mayaki said, half sincerely, half snarkily, as they weren't really old comrades. Nonetheless, they definitely had grown at least somewhat close on their adventure so far. "A Redguard and an Argonian," Mayaki though, "What an odd pair." Yahia brought up the point that they would need new armor for the trips ahead, to stay under the prying eyes of the Thalmor. Mayaki would wear the Dwarven Armor, and Yahia would don Mayaki's legion armor with a cowl to hide his face. "I see what you mean about this armor," Mayaki said. He had always kept it as decoration, not for actual use. He knew he'd be able to stow it away once they got into the Hand's headquarters in Solitude. "Alright, let's rest and recuperate in that in over there." He pointed at the Inn that was in the Dragon's Bridge village. It was one of the few structures in the town itself.

Mayaki remembered the Bridge from the first time had had voyaged to Markarth. It was very impressive to him, such a large and amazing structure from a people as simple as the Nords; Ancient Nords no less. Until his exodus to Markarth (partly to check out the Dwemer artifacts and partly to work for the Fist as an informant against the Stormcloak Silverbloods and the Thalmor), he had been living in the Winking Skeever in Solitude. It was an interesting experience, living in Solitude. In the years preceeding his joining the Legion and the Hand, he had been enrolled in the Bard's College. There he learned to play the Lyre, Lute, and Drum perfectly, and to play about any song. His years in Solitude where some of his best. It was a warm place, and one of the few places where they didn't look at you funny for being an Argonian. That idiot at the street corner trying to recruit people to his crime syndicate wasn't helping his image as the only other Argonian, so he pointed him out to the city guards. No one heard from him again.

Mayaki and Yahia sat in the tavern, drinking and talking in the corner, strategizing and explaining what's to come. Then, the Bard started singing. By the Gods, it was the worst thing Mayaki had ever heard in his entire life. His teeth bared instinctively to the terrible noise. He got up, snatched the Lyre from the Bard, and said, "Let me show you how it's done." He cleared his throat, and began to sing his favorite song he'd learned at his time in the College. The Age of Aggression.

We drink to our youth, for days come and gone,
For the Age of Aggression is just about done.
We'll drive out the Stormcloaks and restore what we own,
With our blood and our steel we will take back our home.

Down with Ulfric, the killer of kings.
On the day of your death we will drink and we'll sing.
We're the children of Skyrim, and we fight all our lives,
And when Sovngarde beckons everyone of us dies.
But this land is ours and we'll see it wiped clean,
Of the scourge that has sullied our hopes and our dreams.

Down with Ulfric, the killer of kings!
On the day of your death we will drink and we'll sing!
We're the children of Skyrim, and we fight all our lives!
And when Sovngarde beckons everyone of us dies.

We drink to our youth, for days come and gone,
For the Age of Aggression is just about done.

Mayaki winked and smiled at the attractive Nord barkeep that had dropped the mead she was carrying. Normally Argonians had throaty and raspy voices, but Mayaki had trained his to be wonderful and medoldious whilst singing. It was obvious he had stunned everyone in the Inn, including Yahia, with his song. "Um, I'd like to purchase a round for that fellow and his friend," an Imperial sitting on bar said. "Normally we pay the bards a septim or two to play a song. I feel rather obligated." "Many thanks," Mayaki said. "It was a pleasure." "S-so what'll you have?" the barkeep asked. Some women always fall for a good singer, no matter what race he was. "I'll have some spiced wine, beautiful." he said, kissing her hand. She shivered. "A-and you sir?" he asked Yahia. Yahia did his best to answer without bursting into laughter. "Same," he said, smiling. "Good, I'll get right back with those." she said, turning to smile at Fadaman. "I thought you hated Nords," Yahia inquired after she walked away. "I hate what the Stormcloak Nords are doing. These Eastern Nords are just about Imperials in custom, and even their speech. Didn't you notice that you didn't feel like you needed a translator when these people are talking? By the Divines, I love it here." "Your wines," the barkeep said. "Many thanks." Mayaki replied. "Hey, I never did catch your name, beautiful. What is it?" She smiled again. "My name's Elsa. I was born here, and I've lived my whole life here. I bet you've been all over this big-wide world." She leaned over and put her elbows on the table, to purposefully show her breasts. "Indeed," Fadaman responded. "I'd love to tell you all about them sometimes. Although I fear it may take a long-" he ran his finger up her throat and to her face. "Time." "I have all the time in the world," Elsa responded sedctively. Yahia did a bad fake cough to remind Fadaman of why they where here. Fadaman looked at him, and back to Elsa. "But I fear it cannot be tonight. I must go with my friend here on an important task, and I'll need my sleep. I fear we'd be up all night if I where 'talking' with you." Elsa released another involuntary shiver. "Yes, I understand," she said quickly, slightly dissapointed. "I'll just get back to my tables then." After she left, Yahia burst into laughter. "How did this", he pointed to Mayaki's scaly arm, "Get that?" he pointed to the Nord barmaid, who was standing in the corner, looking at Fadaman. "What can I say? Ladies love the songs." Fadaman responded, taking some of his drink. Yahia laughed and shook his head, taking a bite from the Horker he'd ordered earlier.

Later, the two retired to the rooms they'd rented respectively. Mayaki read some of the books he'd brought. Yahia doodled on some paper he'd found in a drawer and some charcoal. Elsa checked in on Mayaki. Mayaki insisted she couldn't stay, and just as he did this, they could both hear Yahia laughing from him room. Elsa left the room, slightly confused. The two both drifted to sleep at about nine, and woke up at around six. Well, to be more accurate, Mayaki shook Yahia awake at six. They both loaded up their steeds and prepared to go. Elsa had awoken to see them off. "You will be careful, won't you?" she asked. "I promise you, I'll be as careful as possible." "For a member of a secret military order," Yahia said under his breath. Elsa either didn't hear him or didn't care. As they departed, Elsa planted a huge kiss on Fadaman. Mayaki was suprised at first, but started to get into it. Only Yahia's strong fake cough brought him to reality. They said goodbye, mounted on their steeds, and rode off to Solitude. Yahia laughed for a few minutes straight after they rode away.

The two arrived at the gates of Solitude at about noon. As the tied up their horses at the stable, a guard nearby sarcastically quipped, "Let me guess, someone stole your sweetroll?" Mayaki quickly responded. "Nigh, for the sweetroll is a lie." The guard stoop up better, as if suddenly something had changed. Yahia knew the Fist used codewords when trying to sneak in somewhere, and this was probably one. The Guard responded, in a hushed tone. "They said you'd be coming. You've attracted too much attention from the Thalmor, though. Jump in these barrels." the guard pointed to two barrels in the back of a horsedrawn carriage. Mayaki, standing at a little more than five and a half feet (typical for Argonians) fit in easy enough. As a child, he'd been very flexible. This carried into his adulthood as he hid in the barrel. The Reguard had more trouble.

The carriage rode through the city, as Mayaki remembered all the smells and sounds of Solitude as if he had left yesterday. The smell of freshly baked bread from the Winking Skeever, to the sounds of singing and music from the Bard's College. He also smelled a combination of fish and spiced wine as they passed the market stalls. He remembered he and his old buddies from the College would go and buy spiced wine late at night and party. He smiled in the dark barrel as he reminisced about the old times. As the carriage approached Castle Dour, it was stopped by a group of Thalmor. To his horror, Mayaki heard Ondolemar's voice barking orders, as well as the clacking of what must have been crutches. "Stop there, guard." he said commandingly. "We need to 'inspect this cargo before you can enter." "This is unjustifiable and illegal!" the Guard protested. As he spoke, the Thalmor stuck their blades into every sack on the carriage. "Hey, this is important cargo!" he yelled. "I'm sure it is." Ondolemar remarked uncaringly. "Get that chest too. Don't forget the barrels!" he added. Mayaki's heart sank. Blades were violently thrusted into the barrels. Somehow, by the fortune of the Gods, none struck him. From a hole made by a Thalmor blade, he could see none hit Yahia either. He thanked Julianos, the main deity he worshopped, for their fortune. "Very well." Ondolemar barked. "Carry on." As the carriage rode away, Mayaki cast a telekenisis spell and hit Ondolemar in the back of the head with a rock. "Who did that?" he yelled. A child playing in the streets responded, "The barrel did it!" "Do not mock me, child," Ondolemar responded.

The barrels where unloaded and brought into the castle. The barrels where dumped out, and the two stood up. They where before the leaders of the Hand in Skyrim.

[Tsarsgrad]

Castle Dour, Solitude, Haafingar Hold

Mayaki and Yahia arose after being tossed from their barrels. They looked back and saw the full extent the Thalmor did to the barrels. It was honestly a miracle they hadn't gotten stabbed. The room where they were meeting was lit up by a few torches, and some windows at the top of the walls. It was obvious they where in the basement of the castle, but not the dungeon. The leader of the Fist stepped forward. "Well, Agent Fadaman, I hope you've a good reason for almost exposing us over in the Reach." He was an Imperial, and a tall one at that. Mayaki spoke with unshakeable confidence, "Why yes, I do. This man here is named Yahia al-Ahad. He is a former member of the Fist. After being discharged, he was forced to turn to a life of piracy. He was soon after captured by the Thalmor. Then, he killed his imprisoners and escaped. He's come here now, despite our abandoning of him, to fight for the Hand once more. I trust you'll reinstate him as soon as possible?" he asked. The Imperial stood for a moment, thinking. "Fine, Fadaman," he said finally, "We'll take him back." Yahia and Mayaki turned to one another. Yahia thanked him for getting him back into the Fist, and turned to the Imperial and thanked him for re-admitting him. "Well, for all your bone-headedness Fadaman, looks like you two did something right after all. For some reason, the Thalmor think you're in the Rift. They're devoting a lot of resources there, which explains the cripple you probably encountered when you entered. Thalmor says you 'Talos worshippers' are responsible for that. Is that true?" For a moment the two just stood and looked at each other. Then, Mayaki spoke. "Yes, that was me. I cast a weak shock rune as we where fleeing. In his pursuit, he must not have seen it." The Imperial looked at Fadaman, first with slight frustration, then laughter. "Good on you, Fadaman. That one's the most annoying one I've met yet. And that includes the bitch at the embassy," he said laughingly. His face went back to being serious. "Now, you two are going to have to spend a day or two down here until they calm down. We actually have arranged for the Thalmor to discover some "evidence" near Riften, pointing them to the Ratway. They'll divert their resources, and we can get everything taken care of. Any questions?" Mayaki rose his hand. "Can I get my Dwemer things back now? I believe they where in the carriage with us." "Indeed you can Fadaman. What's left of it, anyway," the Imperial responded. Mayaki's eyes widened.

"Those bastards!" Mayaki said, half hissing. " They took half of the silverware, three of my plates, and by greaves!" He stored the rest in a chest at the foot of a bed the Fist had brought down. Apparently they prepared for this sort of thing. The room itself wasn't bad, although it was obvious it had been built for function over comfort. There where five beds in a room that would normally host 2 or 3. They all had bedside tables and chests at the the feet of the bed, as well as a bookshelf on one end of the room stocked with old Imperial and Nord tales and histories. A few blank manequins stood as points for storing armor. "Relax, Fadaman." the Imperial said. "We'll get your stuff back. The Thalmor does this kind of thing all the time. We always get it back, though." Mayaki grumbled as he looked through the rest of his belongings. Thankfully, his armor, helmet, and Mayashin where all in perfect condition. He put the armor up on one of the manequins, and stuck Mayashin under his bed. Just in case. During their time under the castle, Mayaki figured he'd read up on Skyrim's tales and history. Although he knew it well, he never really cared for it. He always thought it was like the Stormcloaks; Brutal, Violent, and Chauvanistic. There where a few tales he enjoyed reading, though. The Tale of Yngvol, The Legend of Red Eagle, and The Legend of the Nightingales where his favorites. While he read, Yahia talked with the Fist leaders about the re-instatement ceremony.