The Elder Scrolls: A Prophecy Fulfilled [IC] [OPEN]

[New Finnish Republic]

The Elder Scrolls: A Prophecy Fulfilled

OOC

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OP: New Finnish Republic
CO-OPs: Ka Ek Akai and The Armed Republic of Dutch Colonies

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When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world
When the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped
When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles
When the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls
When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding
The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn.
-The Book of the Dragonborn

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Thalmor Prisoner Convoy
En Route to the Thalmor Embassy

The shouting of orders. Metal clashing as sword and shield collided. The dying cries of the wounded, unheeded by those still fighting.

“There’s too many!”

“Why are the Thalmor here? We were told that this was just a regular supply convoy!”

“Where’s the commander?!”

“For Skyrim!”

Blood fills my vision as I see my friends and comrades being cut down in front of me. I reach out to try and save them but it’s too late. Their heads roll across the snow covered ground, their insides spewed about, cuts run up and down their bodies. The life is gone from their eyes, and I know I will soon be joining them.

Sure enough, I see an arrow fly towards me, almost in slow motion. I’m able to avoid it, but I choose to instead stand where I am. Why should I live, when so many others have fallen? No, I will accept my fate. Arms wide open, I make it so that the arrow will strike true, and I close my eyes while I await my end.

The sound of the arrow striking true fills me ears, but I feel no pain. I open my eyes, only to see them meet another pair of striking blue eyes. It’s Emily’s. I feel my mouth open in shock and horror, but all that is seen on her face is a small smile. She mutters out a single word, even as I can see her soul leave her body.

“Live.”

“Einar. Einar. Einar! Wake up!”

My eyes snap open as I’m shaken awake, my heart still pounding as I lock my gaze with those same pair of blue eyes from before. For a split second, I think that I am dreaming again, and panic begins to return to me. However, a jolt from the seat below me makes me remember where I was.

I, along with over a dozen others, were stuck in a wooden wagon that was surrounded by an entourage of mounted Thalmor Justicars. Our hands were bound together and we had been stripped of any armor we previously possessed, leaving even myself freezing in the frigid conditions that my homeland was known for. My eyes went back to Emily’s face which visibly showed her concern.

“Einar, you were thrashing about in your sleep and then suddenly you went limp. The guards told me to wake you up before they’d do it themselves, and we both know what that would have meant.”

Her voice suddenly got quiet.

“Was your dream about...?”

She trailed off at the end of the question, but I knew she was referring to their failed ambush the day before. I opened my mouth but found myself unable to speak, eventually settling for a small nod. Emily seemed to relax a bit, understanding why I was so upset. They’d lost a lot of good people that day all because of bad information.

Emily glanced about, ensuring that none of the guards were looking at us before whispering into my ear.

“I’ve counted two dozen guards, a dozen of them on horseback and the remainder riding on the other wagons, including the one that they threw all of our gear in. I don’t know how close we are to wherever they’re taking us, but it must be close as they haven’t stopped to rest for the night. If we’re going to do something, now’s the time, since once we’re locked up they’ll be no way of escaping.”

The evening light make it hard to see in order to get a good count, but Emily’s estimate on their guards’ numbers seemed to be correct. I noted that a few had already lit torches, meaning that they indeed were planning on travelling throughout the night. They seemed more bored than anything, no doubt annoyed that they were forced to travel in these freezing conditions. With the sun beginning to set, the temperature was rapidly beginning to drop. These Dominion Dogs were used to much warmer conditions, so seeing them suffer from the weather was at least somewhat fulfilling to see.

“Anything useful you think we could use to our advantage, Emily?”

Emily shook her head, a frustrated look now on her face.

“Not from what I can tell. They’re fairly spread out and while they seem to be a bit weary from all the travel, I doubt that we’d get through even one of the bastards before we’d find a bouquet of blades and arrows embedded in our backs. Not to mention they have at least four or five magic users, and we both know how unfair they fight.”

Emily gritted her teeth, the weight of the situation weighing down on her. Indeed, I felt it too, as I myself had no idea what we would be able to do. Our hands were bound with rope, they had no weapons, and they had no idea if the people with them would even help them escape, even though doing such would be their only chance at avoiding a painful death at the hands of the Thalmor interrogators. Our only chance would be if they could distract the guards long enough to make a break for it. However, being this deep into Imperial-held territory meant any chance at rescue was non-existent.

I let out a frustrated groan, loud enough that the guard riding nearest to us noticed.

“Keep quiet Stormcloak, unless you want your trial to be held right here and now with myself as the judge, jury, and the executioner.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at that, even as I knew doing such a thing was only going to make things worse.

“Oh, like I expect anything different once you bring me to our destination. We all know how you operate, Dominion Dog.”

The Thalmor guard, as was expected, seemed to not appreciate this, as he began to reach for his sword.

“Why you-”

He was interrupted, however, as his mounted suddenly went up on its hind legs, letting out a screech as its eyes stared at the darkness ahead. The Thalmor, confused as to what was happening, turned his head to find the source of his mount’s fear before an axe suddenly found itself embedded in his chest. The Thalmor tried to gurgle out something, but all that came out was a spurt of blood before he fell from his saddle. This gained the attention of the Thalmor behind him, whose eyes widened in surprise. She was able to scream out a single warning before several arrows embedded themselves all across her body, causing the elf to slump over in her saddle.

“Ambush!”

The cry brought the entire convoy to attention, but it was too late for them to react as from the shadows of the night several figures leaped out from the shadows. These figures wore black hoods which concealed their faces as they slashed out at the Thalmor who were completely caught off guard. All of the wagons, including the one the prisoners were riding in, stopped in their tracks as their guards attempted to defend themselves from the onslaught.

I had no idea who these ambushers were, but nor did I care. I locked eyes with Emily for a brief second, the two of us knowing what we needed to do. I hopped out from the cart and ran over to the guard who still had an axe embedded in his chest. I used to free side of the axe’s blade to cut through the rope that had bounded my hands and then reached for the dagger that was strapped to his waist. Once I had it, I looked back to the cart where Emily was. Several other prisoners had made a break for it as well, while the others remained in the cart seemingly not knowing what to do. I tossed the dagger up towards Emily, who managed to catch it.

“Emily, use this to cut yourself and the others free! I’m going to get our stuff from the other cart!”

Emily gave a small nod before going to work on her bindings. I looked back down to the dead Thalmor before me, his eyes still displaying shock even in death. I had no pity for the elf, and nor did I feel any guilt as I yanked the axe from his chest. I noticed that the axe possessed several odd designs that I didn’t recognize as being made by any blacksmith in this area. It seemed to almost possess a...aura, one that filled myself with a sense of dread. I quickly shook off this feel, instead focusing on the task at hand.

Running towards the direction of the cart, I tried to avoid getting caught up in the fighting. The Thalmor had managed to recover from the initial surprise of the ambush, but at a considerable cost as almost half of them had been slain. While most were busy fending off their unknown assailants, two of them were still guarding the cart which contained the items that belonged to myself and the rest of the prisoners.

As a I approached, one of them noticed me and shouted out to the other. I gritted my teeth as I continued to charge forward as they hastily turned to face me. Swinging my axe, I attempted to go with a low cut towards the first one’s legs, managing to knick his calf as I did. At the same time, I reached out with my other arm and pinned the second Thalmor’s arm so that he was unable to swing. The first Thalmor, now put off balance with his fresh wound, attempted to thrust his sword towards me. However, I was banking on him doing just that, as I jerked the second’s Thalmor’s arm in the way, causing the blade to pierce through it. The elf screamed in pain, dropping his weapon as he did. I let go of my grip on his arm and instead delivering a barehanded blow to the first’s face, knocking him further off balance to the point he tripped over. The second one, realizing what had happened, tried to retrieve his weapon from the ground, but before he had a chance I sliced through his exposed neck, nearly decapitating him as I did. The first one, still on the ground, tried to scramble away, but I quickly finished him off as well.

The guards now dealt with, I unhitched the back gate of the cart as well as removed the tarp from the top of it. As much as I hated the Dominion, I had to respect how neat and organized they were, as each prisoners’ gera were separately organized form each other. I grabbed the bag which contained my armor and threw it over my shoulder, grunting all of the weight was put on at once. I reached for my greatsword, glad to see that it hadn’t taken too much of a beating from my last use.

The fatigue already beginning to set in, I struggled to keep my breath steady as I began to make my way back to where Emily and the rest were. It appeared that Emily had freed the rest of the group, some of which stuck around while the others scattering. I frantically began to wave my arms to get her attention, which she eventually noticed. She began to rush over towards me, as did a few others whom she had freed. I bit my lip, not knowing if it would be good for these strangers to find themselves with weapons in their hands once more. I debated whether or not it would’ve been better to try and kill them myself before they had a chance to betray us, but at this point I knew getting stuck in a fight would only increase the odds that either the Thalmor or whoever they had picked a fight with were going to get to them. So instead, I waited for Emily and the others to arrive, pointing them towards the cart as I yelled at them with a sense of urgency.

“Your stuff should be in there! Don’t bother throwing on any armor, it’ll take too much time. Have your weapons ready in case we need to fight, but avoid getting caught up in this if you can!”

I received a mix chorus of responses, some verbal, some physical, and others nothing at all. I didn't care, as long as we could get out of this warzone. I could see that the Thalmor were holding their own at the moment, but they were quickly becoming overwhelmed as their initial losses had been too great. It appeared that whoever these assailants were were indeed not to be trusted, as I saw several prisoners be cut down by the unknown group.

“Einar, we’re ready!”

Behind me, Emily and the others appeared to have assembled all of their gear. Emily normally wore lighter armor, so her bag didn’t seem to weigh her down nearly as much as mine did, something I was okay with as it meant she’d be able to get away quicker than I would. I nodded in response, prepared to run, before looking at the others that were present.

“If you are no enemy of the Stormcloaks and promise to not betray us, I promise free shelter once we make it into friendly territory.”

Nobody seemed to object to the offer, and so I began to sprint away from the ongoing battle and towards where I hoped was East. I could hear the breathing of several others behind me, which meant that at least a few of these members had decided to tag along. I prayed to Talos that they could be trusted, but at the moment he doubted they’d be stupid enough to try anything as they fled for their lives.

They had made it several dozen yards before a wall of flame suddenly appeared in front of them, forcing them to stop suddenly. Before they could try and turn around, additional walls of flame erupted all around them until they were completely surrounded. I cursed out loud as I dropped my bag of gear at my feet and prepared to defend ourselves from whatever was next. The others seemed to have the same idea, as they joined me in a loose defense circle as we awaited for the attack.

The wall of flames in front of us suddenly seemed to open up like a curtain, revealing the figure of one of the masked ambushers. However, this was less of a concern for me, as flanking this figure was beings I immediately recognized as something something not of this realm. They were clad in dark black armor from head to toe with two large curved horns protruding from their helmets. A deadly aura seemed to surround them, one that chilled me to the bone.

The masked figure in front cocked his head, almost in amusement, before suddenly  pointing towards Emily.

“Capture the girl, do whatever you want with the rest.”

The two armored beings obeyed the ordered immediately, walking towards our group immediately. The masked figure stood back, seemingly waiting for his minions to do the dirty work for him. It appeared that we would be forced to fight their way out of their situation, something I was all too familiar with doing.

I looked over at Emily, who gave me a small nod. We had fought many battles side by side, and we knew each other like the back of our own hands. For whatever weakness one of had, the other would make up for in their own strengths.So although I had no idea just what exactly I was up against, I decided to take the initiative and charge forward, as did Emily.

However, before we could even get close to our opponents, the masked figure’s hands suddenly began to glow as he prepared a spell. Apparently he wasn’t planning on doing nothing at all after all, as his hand slammed towards the ground in front of him. When it did, a bright line began to trace its way towards us until suddenly stopping at our feet and then proceeded to form a magical glyph.

Before I could even react, the ground below me exploded, casting me and the rest of the group into the air like ragdolls. When I landed, I could feel all of the air escape my lungs, stunning me as I lay there unable to move. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the armored figures walk past me, apparently not bothering to finish us off. Instead, they reached down to pick up Emily, who weakly tried to resist before a swift punch was delivered to her stomach, knocking her out. I reached out shakingly with one hand, trying to do anything I could to save her. All I got was a swift kick to the side of my head, causing my vision to blur and my ears to ring as I fell on my face.

As my consciousness began to fade, I hazily noticed a small portal being opened in the air in front of the masked figure. The armored figure, one with Emily tucked in his armed, quickly walked through it, disappearing as they did. The masked figure look back to me one last time, once again cocking his head almost in amusement, before stepping into the portal himself, causing both him and the portal to disappearance. Emily was gone, and it was my fault.

These were the last thought I had before darkness finally overcame me.

---

I eventually came back to, but as my eyes opened, I soon realized I was no longer on the road from earlier. Since I was still alive and appeared to not have any restraints on me, I deduced that someone must have dragged me out of that mess. I was laying down next to what to be a small fire, and I could hear conversation taking place around me.

Emily.

The thought of her name made me suddenly jolt upright, an action that caused my head to immediately begin to pound. I cursed out loud, knocking over several items that had been placed next to me as I did. Once the pain in my head subsided, I looked around to see that the conversation had ended, and now I looked to see a few of the prisoners from earlier were now staring at me. I didn’t bother with an introduction, instead I moved straight to the questions.

“Who are you? Where are we? Where’s Emily?!”

[The Ik Ka Ek Akai]

An indeterminate amount of time ago

Aeralys was crossing the border. She had done so again, and probably would many times would again. That she was quite wanted in Cyrodiil was of no matter- this was not a proper border crossing. She did not pay a guard for expedient access, nor did she have some flimsy and unwarranted excuse- no, no, what she was doing was simply a matter of immigration through unofficial means. It was no small feat, but so long as no guards were around she should be through well enough to make her way to a village or a camp here or there. It was a simple affair, she'd done it before without a hitch and led a very lucrative life in the process. Climbing over the last burdensome hill, she saw the land before her- Skyrim, a true beauty, a land of new opportunities.

Stepping through the misty mountains cold, she was careful to climb down slowly. Her soft leather boots allowed for her to do so quietly, and to easily feel the ground around her and navigate it properly. Stepping down carefully using well-placed rocks to stop her gentle sliding from becoming a tumultuous fall, she managed to navigate to the bottom at last. It was here, she decided, that hills were a pain. She could walk hours, days even, on flat ground, and she could navigate the jungles of the southern continent with ease, but there was something so troublesome about climbing up and down hills- that extra gravity to fight felt as if a world of difference. A painful world of difference.

Stepping into the new land, she searched around the woods for a road. She had not a map to reference, not that she'd be able to track her precise location if she did, though it did not matter. Any amount of wandering would be sufficient to find it, certainly, and following smoke in the sky would do well. Furthermore, following along the border was bound to bring her somewhere of note when all else failed- at which point she could try to hide from whatever gate guards there may be and instead follow until she was beyond their sight. It was all intended to be a very simple affair, a matter of no intensity or trouble that would lead to an easy resettlement in quiet, Dominion-led parts of the continent. The Dominion was always her friend- or at least a convenient excuse to get out of trouble. All she needed to do was say a little about the folly of the races of men and they would do as she needed. Precious, it was, each time it worked in her favor.

Rubbing her gloved hands together, she noticed how chilly it was in these parts of the world. Stumbling her way onto a road, she laughed. Success! That was, until she noticed the Dominion guards staring at her strangely. Now, it may be a little suspicious to see a woman emerge from the forest on the border laughing in glorious triumph, but she tried her best to remedy the situation as they cautiously approached. She explained to them that she had simply gotten lost in the forest, that she had run after stumbling into a Nord poaching camp, and that she was so glad to have found Dominion agents willing to help. They ordered her to hand over her bag, at which she acted shocked, as if her privacy was being violated, anything to cover really. They did not fall for this, and demanded more forcefully that she hand over her bag. With hopes and prayers, she gave it over with a smile, now pretending as if she had nothing to hide.

They opened it and found her belongings. A few weapons of Bosmeri make, which they tossed aside as being cheap tools worth next to nothing. There was likewise a little food for travel. They found also a suspicious amount of jewels, a few chunks of precious metals, and other things that might draw attention to the mysterious circumstances of her situation. With an awkward smile, Aeralys concocted a story about making a shipment to a shop which probably did not exist, but her deliver was so convincing that it bought her all of two seconds before she was roughly grabbed by the wrists and pushed against a tree, threatened with a blade as she was thoroughly wound around with rope and tied thereon. With a jovial facade, she pretended as if it would all be sorted out and they were wasting their time. Had attitudes towards the Bosmer shifted so harshly since she was gone? It could not be so! A guard was sent to the nearby border outpost to verify her presence, and would return soon- it was by then she had to escape lest her entire scheme fall apart.

Standing quite uncomfortably against the tree, she sweet-talked the guards so frequently and so well that they were bloated and overflowing, practically sweating sugar by the time she realized they would not be letting her go. In fact, they shoved a dirty rag in her face to get her to shut up- quite rude one might say, though the Thalmor were hardly known for the hospitality she had expected of them. Within the last 10 minutes she began to put up a fight, struggling against her bonds, beginning to panic. The Thalmor's suspicions were confirmed- it was an illegal crossing for sure, and furthermore her mere description brought up the long list of things that the Imperials had sought to lock her away for. Although the Thalmor were hardly friends of the empire, one so against authority and with such an extensive criminal background was certainly not a favorable citizen.

Undone from the tree only to be bound at the wrists, she was placed officially under arrest by the Dominion and led at bladepoint over the road until reaching something of a Thalmor checkpoint. Loaded onto a cart rather rudely, her small bag tossed into the back of another cart, and the whole machine began moving. Though she felt relief at last for her poor feet, she could not help but to worry. Perhaps, just perhaps, it was because of the wounded soldiers who seemed to be her new companions- swiftly becoming aware of the struggle going on in the background of the land despite little knowledge before, she began to panic especially when she realized that all those in the cart were considered utmost enemies. It was, at best, going to be severe torture, and at worse an outright execution- nothing stopped it, however, from being both. This terrified the thief to no end.

Several hours of weeping and pleading later

Her energy was all but spent. There was no more sobbing, no more begging, no more negotiation- the guards were of utmost strict character and her silver tongue, what she could choke out, had failed her once more. Not the greatest amount of appealing and persuasion would dissuade the Thalmor guards from their duties, and this seemed it. Aeralys had fought her bonds, she fought her situation mentally, she used the full extent of her skill, but nothing seemed to work. What was especially bad were the ropes binding her- were they irons they could be picked, that was always the crucial flaw she could rely on, but with these Thalmor there was no hope except to wiggle and twist and struggle until whatever knot existed in the mess loosened in the slightest- if she did not manage to escape now, her best shot was being shackled to the wall in some dark dungeon, and that was, potentially, even worse of a situation. However, her energy was all spent- she could fight no more.

Taking a moment to soak it all in, Aeralys felt exhausted both physically and mentally. She instead, for just a moment, decided to let herself feel the moment. The soft leather of her boots, pants, gloves, and corset were all quite luxurious- the best crafts in Valenwood that all her stolen riches could buy. The rougher leather, made of deer and with an outer coating perhaps more akin to suede or hide, though lacking neither the suppleness nor the softness and more well-cared on the inside of the item, covered her as something of a gown. Being the main component and outermost layer, the rougher exterior helped both to insulate where necessary and to, moreso than soft leather could achieve, a protective exterior that could defend against mild damages and the elements alike. Not as pleasant to the touch or on the eyes, but given its fine craftsmanship and the care taken to properly work the interior to comfort without compromising the exterior layer, it was a true miracle of Bosmeri craftsmanship. This was, however, only what was on her- apart from the rough-hewn ropes which were simultaneously loose enough to not excessively grind and dig, but far too tight to actually do anything about- thankfully, her gloves gave an outer layer to add just that little bit of protection.

The air was cold. It always was, but here on the cart, with impending doom lurking onward, it felt colder than ever before. As she was dressed in Bosmeri fashion, the clothes were not particularly suited to the frozen north, but here despite her best attempts to cover up there was a constant chill all throughout her body and running through her very spine. Aeralys shivered from this pallid, grave plague of penetrating chill, and yet despite this it also felt all warm at once- each ray of sunlight something special to be cherished, a bright spot of relaxing heat providing brief respite from the pall that lurked over the whole cart. The way the sun bounced in the leaves as the cart passed underneath created from the light a unique pattern of the shining orange glow, each tree's pattern distinct from the last, and in that there was beauty. When all else failed, a Bosmer could always appreciate the nature surrounding them to provide a little lift when needed.

Valenwood had no such things. The rainforest was so tall and the canopy so thick that there was no real sunlight at the floor. All light was provided by the beautiful nature that all Bosmer were sworn from birth to protect with their dying breath. That was, after all, why her tools her made all without wood and metal, why her clothes here made from leathers and sewn with animal sinews, why her very being was so able to appreciate the nature wherever she went. She was a good Bosmer, nobody could deny- but her quality of character in every other regard was always called into question. It hurt, certainly, but it certainly hurt less than being pulled to certain doom by a few horses and an Altmer. Yes, she'd always thought they were full of pomp, but never had appealing to that pomp failed her so spectacularly.

That was when she noticed that, within her cart, there seemed to be an encounter. A spastic Nord seemed to have awoken from his lovely nap, a thing that Aeralys felt she needed but could not bear to actually do, and he began plotting with an apparent friend of his. The two seemed to be colluding and planning something, though their whispering stopped the Bosmer from understanding too much of what they were saying- or was it just because she was tired? Only the gods might know. She tried to listen, to tune her ears in to pay close attention as she had learned to do in her less-than-honorable trade, only to be broken by the loud noise of a horse screaming in terror. This caught her attention, and her eyes darted over just in time to catch a large spurt of blood coming from the guard's torn-open chest. This made Aeralys feel nauseous, moreso than she had ever felt, and she wished to scream but her throat had dried suddenly and strongly.

There was suddenly a cry of 'ambush' followed by a heart-wrenching gurgling and a brief, but eerie, silence. In due time, a large group of seeming assassins that one might confuse with the Dark Brotherhood if they had been sponsored by Hircine instead of Sithis leaped from the woods and did slay many of the Thalmor. In a moment of clarify between attacks of terror and dread, Aeralys realized her opportunity to escape- the guards were not paying attention, after all, and whatever these ambushers wanted was clearly not good. Using her acrobatic abilities, she with bound hands pulled herself off the edge of the cart and made a graceful landing on the ground below. Noticing one of the prisoners having liberated herself, she lined up in the group of those to be cut free. So it was, and at that moment she ran to the cart and pulled her easily-identifiable small bag out to sling across her shoulder. At last reunited, she made no small effort in running wantonly into the woods alongside her new bondbrothers.

She was confronted by a single justiciar who, without second thought, she violently stabbed repeatedly. Tackling him down as he raised a fiery fist, she took in her hand a sharp bone dagger and thrusted it repeatedly into his torso. He coughed and choked a little on his blood, and his black coat started to drip red from the holes she had made. Horrified, having not been a killer before, she felt tears in the corners of her eyes- with no time to pity, however, she was forced to run once more when a savage arrow came all too near to her head. Joining at last with the rest of the prisoners in the forest, the whole group seemed to run. It was about then that a massive wall of flame erupted forth from oblivion itself to scorch the trees around. What a shame on the trees, but more on the lives soon to be wasted. Was this the end? She asked this to herself as a mysterious figure stepped forth, daunting in every aspect of his figure. He demanded that "the girl" be seized, and she briefly looked to herself before realizing it was probably the leader of the escape that they were after- the one who had released her of her bonds, this 'Emily' that had been discussed briefly in the cart.

And then the ground exploded. No, seriously. It exploded. No kidding. These wizardy types were always a strange lot, and Aeralys had taken a little chance at magic in the past through mostly the illusion school, but she'd never seen such a forceful spell before. So forceful, in fact, that nobody was left standing as they were- though unlike some it appeared that Aeralys managed to retain her conscious form, even if the world appeared to be a bit blurry for a while. Some blurry blobs moved along, fought, and something happened that she could not exactly make out. Pulling her hair in front of her to check for blood, she realized quite soon her general idiocy. The hit to the head had done some damage, even if temporary, and upon checking her hand was relieved to find that there was no bleeding after all.

Once her vision cleared, all she could make out was an Altmer standing vaguely near, though clearly not one of the Dominion, and of course the unconscious form of a Nord laying in the snow, wounded but still breathing, one of the leaders of the escape who had promised safe shelter. Seeing that the dark was closing in, temperatures were dropping, and that this man seemed of vital importance not only to her immediate survival but also to her grander scheme in the land of Skyrim, she sighed and took one arm, dragging the heavy body near twice or thrice her own weight to a nearby rocky formation she could see above the treeline. She was no expert of Skyrim, but there would, logically, be a nearby cave where the remnants could camp. "Help me out, here." She told vaguely in the direction of the Altmer, though she did not stop to speak nor to offer a chance to get equal footing with one another. Instead, she simply kept dragging.

and dragging

and dragging

Setting up shop in the cave, Aeralys made a quiet note to herself that firewood was needed. Going out a little to gather an abundance of dry sticks lying on the ground, as they seemed to do frequently in Skyrim, she arranged some rocks in a circle and placed them within. Now all that was needed was a fire, and the poor Bosmer had none of the tools she needed to actually ignite even the dryest piece of wood in the whole of the country, not that she would not crudely try by lodging a stick in the pile and rubbing it between her gloved hands quite fiercely. She soon gave up and pointed at the nearby Altmer, "Isn't there anything you can do for this?" she asked, "Any...spells?" This being the first time she properly spoke to the Altmer, it was a little less than climactic. Sighing and plopping down nearby, the Nord in just a few more moments stirred, kicked, and shot awake. He asked a series of questions, and Aeralys had no idea how to answer- she froze, paralyzed, unable to speak. It had only occurred to her when he had asked his questions just what she had been through, how close to death she had been, and how out of her league she was.

The existential horror hit hard, like a rock- the horror of the encounter, of the new threat that may plague Skyrim in the form of whatever those strange figures were, of how her plans had been foiled so spectacularly in such a violent manner. It was beyond words for her, and was truly astounding.

Aeralys wanted to scream, but her throat had dried suddenly and strongly.

[Rodez]

Skyrim-Hammerfell Border

Black was the night, and heavy was the heart of Tharsten Seabourne. The craggy cliffs and grey mountains of the Reach rose up around him, flanking the narrow dirt path that snaked for uncounted leagues through the near-lawless border country. Sandy Hammerfell was behind him, and his childhood home of Skyrim loomed before him.

The frigid province they called the Old Kingdom had not been kind to him. Although his childhood had been comfortable enough, its conclusion had been an exile in all but name. A brother who hated him for his half-Breton heritage and lack of Nordic savagery. A father who had died embarrassed of him.

Still, life in Cyrodiil had been one success after another. No one ridiculed him after he single-handedly turned his father's businesses around. And later, during his enslavement in the mines of Morrowind, no one questioned his toughness or called him a coward unless they wanted to receive a wakizashi to the gut.

Now he was returning, only with nothing to lose. Tharsten derived a certain grim satisfaction from the ongoing civil war tearing the province apart. His brother Kjeldan had thought so highly of himself, had been so sure his own place was secure was Tharsten was removed from the picture. Now the elder Seabourne brother was suffering through the war with the rest of them. What was Kjeldan going to take from him now? I will ride to Riften and laugh in his face.

Tharsten reflected on what lay behind him: dead friends, his own fault, and dead Thalmor by his own hand. If the long arm of the Aldmeri Dominion extended all the way to Skyrim, then Tharsten imagined he would soon be made to pay dearly.

That was when a quartet of Altmer stepped out of the trees. Three were garbed in the golden armor of Thalmor soldiers, while the fourth was in the black robes of a mage. Tharsten drew his wakizashi.

A crooked smile spread across the face of the mage. "Hello murderer," he spat.

Somewhere new, a day or two later

Tharsten glanced over at the woman and the big, brawny Nord conversing at the opposite end of the prisoner cart. It was clear they were discussing the possibility of escape, although Tharsten didn't know why, what with two dozen guards. He just wanted them to shut up; he was freezing cold, his head hurt to Oblivion, and it had nothing to do with the bruises or cuts endured during his lengthy struggle with the Thalmor.

He was about to open his mouth to silence them when an axe buried itself in a guard's chest right before his eyes. A cloven torso and two arrows later, the panicked cry of "ambush!" went up amongst the Thalmor. In an instant, the woman who called herself 'Emily' and her Nord friend were up and off the cart. Black-clad assailants swarmed the escort, slaying the Thalmor and forcing them to fall back. Now this Emily was directing the prisoners off the cart so she could their bonds with that deadly axe.

Tharsten raised an eyebrow as they clambered off, leaving him alone in the cart. Is this . . what good luck feels like? Good luck doesn't happen to me, he thought morosely.

Indeed it did not. An arrow grazed his thigh and opened up a cut that began to bleed profusely. Tharsten yelped in pain as he rose and jumped to the ground.

Emily and the others had already departed, so Tharsten cut his bonds on a stray blade and hurried to the equipment cart. Along the way he took in the battle: the Thalmor had rallied and stiffened, but they were too few against the ambushers. Tharsten had been skeptical that the newcomers had any interest in a rescue mission. The sight of a black-clad attacker cutting down a prisoner sent his heart pumping and his legs kicking up dust with all the urgency of a wild animal flushed from hiding.

What prisoners remained were rapidly emptying out the equipment cart under the direction of Emily and the big Nord, who was making rather grand promises of safety in Stormcloak territory. Tharsten retrieved his wakizashi, threw his saddle-bag over his shoulder and decided he might as well stick with his cart-mates for the time being in case they ran into trouble. He was no friend of the Stormcloaks, but if they could shield him for the time being he was more than willing to pretend.

When everyone took off into the woods, Tharsten followed as fast as he could. This was to be a most unlikely chance for freedom; he was not about to slow for stragglers or spare anyone who tried to stop him.

Regardless, Tharsten did quite a bit of slowing down when walls of sheer flame appeared out of nothing to surround them. He staggered back, panic beginnging to take hold.

Then came the masked figure, drawing back the flames like a mere curtain. Flanking it were two soldiers -or creatures?- with grotesquely horned helmets.

"Capture the girl," it said.

Emily and her friend began to charge. Then the ground erupted.

Tharsten found himself hurled into the air and return to the ground with a bruising, painful crunch. He let out a low moan of agony. In the process of clawing dirt of his eyes, Tharsten watched the dark beings seize Emily and take her through a portal of some kind, which closed behind them. The flames receded.

It took him a minute or two to regain his bearings and allow the panic of the last few seconds to siphon away somewhat. Everything hurt, but Tharsten was fairly certain there were no broken bones. He was entirely unsure what he had just been through, but he was aware enough to function mostly properly.

After a time he realized a Bosmeri woman and a high elf were dragging the unconscious Nord up into the treeline ahead. Whatever other survivors remained were tailing behind. Gradually, Tharsten picked himself up and followed.

A cave, some hours later

Tharsten dragged himself into the warmth of the fire. His watch shift had just ended, and his bare hands were cold nearly to the point of being frostbitten. He had since donned his leather armor; although he didn't know what for - the mysterious attackers were nowhere to be found, and a brief reconnaissance had confirmed that the Thalmor were all dead. No one had come for them.

Somehow, Tharsten didn't find that particularly comforting just yet. He leaned a little closer to the fire and looked about. Could he trust these people? Probably not, beyond not killing him. The Nord-Breton Rogue hadn't bothered to do much introducing; he had given his name if asked, but nothing more.

Suddenly, the big Nord was awake and thrashing about. “Who are you? Where are we? Where’s Emily?!” he bellowed.

Tharsten slid a hand to the hilt of his wakizashi. Careful, big man. There was no immediate response from his fellow escapees, so Tharsten took the initiative. "They took your lady friend," he grumbled. "The strange assailants, that is, not the Thalmor. They're all dead. We all escaped together, remember? Must've been a nasty hit to the head you took."

He was about to leave it there, when he recalled the promise of safety the Nord had made. Leaning a little closer, he offered his arm. "Tharsten Seabourne, at your service. Your friend, the one named Emily, she called you . . Eilert? Ainsworth? What was it, now?'

[New Finnish Republic]

Unknown Cave

"They took your lady friend. The strange assailants, that is, not the Thalmor. They're all dead. We all escaped together, remember? Must've been a nasty hit to the head you took."

The words were painful to hear, but I managed to control myself as the man in front of me tried to explain everything. It had been subtle, but I'd notice his hands reach for his weapon, meaning that if I was too reckless I could easily find myself dead before I could do anything further. So I bit my lip and let the man continue to speak. I noticed he held features of a fellow Nord, but his noticeably tanner complexion made it clear that he was likely a half-breed, probably either an Imperial or a Breton. I hoped it was the latter.

"Tharsten Seabourne, at your service. Your friend, the one named Emily, she called you . . Eilert? Ainsworth? What was it, now?'

I looked to see the man's arm reaching out toward me. I hesitated for a brief second before grasping near his elbow and returning the greeting.

"E-Einar. Einar Iron-Fist. "

I looked around to see the others who had assembled in the cave. It was definitely a mixed bag of characters, and I had serious doubts on where all of their loyalties were. However, they had dragged my ass into shelter and had yet to put a blade in my chest, so I thought that I could at least trust them for the time being. I released my grip from Tharsten before clearing my throat.

"Look, I don't know who you all are, and quite frankly, it may not even matter. However, what does matter is the fact that my...friend has been taken by...someone. I've lived in Skyrim all of my life, and I've come to know quite a bit of the various groups and organizations that call this place home as well. Yet never before have I heard or seen these people, nor do I know what they're after."

I locked eyes with several of the people inside, my voice low and serious.

"But I plan on finding out, and I plan on getting Emily back from these people. If you choose to help me, I swear on my honor as a Son of Skyrim that I will repay you with every asset I have available, whether it be gold, shelter, or security."

I glanced behind us where the exit of the cave was located. The night time sky was still dark, and there was no promise that the area was secure. While time was of the essence, rushing out foolishly in the dark would likely end poorly, and he doubted anyone was wanting to go out after what had occurred. He hated to admit it, but they'd have to wait until morning.

"So should you choose to aid me, I will be going out to investigate the scene of the ambush and see if there are any clues that could help us get an idea of who these masked assailants were and where they went. I won't judge you nor try to stop you if you decide to leave elsewhere, as I can't imagine this will be an easy task."

I looked around the fire one last time before allowing a sigh to escape me as I sat back down. The fire continued to crackle, oblivious of the concerns of the mortals who used its energy to sustain themselves. If only I had the same luxury, I thought before ending my small speech.

"I'd ask that regardless of your decision that you at least introduce yourself so that we know how to address you. Like I previously said, my name is Einar Iron-Fist. My allegiance lies with the Stormcloaks, but I will bear no ill towards those who do not support our cause."

My voice softened.

"We all know the blood that has been spilled because of it has been great enough for us all."

[The Assorted Saharan Outposts]

Komili had woken up with quite a start, she can confirm that much. She was currently in Cyrodill, near the border between Skyrim and the land she was currently in. The traveling priestess had been there to spread the word of a certain religion. She wouldn't be sure what until she got out and into the public eye. She never thought these things out beforehand. The spirits spoke to her, told her who to praise, and she'd follow their orders, preach, and then step off stage. Today it was different. Today, she wouldn't get to the stage.

She had been shaken always by Thalmor agents, though she wouldn't recognize that was who they were for a minute, which only increased her internal panic, and seeing one of them haphazardly go through her belongings was just as panic inducing. Considering the current situation she was in, she took it fairly calmly. "Who are you people? What do you want?"

"You have committed crimes against the Dominion and its people." Even as the man spoke, he grabbed Komili and roughly dragged her out of her bed roll, forcing the holy woman to her feet. "You will be taken to the nearest embassy, the one in Skyrim, to face judgment for your crimes. Your items shall be confiscated in the meantime."

For a moment, Komili was relieved. Ah, that was the problem? Well, there was certainly some mistake there, then. "I assure you, officer, a mistake has been made. I haven't broken any laws. I am a member of the clergy, as you can see."

"You don't deserve robes if you're willing to break laws," the man replied with a dry tone of voice and an equally as dry expression on his face, devoid of emotion. "You'd be lying when you said you haven't been breaking laws as well. You're aware the preaching of Talos is illegal, correct?"

The priestess frowned, her brows furrowing as the hybrid looked down at her feet now that she thought about it, she could recall some nice innkeeper warning her about that. Apparently, she had forgotten about that in the heat of the moment. Her eyes turned back to the guard and she shook her head. "Alright, I suppose that law had slipped my mind. My apologies, but can't this be solved with a fine? I don't have to leave, do I?"

"For promoting violence against the government of the Dominion, you'll have to come to the embassy. Now, let's go. We have other lawbreakers that are on their way to the embassy, and we'd much prefer you didn't slow us down. Now come on, let's get going." He had grabbed the priestess's arm and dragged her away from where she had set up camp for the night.

"Promoting violence against the Dominion?" Komili asked, her brows furrowing once more as the hybrid of creatures shook her head. "I'm sorry, but that time you do have me mistaken for someone else. As it is what I live for, I will admit to the preaching of Talos, but promoting violence...I've done no such thing. You have the wrong person."

"Yeah, I'm sure you didn't." The man said as he guided her to a cart with a few other prisoners onto it. Komili stared at the cart until she felt a burn on her wrists. She winced and looked down to notice the Thalmer tying rope around her wrists, binding her and restricting the movement of her arms and hands.

"I suppose women of the cloth don't get treated any softer than a hardened criminal. Is that right?" This was meant to be said in a more joking tone, but she couldn't find a way to bring that tone to light, and instead spoke with a very monotone, almost serious voice. The man looked up at her and shook his head before pushing her onto the cart. In another nearby cart, she watched as another guard put her possessions onto the cart.

"May the divines be with me," she muttered as the carts began to move, accompanied by the sound of the horse's hooves pressing against fallen leaves or grass. Whatever was going to happen to her now, only the gods would know, and they seemed like they would be unwiling to tell her anything.

---

The rest of the ride, Komili would spend in mostly silence. No one bothered to speak to her, and she felt like this wasn't the time to ask people what they were going to the embassy for. One of them had been unconscious for most of the trip, his partner, a woman who Komili certainly didn't know, like most of the people on this cart, would sit next to him. She didn't speak either. The only time that Komili would truly speak was when someone looked to be panicking. An elf, she was, and Komili tilted her head as she stared at the woman, crying, screaming and generally trying to fight her bonds. She tried to figure out how to calm her down, but words were never her thing unless they had theological meaning behind them. Instead, she only closed her eyes and muttered to herself.

"To the divines, to all the gods that will listen, protect us. Protect this cart and those within this. Protect our captors, who mean no harm, who follow orders. Shall any of us die on or during the aftermath of this trip, may they be taken to Sovngarde, to the Sands Behind the Stars, or to wherever heaven they believe. I ask of you, I beg of you, protect our bodies and our spirits held within. Heavenly beings, you are all powerful, and I only ask you to hear my wish. Thank you, dear gods."

Komili would open her eyes and sigh, feeling the surprsingly cold wind on her face. This was where she would have normally put on one of her masks, but that certainly wasn't an option at the moment. Sure, she was used to the cold by now, having traveled all throughout Skyrim, but the priestess robes were never the best at keeping one warm, and her species as a whole wasn't the best as staying warm, even if she was half Nord. The priestess shivered as she watched the scenery go by. She should be worried, but at the moment, she was calm. She didn't commit the crime, so certainly she could convince others of what she did not do, and possibly walk away with a simple, small fine. The others, however, they may not be so lucky...

Her thoughts were cut off by one of the lawbreakers, the Nord who had been asleep for most of the ride, had been woken up in a rather spastic, energetic manner. Komili only stared intently at him as he woke up and the woman began to comfort him. The woman muttered a soft prayer for him, to clear out any possible negative energy, before looking down at her own hands, which were resting in her lap. There wasn't much else she could do with them, so she had resorted to running them against her robes, enjoying the feeling of soft material underneath her fingertips. It was a pleasant feeling, and it gave her a sense of comfort like things were going to be okay.

Though, then the Nord had started to get into an argument with one of the Dominion guards. Komili watched them for a moment before clearing her throat and speaking. "Perhaps arguing at the moment wouldn't be the best idea?" she asked, one of the first times she's spoken aloud, and had it be directed towards someone. "Considering we still have a while longer on our journey, I think it'd be in our best interests to-"

She was cut off when she saw the ax be embedded into someone's chest. The scream of ambush suddenly came from one of the guards before she, too, was killed, this time with a bow and arrow. She had slumped in her horse and had let out a gargle soon afterward, causing whatever Komili still had in her stomach from yesterday (she had no opportunity to eat breakfast) to rise up and build up in her throat. She's never seen someone being killed before. The whole situation was something she's never been in before.

At first, she had no idea how to react. Then someone had cut her hands free, the woman from before. She said a quick thank you for acknowledgment before jumping off of the cart and moving towards the one that carried all of their equipment. She silently watched as the Nord, who just woke up a few minutes ago, had quickly sprung into action and killed two of the guards. She muttered a small prayer for their souls before running towards one of the sacks, which she had identified as hers, before reaching into it. Masks, jewelry, there's her knife. Everything was still here.

Before she even grabbed her weapon, Komili had put on her mask of dread. As soon as it donned her face, the mask would begin to glow with a purple aura. The eyes became black as the darkest night, as long as the mouth hole. She looked around once more, being able to see out, but no one would be able to see in. She would watch as the ones who had ambushed the cart would come in, and they seemed to be taking the lady friend of the Nord.

Komili took a deep breath before opening her hand. A small ball of light would appear and she hummed softly. The more she hummed, the brighter the ball would become. This would be a major healing spell. Odds are it would fill her current allies with enough strength to continue the fight, though she would use up much energy and wouldn't be able to fight. She'd put her life in the hands of these lawbreakers. Though, despite the risks, she was willing to make a sacrifice.

She never found her chance to. Before she could charge up her spell completely, the ground itself had seemed to explode underneath them all. Komili had been moved away from the cart by the pure force of the blast, landing a good few feet away and tumbling until she stopped at a resting point on her back, staring up at the sky and trying to regain her breath. Never being in a fighting situation before, she had never had to witness a spell such as that.

The whole world was blurry as she looked around, her ears ringing from the explosion and her vision nothing but faint blurs. She noticed one person trying to drag off someones (hopefully) unconscious body off into the forest. With no other option, and people she needed to heal, she followed them, her vision slowly coming back to her as she fled from the scene of the ambush. There was nothing she could have done, she kept telling herself. She couldn't save those people...

---

When they had decided to set shop with in the cave, the priestess would get to work healing whoever needed to be healed. It would be a moderately long process, but eventually most wounds would be healed, and she would work on bringing the Nord back to full consciousness.

Her glowing hands hovered over the Nord's body as she waited for him to come back to life. She hadn't bothered to introduce herself to those she healed. That could wait until after everyone was in the right state of mind, and conscious. Her eyes darted between those around her as she thought about saying something to at least break the ice. Though, it was then at that moment that the Nord had woken up. In quite a start, as well. Komili had to step back to avoid possibly getting hit by a flailing arm.

"Ah, good, you're awake," the woman muttered before speaking. "Now, for those here who have been wondering, my name is Komili Esteras. I'm a traveling priestess, as well as a healer. Skyrim born, I've travelled through these lands of Skyrim, Cyrodiil, and Valenwood as well as Elsweyr. I'd say it's nice to meet you all, if not given the current circumstances." She let out a sigh.

The Nord would then speak of himself, what his goals now were, and then ask for someone to accompany him in looking at the location of the ambush. Her eyes trailed to the fire as she contemplated what to do next. "It would not be right to leave a man in dire need." she said softly, though it almost seemed like she was talking to the fire. "I will go with you. I will try to aid you, but the gods of all may only help a woman so much."

[The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness]

Atrocious, is what it was.

No, it was worse than that. Her hands bound by the soldiers of the regime she had always so faithfully served, Astanya of Cloudrest found herself sitting in a cart, together with - she could hardly bear the thought - Nords, among others. Such was to be expected in Skyrim, of course, but in this position...? She was disgusted by the very thought. She'd voiced her protests to her Altmeri kinsmen, of course, but they payed her little mind. Her attire, which was rather not-Altmeri, didn't help her there. Bah. She pulled at the rope that bound her hands, but no more than that - she could burn it, of course, but that'd just get her into more trouble. And more trouble was not what she wanted to get into.

No, quite the opposite. She remembered the faces of every single one of the idiots that had taken her captive, now. The fools that had bound her hands. Her hands! They'd pay. She'd make sure of that. Her old tutor, Master Atirion, used to write Elenwen, then still an interrogator, now the Dominion's ambassador to this wretched wasteland. She'd read some of his mail, and was certain that she knew enough details to validate her claims. And then those idiots would pay!

Of course, joining those Lorkhanite lunatics as an observer during some religious sermon hadn't been Astanya's brightest idea looking back on it now, but it certainly looked like the best way of learning about their ridiculous ways of worshiping Lorkhan, or Shor as these men called him. She'd learned enough about them to write an entire book on them, debunking their foolish ways, but before she could leave the Justiciars of her glorious Dominion had appeared, attacking the worshipers and taking them out - the only reason she lived was her race, she was sure. Rightly so, of course.

A horse died. Astanya blinked. She knew it to be that. She'd heard it before plenty of times. Immediately, she looked up and around her - a good Altmer died, an axe in his chest, before another was shot dead, her body dropping onto Skyrim's filthy soil. And just like that it happened. An ambush indeed. A few seconds, and a lot of death. Her people were being slaughtered, by oafish, masked Nords! Astanya would not stand for it, she decided. Climbing up onto her feet on the cart, she let out a mighty huff in clear frustration. Brows furrowed, she looked down at her wrists, bound as they were, before holding out a finger towards the rope that bound them together - a small flame appearing as she quickly burned through it. Her wrists freed, she quickly pulled the rope off of her skin, cursing underneath her breath, before finding herself to have to rapidly duck to avoid an archer's shot. She'd get him, too, just he wait!

Hurling a bolt of flames at the masked ruffian, she made her way out of the cart, not looking to see if her spell had hit - the sound of skin turning into something more crispy, and the pained scream certainly told her enough. One oaf down, at least. Humming, she landed onto solid ground, keeping low as she glanced around. “Your stuff should be in there! Don’t bother throwing on any armor, it’ll take too much time. Have your weapons ready in case we need to fight, but avoid getting caught up in this if you can!” A Nord shouted, and she considered silencing his annoying mouth, but his words, at least, were reasonable. Her possessions were far too valuable to even risk leaving them in the hands of these... primates.

Quickly moving to retrieve her things, and doing so successfully, Astanya found the man to be yelling again. “If you are no enemy of the Stormcloaks and promise to not betray us, I promise free shelter once we make it into friendly territory.” That, she decided, was the right moment for her to gloriously take him out and - She blinked, and looked behind her. Her kinsmen were holding the line, for now, but chances were they'd lose. And if she let this heretical type run off and disappear to go join his fellow rebels... No, no, that'd just be wrong, and she'd be a failure to her people, even if only she would know. Indeed, the right thing to do here was to, clearly, follow this man, as disgusted as the very thought made her.

Managing to keep her stomach's contents where they should be, in her stomach, she moved to follow. Well, until a wall of flames burst out in front of them, and those dreadfully primitive figures went to take some girl. Not her, at least - she was no girl, after all! The explosion that followed similarly wasn't aimed at her, but that seemed to matter little, and she was still blown back by it, grunting in pain and muttering to herself in pure frustration.

Some Bosmer suggested she drag the rebel man to safety. Grumbling to herself in further frustration, she decided to try it for some reason - at least for a moment. After giving the man's arm a tug, however, she just let go again, letting the Bosmer do the rest of the work. Making their way to a cave to seek shelter, the Wood Elf requested of her to make a fire, essentially. That was the intent of it, anyways. She'd tried, herself, and failed - naturally. She scoffed. "Of course I can." In an excessive display of her absolutely awesome magics, she sprayed some mighty flames against the wood, and soon there was indeed a proper campfire in this little cave.

Astanya reached for her bag, checking to see if everything was still there. Luckily enough, it was. She humpfed as soon, people seemed to start introducing themselves. She couldn't be excluded from that, now, could she? Waiting for all these oafs to finish speaking, she finally spoke out again herself, her voice haughty and full of pride - mostly of herself. "Astanya of Cloudrest. Scholar, writer, enchanter, alchemist, mage, war veteran, you name it - 't is I. I would offer you all an autograph but I'd rather not waste my ink."

[The Ik Ka Ek Akai]

Blood. That was all she could think about. Blood. Organs. The haunting screams of the slain guards and their horses. The aura of dread surrounding the attackers. It was not a pretty picture, but Aeralys could not bring her mind to anywhere else. Each passing moment, the scene flashed again through her mind- each drip of liquid elf, each pained moan, each excruciating scream, it was stuck in repay. Aeralys had done burglary and smuggling, she had escaped from bandits and guards alike. She had hunted beasts through the jungles of Valenwood, sometimes losing all light and navigating only through intuition alone. In all this, however, she had never, ever come so close to death as in those few minutes of chaos. Those few minutes, stretched into hours, into days-

She was awoken quite suddenly by louder clattering noise. It seemed so distant, but only then did she realize it was the talking of those in the cave, each in turn giving their introductions. With a pit in the bottom of her stomach, and her senses returning to her, she listened as she could until it seemed she alone needed introduction. She opened her mouth, barely, but clutched at her stomach- a great and fiery pain grew within her as she turned aside and let out a chunky, acidic spill the color of Altmer flesh. Viewing it upon the ground, and feeling disgusted with herself, she began a brief period of heavy breathing. The cold air and the warm crackling of the fire came back to her, and her senses seemed by now fully restored.

Looking now to the others in the room, she felt as if glared upon by the watchful eyes of the gods themselves- were they all so pure? Were they truly to judge her now? Certainly, it was not a good impression she had left them, and even worse that she would be stuck with them for at the very minimum until warm daylight broke again. Deciding to put on a facade of confidence, as if she did not just have an anxious fit of panicked memories and, unable to stomach it, ejected her bile. Standing from the somewhat distant rock she was sitting on, her footing was uneasy and she stumbled. Finally able to speak, "Aeralys" was what she said, sitting a little closer, "just Aeralys."

Now plopped down, she pulled one glove off to check her wrists for damage. Surely enough, some thin purple lines were all over. It looked very nasty, though to her understanding they were no more than bruises and would clear up quite soon. She didn't even feel pained from them, which was a good sign. Putting her hand against the fire, she then slipped it back on again, tugging at its cuff to tighten it against the hand and get it to cover a little more of the arm. Everything felt a little cold, and with her last trail snack lying in a puddle a fair amount of cubits away, she was feeling weak and weary.

Looking up again at the rest of them, she spoke once more, "I don't know what happened there. Whatever it was, it is certainly not what I came here for. Never in my life have I brushed so near to the gods..." with this, she turned her head back to face the ground, unsure of how to proceed from here. She did not reply to the Nord's offer one way or the other, and perhaps she had not even fully heard it to begin with. As she began to drift mentally back to the few minutes of dread, she let loose a heaving sigh and tried to clear her head enough for just enough mental quiet to appear composed to those around her.

[New Finnish Republic]

Unknown Cave

As I expected, I'd indeed stumbled upon an...interesting bunch.

The woman known as Komili seemed to be nice enough, and having someone gifted in the restoration arts of magic was certainly a rarity that would be appreciated. It was clear that she was a half-breed as well, which meant that there would be no way she could be with the Dominion as they would never associate with someone deemed as "tainted" as herself. Tharsten also seemed like he could be counted on as well as well as the type of man I could certainly spend an evening drinking away with.

The Altmer known as Astanya, on the other hand, was bound to cause issues. While her being arrested by the Thalmor meant that she had at least done something to displease them, this didn't mean she necessarily trustworthy. She practically reeked of an Elven Supremacist, something that was certainly something against my own values. However, for the time being I'd just have to hope she didn't try sneaking off and finding a Dominion patrol to alert to our presence.

As for the Bosmer, well, it was hard to get a good judge from her character. Sure, she seemed capable enough, and nor did she seem to hold any sense of love of the Dominion. But it's hard to hold any confidence in someone that decides to release the contents of their stomach for almost no reason. She seemed upset about what had happened, almost as if the scene of battle had been too much for her. Ironic, coming from a Bosmer...

Regardless, everyone seemed to be done with their introductions, and the puking seemed to kill any want for further conversation. After some minor small talk, the group decided that they would wait until morning to decide for certain about what they would do. While I hoped that they would accept my offer, I wasn't going to blame them for not wanting to get involved in any more trouble.

Soon, everyone decided to call it a night, outside of myself as I volunteered to keep watch for the remainder of the night. They must've trusted me at least somewhat, as no one objected to it. After a few minutes, the only noise that could be heard was gentle snoring and the occasional crackle coming from the fire inside.

As I sat with my back propped up against a rock facing the entrance to the cave, I began to try and gather my thoughts and decide what my next moves would be. Now that the initial shock of everything had worn off, I was able to think a bit clearer, which meant I could put an actual plan forward.

My first move would obviously be to figure out the identity of the attackers. I knew that the remains of the fallen would more or less remain undisturbed bar the occasional scavenger. By the time someone would come by to actually witness the scene, I'd be able to at least find some kind of clue to aid in my investigation. From there, I'd follow my leads until I eventually could find where they had taken Emily, regardless of how many bastards I had to fight through. I briefly considered returning back to Stormcloak territory in hopes of getting additional help, but I shook off the thought quickly. We didn't have the men to spend on a search and rescue mission, especially for what command what would see as a regular soldier. The Stormcloaks may have been brave, but nor were they foolish.

One thought, however, continued to bother me, and that was just why these people had taken Emily. She wasn't important in terms of power, didn't possess any sort of wealth, and to my knowledge she possessed no noteworthy lineage. The only notable thing she ever told me about her past was that her relationship with her father had been rough, as he had often left her back at their house in care of her neighbor while he went off to explore various supposed treasure filled ruins, only to come back empty handed every single time. So why would these people, whoever they were, want her specifically?

I thought and pondered this question for what seemed like forever, until eventually my eyes caught glimpse on the rising sun on the horizon. Looking back, I saw that the others were still fast asleep. I debated on letting them sleep for a bit longer, but I knew that I couldn't afford to waste any more time than I already had. If any of them planned on following me, we needed to leave soon.

I let out a small sigh before heading back towards where they were sleeping, my body stiff from staying in one position for too long. Careful as to not startle them too much, I shook their shoulders until I could sense them waking up. Once this was done, I looked down at the fire. It was more or less embers at this point, and I didn't feel like wasting any water on putting it out. I did my best to kick some dirt from the cave floor on top of it to hasten the fire's death, but otherwise I allowed it to continue to burn.

As the others began to rise, I reached into my bag to where a few of my provisions were. My food supplies were dismal at best, only having enough to likely last me the rest of the day. I'd have to either buy some more from a merchant with the limited gold I had or hunt and gather what I could along the journey. I decided to worry about that after my investigation and instead focus on getting ready.

Pulling out my armor, I noted it still possessed the remnants from my last battle. Dried bits of blood and gore remained on it, as did several fresh scratches along the metal. However the mess wouldn't take long to fix, and the damage didn't seem to require any immediate repairs. I noted that my blue sash, embroidered with the symbol of a roaring bear that identified myself as a Stormcloak, still remained in my pack as well. That was surprisingly to say at the least, as I expected the Thalmor to have destroyed such a thing the minute they laid hands on it. While I was glad to see it unharmed, I knew I wouldn't be able to wear it, as doing such in Imperial territory would only cause more trouble. So with much pain in my heart, I laid it down on the rock next to me where it would remain.

After several minutes, I had my armor put on and the rest of my possessions tucked away in the small pack I carried. Inside was the remainder of my provisions as well as some miscellaneous items, most notably my repair tools. While they were nothing compared to what a blacksmith could offer, they could keep armor and weapons in fighting condition as long as the damage wasn't too severe, something that had proven to be vital during my previous raids on Imperial territory.

Finally ready to go, I looked over to the others who seemed to be prepared to leave as well. I took a deep breath before addressing them all, possibly some of them for the last time.

"Well, it has been an...interesting time meeting you all. For those wishing to join me, I'll be heading back to where the ambush took place at to try and figure out just what in Talos's name happened. For those choosing to go on their own paths, I wish you luck and hope to meet you again...Hopefully on better terms."

I waited for a few seconds in silence, waiting to see who would join me. Regardless of who did, I was determined to get moving, and I didn't plan on waiting around too much longer for those who were still uncertain.

[The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness]

And just like that, the Bosmer woman threw up. Making sure to mask her clear disgust at such a gesture, even though it was regretably not unfamiliar to her, she went to look inside of her bag instead, searching through it for a few seconds. Better to look through that, even if it turned out to be pointless, it was better to have to look at the vomiting Bosmer – or anyone in her current company, really.

Finding what she was looking for, Astanya's eyes moved towards the Bosmer, who had just managed to do what was to pass for an introduction. Not a very flattering one, certainly, but an introduction nevertheless.She tossed the Bosmer, apparently one Aeralys, a small pouch containing a few dry plants. "Chew on one of those leafs," she told her, "it may help you not doing... that again."

She hummed to herself as the Wood Elf spoke again, little thing as she was. "I am not quite certain what that was, either, no. A terrible mistake is what it was! I should not have been bound and carted off – quite the opposite. I am sure this means that I'm not the only one who was bound and put on that cart for no good reason in the slightest. Tragic, truly, and very sloppy. I shall very much voice my complaint!"

Soon the talk quieted down, and people went to get some rest. The Nord – the rebel – volunteered to keep watch for the rest of the night. Astanya didn't trust him with that, and so she only pretended to sleep, keeping a watchful eye out on the man.

Come the morning, when everybody was rising, the Nord went back inside of the cave, dressed in some primitive armor that was a true eyesore in the eyes of Astanya. "Interesting is certainly one way of putting it," she said as she climbed up onto her feet, "and I shall certainly come and have a look to see what may have happened to those poor people. After that, however, I shall be on my way. I have some things I need to do here – research to conduct, ruins to investigate, you name it. I'm sure that I can put in a good word, as well as quite the sizeable physical reward, for anyone that would come and make sure nothing like this happens again while I do..."

[Xah]

Haeigr Flamehair
On the road
Somewhere in Skyrim

War. War never changes. The thought was vaguely unsettling to Haeigr, even as it flickered through her mind, like something out of place that didn't quite fit. She exhaled, her breath forming clouds in the chilly Skyrim air as she trudged along, the ox pulling the cart next to her creating its own clouds of vapour from both its breath and its regular emissions from the other end. It was the incessant war that plagued Skyrim that was both a bonus and a curse. Until recently, it had provided her with a secure income, mending swords and armour for the Stormcloaks and selling newer equipment to the inevitable mercenaries who flocked to conflicts like moths around a fire. However, to get the best business, you needed to be near to the front, so that you got the work as it happened and not the leftovers two weeks down the road, and the trouble with fronts is that they tended to wax and wane with the outcomes of battles. Haeigr had found herself on the 'wrong' side of the front a short while back, and her collection of half-repaired Stormcloak arms and armour suddenly became a liability which were quickly buried before an Imperial started to make connections. Thankfully, Haeigr had learnt to accept a semi-nomadic lifestyle fit best and loaded her anvil and various smithing paraphernalia onto her ox cart and began the slow journey back to more 'friendly' parts of Skyrim. She'd lost out on a relatively significant amount of coin, but coin can be re-made, unlike one's life.

Talos had a way of helping those who kept up their faith however. On the road, just ahead, was the unmistakable signs of an ambush; overturned carts, dead bodies and horses, smouldering fires and that most interesting of things; salvage. Haeigr paused slightly as she recognised one of the bodies as being that of the Thalmor. Whilst she held little love for the Altmer supremacists, they were known to be rather protective of their own and might not even stop to ask questions if they came along and found a Nord rifling through the remnants of one of their own. Necessity won over caution and she began to pick through what was left; elven glass weapons and armour would be too difficult to sell on, especially if they were of Thalmor make and design, but there was enough little things here and there to make this brief stop worthwhile. A few of the bodies were not Altmer and definitely had all the markings of 'prisoner' around them, but the evidence was mounting; broken ropes, looted equipment cart and plenty of dead Thalmor. This had been a prison break. Haeigr smiled a little to herself. She hoped the poor sods who managed to escape were far from here now. She made the sign of Talos for the few Nords she saw lying there and returned her loot to the ox cart. The further she could get away from this mess, the better.

[Theyra]

Unknown Cave
Ravonl Larethwatch

Ravonl was sitting in the cave kinda away from the rest and he was taking a slip from his waterskin. Ravonl was wearing his leather armor and brown cloak. His backback was on the ground next to him and his weapons were beside him was well. He was thinking about what happened last night and what led to it. Before he was captured by the Thalmor, he had joined up with a small trading caravan that was leaving Bruma and heading to Skyrim. He only joined because of the presence of Thalmor agents in the city. They were investigating possible Talos worshipers in the Nord population. Ever since escaping Summerset, he always avoided cities that Thalmor agents were in when he could.

Ravonl had thought about going to Skyrim for a while now since the ongoing civil war could be a better place to lay low then Cyrodiil. The Thalmor agents presence in the city and the caravan offering to take on hands seem like a good opportunity to make some gold and a reason to leave. Only, it turned out that the leader of the caravan secretly agreed to help some Talo worshipers get out of Bruma. Ravonl did not know if it was greed or kindness that the caravan leader agreed to get them out. But, those nords apparently did not cover their tracks that well. He did not blame the Nords for trying to escape and really did not care on what they worship. The only thing he wished about the whole thing was that he was awake when the Thalmor agents caught up to them. The caravan had camped for the night and he was sleep when the agents ambushed them.

Rather then see who was knew the Talo worshipers were in the caravan, the agents just imprisoned all of them. Next things he knew he was separated from the them and sent on a wagon with other prisoners. Ravonl knew it would be a matter of time when he reached the embassy that the Thalmor would found who he was. From there........ he figured he would not last long. When the ambushed happened and he did not care who was attacking the guards and made a run from the cart. He was among the prisoner that lined up to get his bindings and went to cart to get his belongings. He got his gear and followed the group that getting out of dodge.

"Perfect", was all he said when the wall of fire appeared in their path and more come up around them. He prepared to fight with his fellow escapees against who ever this trapped them. Though looked less at the leader and more at his two guards. The explosion that the leader caused sent him flying back and his left arm hit a rock when he landed. Ravonl grabbed his arm in pain and grunted in pain. He did not knowing if the pain was his arm being badly hurt or it was just the scar getting hit. While grabbing his arm, he looked back at the unknown beings take the nord woman and leave though a portal. Ravonl barely checked on how hurt he besides him arm and got up. He looked around to see who was near him and saw the some of the people he was with leaving. Two of them were dragging the Nord that was leading the group and he followed him while still grabbing his arm.

He kept to himself when he entered the cave with the rest and found a place to sit down. The pain in his arm had died down and after making some movements with it, figured it was just the scar and not his arm being sprained or worse. He listened to the others talked while he checked his backpack. Everything was intact and after listening to some of the talking. Ravonl quietly signed after hearing his fellow Altmer introduced herself. "She sounds like the rest back home", he thought to himself. He made of note of not wanting to spend time with her if he can help it. The rest that talked he thinks they are okay and could be trusted. Surprised about the stance of the Einar who was a Stromcloak. Though they were all prisoners and they did escape together. Ravonl felt asleep shortly after conversation ended.

Now back to the current day in the cave, Ravonl put his waterskin back in his backpack and made up his mind of what to do. It was clear when Einar when said about going back to the ambush site and try to find out what happened. After seeing the ones that attackered the Thalmor and kidnapped Einar's friend. Ravonl wants to know who those people were and perhaps help Einar find his friend. Chances are the people that took have something planned for her and Ravonl...... does not like to ignore people that he can help. The only downside was that Astanya wanted to join Einar back to the site and hopefully she does go on her own way afterwards. So he put on his backpack and gathered his weapons. Ravonl stood and walked near the entrance of the cave and looked at Einar. "I will came with you to the ambush site as well". "I want to find out who those people were and my name is Ravonl by the way".

[Ralnis]

Before the Ambush

Hands were bound and body beaten, the smell of burnt clothing made it's mark from Destruction spells. Alracongril sat with two guards sat between him to watch the Forsworn blademaster after the ambush. Despite them being able to take him, he still was skilled enough to give some wound to the agents before a fireball took him out and the rest beat him half-dead. Occasionally, eyes would lock with a faint, burning glow of defiance to his captors. The Reachman had nothing to say to them, not that they would care. To them he was a primitive, a heathen, and a mongrel of Elf blood that needed to be wiped out.

" Should've stayed in your forests Forsworn. Follow your Old Ways instead of snooping around." One of the guards said.

Alracongril turned his head," dirty Thalmor, you won't get anything out of me."

The Thalmor punched him in face where blood came out of his mouth but he still retained his look but the pin weighed in on him and he almost slumped over till he regained himself but his eyes became heavy and lost consciousness for a second as a single word and the movement of feet, hooves, and unsheathed weapons from belts started to become apparent to defining sound of bodies falling to ground.

" An ambush?" he said as he was knocked off the wagon and was knocked unconscious as the events of the ambush happened without his knowledge.

Sundered Towers,
8 1/2 years ago

It was early morning among the large ruins that homed the once fabled leader of the Reach. Forsworn of the tribe Palimeia, those whose bloodline came with the warriors who kept their venerated leader in consecrated but the trusted sword was lost. Alracongril prayed to the Old Gods like he used to before he went on his day. After he gave his prayer to the Hagravens then he left the tomb but was approach midway by a younger, but more built man.

" Done with your prayer Brother?" The Forsworn smiled.

" They don't take that long and you know Kengrel won't train unless we ask for blessings from the Hagravens. Still, I know you've been shrugging the prayers for sometime Uladul." Alracongril chuckled.

Uladul pat his back with his hand and chuckled," ahh don't worry Brother, I respect your zealousness to the faith, but I don't see the Old Gods fighting the Stormcloaks in the hills."

Alracongril just shrugged as they walked up the hillside of the ancient steps that reminded the tribe of their glory in the First Era. The two young men made pass the briarhearts and hunters who brought back deer and gave glory to the Huntsmen and the Old Gods. The crumbling towers had life with shaman servants and healers were tending wounds of the latest raids against the Nords. Loot of metal weapons were given to chosen warriors while wooden spears and stone axes were being sharpened and made by primitive smiths.

In one of the centers of the towers was the training grounds where a Briarheart with a gray beard that was running drills with young Reachmen with spears and shields as he shouted.

" Grinnoch!" he shouted at a young boy who got knocked down with a spear and shield in his hand," keep your shield up when you thrust! You think those Nord whoresons are going to give you time to get up when you lower your shield?"

The boy shakes his head," no Kengrel."

" Then put your shield up and throw your weight into it!"

Uladul came next to him," still being angry old man?"

The Briarheart turned to him," it seems you still haven't learned to respect your betters or pray to the Gods."

" Please teacher, don't be harsh on him, he has at least is a good student." Alracongril pleaded.

The Trainer sighed," you should be thankful for your blood brother Uladul. If it wasn't for his gift of the tongue or you two being as skilled as you are. Just wait here before the round of trainees are done."

After an hour or two of trainees are practicing thrusts and blocks. They gave thanks to the Trainer before they left. The two blood brothers got their wooden swords and took their opposite sides. Each one had a distinct flare in their swordsman style and smirked at the sight of them winning their duel.

" Alright boys, the same rules apply. Whoever wins gets to be in their first raid with a brairheart. Much honor can come to you young men to be trusted with such a battle. You two are skilled for your age but don't forget that one wrong move can cause the death of you. May the Old Gods watch over you and bless your swordarms.

Now, first blood takes the honor, fight!"

The two circled each other, eyes focused on each other's movements till Uladul made the first move. The blood brother came in with a thrust with his opponent side step and tried to swipe him from the back but Uladul rolled out of the way. The two got back into their disciplined stances and started to attack one another again. Each strike and thrust was countered by a block or a parry from the other. They moved in circles like wolves, trying to find that one weakness to claim victory.

It was a long fight, like so many of their duels. They knew one another, they fought and ate with one another. Their paths made them separate, yet parallel however Uladul knew his blood brother all to well as Alracongril got cocky over a feint but overcompensated his swing and Uladul slashed his side as splinters dug in a fresh wound.

Alracongril gripped his side and Uladul pointed the wooden sword at him.

" First blood goes to Uladul. You have secured your honor for the battlefield. Alracongril you have fought well, but you must not let your pride in your skill get into your head. Your feint was good, but left you open. You will be in the next raid I assure you."

After the Ambush

He woke up in a small puddle of blood but notice that little was his. A Thalmor was on top of him with the head of an arrow digging into his shoulder. He quickly moved up but had a difficult time as his wrist were bound. He looked over the wagon and saw the Thalmor were littered on the ground or others weren't around.

" It was an ambush." He said to himself with stinging sensation of pain from his head that notice he had a head wound.

" Gods what happened? Damn my head hurts."

He finds an arrow head and saws of the robe bindings as he gets his things from the bag. He noticed that they're were once other prisoners on the caravan and looked around.

" I wondered which one of them sent the people who ambushed the Thalmor?" He asked himself," doesn't matter, I'm in pain and need to get that done, then figure out what happened here. If anything, it's probably related to that backstabber."

He popped a cork to one of the health potions and drank it. The mystical liquid nearly made him gag because of the strong bitter taste but it started to do the job as his injuries were healing and he fealt better than being in a constant state of pain and probably more than a few broken bones thanks to the Thalmor.

After that he had to sit down with his back against the wheel and his iron longsword clucthed to his chest, trying to wait out the effects of the potion so that he could make do a more through search when he's better.

[The Ik Ka Ek Akai]

Aeralys looked over the group. Still somewhat freshly woken, she was a notoriously light sleeper. She had to be- any threats approaching by night were never things she could simply ignore- be they beasts of the wood or guards coming to her door. It was not as if she had enjoyed a particularly restful sleep anyways, given that her mind had drifted in its sleep back to the battle. It was, perhaps, not the gore that so ravaged her stomach, though seeing the insides of her fellow mer and men was far different than the simple animal gore she wore as basic clothing, but perhaps how close she had come to her demise in those instants. The total loss of control, something she had never experienced thanks to her being able to weasel one way or another out of any situation, though picks or contacts or just talking, was terrifying. The closeness to dreaded torture moreso. Being helpless in the cart as death fell around? Well, it was simply not a good day for her.

Hearing the Altmer state that there had been clear mistakes in some of the arrests, she simply nodded, "Those Dominion agents arrested me when I was crossing through. Just because I'd taken a shortcut around the gateway! I've no time for such things- and then they trusted the Imperial border guard about whether an elf is innocent!" She spoke, "Pft! Fair, indeed! They rooted through my things and sent me away. I'm quite certain they violated so many protocols in doing so."

Turning to face the Nord, she raised her voice once more, "As for you, well- I think you could make use of my particular talents. In Valenwood we learn to track and to hunt, and I've a special eye. I'm a Jeweler by trade, not a crafter but, well," she opened her satchel and pulled from it a handful of particularly expensive-looking necklaces, bracelets, rings, and earrings with large jewels embedded all within, "I ferry them. I pick them up in one place and sell them elsewhere. I am at my own discretion when I chose which to transport, and I can discern the finest details to know which are worth my time. Between these skills- tracking, mobility, and an eye for fine details, I believe that, at least for this first investigation, I'd be of use."

"Plus," she added, "I've got a stake in figuring out what the hell all that was as much as anyone else here. I don't know how far down this little quest I may follow you all, but it's hardly a burden to revisit the scene." In her mind, of course, was her natural instinct as well- the ability to take from the remains what she could salvage, whatever valuable items she may find, was quite nice. Furthermore, she would not even establish any suspicion, as it'd appear that she was simply keeping her eye on the 'fine details' of the scene. She felt proud of herself, able to regain her mindset and beat back, at least for now, the trauma of her close shave with Sithis.

[The Assorted Saharan Outposts]

Instead of waiting for the sun to come up and talk to the others while doing so, Komili decided that the best thing to do would be to fall asleep for the time being. A priestess is not in the best of mindsets when depleted of sleep. With that being said, she would quickly fall asleep shortly after hearing they'd talk in the morning. She would wake up a few hours later, look outside, and see the sun rising. She was still in a cave, as well. So whatever happened was certainly no strange dreams. It was still strange either way, though...

Komili muttered a small prayer, for herself and everyone in the cave, before looking towards the Nord and clearing her throat. "So, are we going to the scene of the ambush? If so, I will join happily. If they are to attack again, you need a healer. Not only that, but you will need help anyways, and it would be foolish of me to not extend a hand to help you. I shall follow you, help you investigate. Though I am not skilled in combat, I do have the gods on my side. I have skills that will assist you."

[Rodez]

Tharsten Seabourne

Tharsten sat up as Einar shook him awake and unceremoniously threw on his leather armor and strapped his wakizashi to his belt. It was time to go, though he knew not where. For long hours the previous night, he had lain awake pondering what to do next now that the most improbable freedom had been achieved.

He could not bring himself to ride to Riften just yet. He could not face his brother until the day came when he could stride up to Kjeldan and know that he was more of a man than the older Seabourne brother. What Tharsten felt he needed most was a cause he could believe in. Too many years of wandering in anonymity had elapsed.

He listened quietly as Einar made his case and several others pledged to help him. Tharsten had more than a moment's hesitation. In some ways he wanted to go his own way, but there was no explaining the bizarre, otherworldly attack. A larger part of him felt like he owed these people, with whom he had suffered through the previous day's horrors, a little bit more. Tharsten didn't know where this would lead, and he wasn't sure he wanted too - but the Divines damn him if he wasn't going to see this through a little bit longer.

After the Nord-elf priestess had her say, Tharsten stepped forward and addressed Einar. "I'll stick by you for a time," he grumbled. "It isn't right that Emily was taken while we walk free. I'm more than handy with a blade, and I can sneak and talk my way out some sticky situations. I'm with you."

[New Finnish Republic]

Outside the cave

I was relieved to see that the others were willing to help out. There would be a lot of ground to cover in the small amount of time that they had, so every pair of eyes helped. Besides, it would be nice to have a few people watching my back while I was looking around. There was no way of knowing if either any of the Thalmor or the unknown group were still hanging around the scene of the battle, and the last thing I needed was an arrow piercing my back while I rummaged through a backpack.

"Alright, let's go then. Keep your eyes open for anything you'd think points towards who these people are and where they could've gone."

After a quick nod, we proceeded to exit the cave. I had the Bosmer lead us back to the scene of the ambush, trusting her as the most capable of the bunch in regards to path finding. Besides, if she had dragged me here all by herself, I could guarantee she had taken the easiest path. Sure enough, within a matter of minutes we had found our way back.

If there was one thing that was good about Skyrim's cold, it was the fact that the frigid temperatures kept bodies from rotting up and stinking up the whole place. It would be a blessing, as I expected we'd be getting very up close and personal with these corpses very shortly. I just hoped that the others would be okay getting this close to all of the carnage. The last thing they needed was more people puking their guts out all over the place. I looked back the others, who seemed hesitant to start. I shrugged with a sigh before pointing towards the scattered bodies.

"I guess we'll split up. Holler if you find anything."

With a grunt, I started my search. Like I thought, the number of dead Thalmor outnumbered the number of these masked assailants. Walking upon the first of their fallen, I was a bit hesitant to reach down. I don't know why, but I felt an aura of danger that seemed to radiate from the body. Before I knew it, I'd halfway drawn my sword out of my scabbard before I could regain my composure. These people are dead, Einar. And if they're not, well, you know how to make them dead, I thought as I took a deep breath.

Reaching down, I slowly began to lift the mask off of the figure. In my mind, I pictured the face of a grotesque creature underneath awaiting me. When the face was revealed, I couldn't help but gasp slightly when I saw that instead of a hideous monster I was met with the face of an Altmer man. By his looks, he seemed to be relatively young, no older than thirty years old.

After a few seconds, my shock wore off, and my mind began to try and piece together what I now knew. Being an elf, it was clear that there was no way that this group had any connections with the Stormcloaks, and with the slaughter of the Thalmor guards it was clear that they also weren't with either the Empire or the Dominion. While their armor was black like the Dark Brotherhood's assassins, they bore none of the marking of the shady organization nor had I ever heard of them being so bold as to launch an attack like this on the Thalmor. Every other organization would have no reason to do such an act, which meant the Thieves Guild, the Companions, the College, or even the Dawnguard were to blame. Bandits were also out of the question, as the level of skill and tactics were outside the norms of a simple band of criminals.

Furrowing my eyebrows in frustration, I decided to continue my investigation. This elf had nothing on its person besides its weapons and a small necklace. For the weapons, their designs were...Odd. While I wasn't a certified blacksmith by any means, I knew practically every style of blade making that was present in Skyrim. And in all my years, I had never seen a blade like this.

It was mainly constructed of metal, steel by the look of it. It bore resemblance to the Nordic style of blade construction expect it had an...archaic feel to it. Besides it's mysterious design, the other glaring detail about this blade was that it's outer edge was of a different material that the rest of the blade. It looked almost like bone, but I shook my head at the idea. Such a design would be ridiculous to even think about. Sure, bone weapons were usable to an extent, as the Forsworn made clear with their frequent raids against the Nords. But having a blade like this would only result in the bone being either cut through or broken after a few hits, yet the bone seemed to bear no signs of damage. Furthermore, it was extremely sharp, something that shouldn't be possible after being used in battle like it had been, obvious by the bits of dried blood and gore that stained the blade.

Besides the sword, the other item brought up just as many questions. I wasn't an expert in jewelry, but I could tell that this was both well made and likely expensive at that. Why someone would wear it in battle meant only one thing: It was a religious item. However, I didn't recognize the symbol as anything of the Nine Divines. I was no priest, but I wasn't stupid either.

Looking up, I saw the others had done some investigations themselves, likely stumbling upon the same items as I had. I searched across the sea of dead bodies until I found Komili. If anyone here was going to know what this symbol meant, it would be her. With the necklace in one hand and the sword in the other, I jogged over to where she was until I eventually reached her. As she turned around, I tossed the necklace at her, which she caught much to her surprise.

"Komili, do you have any clue on what this symbol is? It looks religious, but I don't recognize it as something belonging to the Nine Divines. I thought maybe you coul-"

Before I could finish, I noted a cart off in this distance. It didn't belong to the convoy, which meant it was a stranger. I glanced back at Komili.

"Stay here. I need to check this out."

Turning around, I began to cautiously make my way over to where the cart was. I didn't draw my sword, instead I was prepared to use this new blade in my hand instead. While it was possible that it was merely a passerby who stumbled upon this place, I wasn't about to take any chances of us winding up either killed or captured by whoever was next on the "We Hate The Stormcloaks" list.

As I approached, I called out to the driver, who seemed to be returning to her cart. While I was tempted to let whoever this was go, I needed to know at least who they were in case the group needed to escape. I cleared my throat before calling out, keeping the sword lowered but prepared to fight.

"Hail there, traveler! What brings you by he-"

I paused in my tracks, squinting as the driver turned around.

"Haeigr? The blacksmith?"

Her reaction confirmed my thoughts. I fully lowered the sword, instead choosing to hurry over. I knew this woman was a friend of the Stormcloaks, and that she could be trusted. The only question was why she was all the way out here, but I decided that that question could wait.

"Haeigr, what're you doing here? Do you realize how deep in Imperial territory we are right now?"

I paused, my eyebrows furrowing for a second. She's not working for the Imperials now, is she? I thought about it for a few seconds, before shaking off the thought. I couldn't imagine her doing such a thing. As I approached her cart, an idea suddenly popped into my mind. Reaching for the sword, I presented the sword to her, which she reluctantly accepted.

"Say, Haeigr, do you recognize this? I've never seen a design like it before. I'd like to think out of anyone you'd know, based on your travels and such."

[The Ik Ka Ek Akai]

Aeralys had engaged her tracking mode. Scanning over the whole of the wreckage, it was naturally the loot that drew her eye first. As the primary action she took, she made her way to the loot cart that had been left behind, and scanned it and its bags for any valuables. There was, naturally, very little left, and what was had seemed to be lacking any real worth. Moving on to the bodies, examining the Thalmor slain, she found a few scraps of things that might bear value, but hardly what one might expect. She remembered, then, her duty as a huntress, tracker, and keen-eye, and to that end she began at last to examine wounds, scrapes, gashes, and other various signs of struggle littered across the area. In all cases, however, her shallow examination revealed that anything of value had long been stripped away. What a waste!

"Someone has been here," she spoke aloud, "This whole site has been graverobbed. Be wary of things misplaced, everyone."

Aeralys noticed, upon closer examination, that many of the wounds were far from clean. They looked jagged, as if the enemies had needed to struggle to drag their blades through, as though they were using a jagged edge or something imperfectly forged. It was a pattern that recurred again and again across all the Thalmor dead. Taking the time now, she drew her dagger and, one by one, gently placed the sharpened bone against the palms of the Altmer slain and, with her other hand, rammed them through. In this, she could verify the death of each without actually killing them in the process. One after another, they turned out dead and dead again. It was disheartening, but perhaps entirely expected, that such would be the result. It appeared, from analyses, that the ones who survived their initial wounds were slain after the battle, with a few significantly more clean wounds to particularly vital areas, and footprints indicative of such a massacre.

Shuddering, and not just from the general cold of the region, she found an arrow lodged in one unlucky elf. It appeared of particularly crude make, and it reminded her of the nasty death of the horse in the initial ambush. To think back on that beast's scream of terrified agony was uncomfortable, but it brought her attention to a small nearby ledge. Seeing how the body fell, and the angle the arrow was lodged, it was not difficult to trace it back to the ledge. Daintily making her way over, there she found the body of a slain archer, one of the ambushers. His robes were covered in ashes, as if he'd been blasted by fire, and he emitted a stomach-wrenching smell of metallic pork. However, there was a small amount of blood pooled and, in fact, an Elven arrow lodged in his chestplate- the poor bastard had his wound cauterized by the Thalmor magic, perhaps trapping the arrow? She tried to yank it out, wiggling from side to side, and soon used the ground as leverage and the shaft as a lever. The bone armor worn by the archer split with a loud crack, and within she noticed a single peculiarity that shed great light on the strangeness of this group. The bones were hollow.

The bones. Were hollow.

Well, it was no small leap to conclude that they were dragon bones. What other hollow-boned beast of that size would be so strong in its make? A mammoth was her initial guess, but this new information made the whole situation a lot more believable. Aeralys had smuggled some dragon bones in the past, a rare export that was immensely lucrative. She'd heard the tales of dragons in the land of Skyrim at the time, but did not believe it until the action really started going down and confirmation came of the entire town that suddenly ceased to exist- including a couple contacts she had therein. Troublesome, that's what it was, but was at least something she could bring, a potential lead that someone else might be able to connect better. Nobody ever accused her of being an effective anthropologist of the Nords.

How the bones could be hollow yet so strong she attributed to their sheer size, but there was certainly some physics she didn't care to calculate. No, she needed to pay attention to other things- like the strange attackers, for example. Ramming her dagger through his palm, there was no noise except a disturbing crunch. Pulling it out and flicking it around to clear it of blood, she looked over the scene once more. Pilfering the archer for apparently only his amulet, she checked various other bodies to find only the same. It was then that she found one leaning against the cart, seemingly asleep. She naturally only noticed this from a distance, and rather than get up close to pilfer or pillage or stab, she kept her distance. The man was neither Altmer nor Ambusher, so it might be best to not risk a potential trap. Instead, she first made her way to her temporary leader, Einar, to speak out one small detail- "Whatever this is, they've got something to do with dragons. It's what their armor and weapons are made of."

She turned back, "And we've got a friend..." she stated blankly as she stared at the recovering Reachman. Had he heard them? Was he awake? Had he died as well? Whatever the case, she didn't care to get close enough to find out. The sword he clutched to his chest was enough deterrent to warrant at least that much caution. She turned back only to see that Einar had moved on to approach a wagon. Facepalming, she began to wonder if the Nord had heard a single world she'd said. Clearly, at least, he had not much caution to so easily approach a wagon like that.

[Ralnis]

She turned back, "And we've got a friend..." she stated blankly as she stared at the recovering Reachman. Had he heard them? Was he awake? Had he died as well? Whatever the case, she didn't care to get close enough to find out. The sword he clutched to his chest was enough deterrent to warrant at least that much caution. She turned back only to see that Einar had moved on to approach a wagon. Facepalming, she began to wonder if the Nord had heard a single world she'd said. Clearly, at least, he had not much caution to so easily approach a wagon like that.

" Wouldn't say firend Elf, but the Gods have made up their mind for me." Alracongril groaned as he started to slowly get up.

The Reachmen leaned on the longsword as the sharp end of iron dug into the dirt. His brusies were still promient as the effects of the potion didn't make him as healthy as he could be. As he forced his legs to carry himself, he started to have labroed breath with each footstep but he had to lean on the wagon as he tried to hold himself together.

" I'm guessing neither of you called the ambushers, no one but Forsworn use bone and stone for ambushes and they seem to forget to rescue any of you." He said to Aeralys.

" Forgive me for ease-dropping, was trying to sleep till I could move without leaning on a rock but I didn't expect to see other survivors still around. Name's Alracongril, my crime is being at the wrong place at the wrong time while cutting down two Thalmor agents while getting ambushed by a fireball to my "good looks". He tries to chuckle through his pain.

[Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States]

Ma'Harr

Ma’Harr walked silently through the remains of yesterday’s battle. Very silently indeed, his feet were naturally padded and quiet. He had never seen a battle before this one, nor had he seen so many dead. It was horrifying, which isn’t what he had expected. He had seen so many dead before, be it dead from hundreds or thousands of years ago. What made a skeleton of an old Nord any different from these bodies? Perhaps they were still too recognisable as living beings. Some of these he had seen die before his eyes the day before. Now, they were silent, their eyes cold and empty. Ma’Harr couldn’t stop shuddering every few seconds, the wind felt very cold that day, and the silence only made it all more haunting. The sweet smell of death surrounded them, a smell he had also never sensed before. Old bones all smelled of dust and old books.

Ma’Harr had been quiet ever since they had been loaded on the cart. He was naturally reserved, especially in Skyrim. The Nords didn’t need any excuse to crack racial slurs in his presence, which is why he’d waited so long to visit the northern province. Especially Stormcloaks of whom there seemed to be a few in the prisoner cart as well. It wasn’t a good gig to be trapped between the Thalmor on one side, who apparently wanted him for suspected murder, and the Stormcloaks, who would always keep a hand on their purse whenever he was nearby.

He had considered just leaving. He had planned it, seen it as the logical thing to do. However, waking up, seeing the sun rise in the distance, he had faltered. What could he do? There was no place for him to go. He could sneak across the border into Cyrodiil, and then? The Thalmor would be upon him soon enough. It wouldn’t take them long to find out what happened to the prisoner transport, and they would not allow such violence to happen undisturbed. They would hunt them down one by one if they separated. They would hunt them down too if they stayed together. However, he fancied his chances with the group. At least they could fend off an attack together if it happened. Ma’Harr chose to stay quiet as long as possible. Perhaps there would be an opportunity to cross the border into Hammerfell soon enough, or to go underground in one of the cities. Stay low for a while. Yes, that was the best recourse. And since these were Stormcloaks, what stopped him from betraying them? They would do the same to him.

Still needing something to do, but with his left hand resting on the hilt of his scimitar, Ma’Harr began to search the bodies. He didn’t even think about it properly, it was something he had done so many times before. The dead do not own anything, and they did owe him something for the grief they caused. He took everything he could find of value: rings, jewellery, magical items… Anything he could fit in a purse or one of his pockets. He felt the burning stares of some of the others while he did so. He was conforming to their stereotype of Khajiit, that was certain. He had half a mind to call them out over it, but then decided against it. There was no reason to antagonise these people, no honour to defend. As long as he could get out of there as fast as possible.

He had collected a few of the amulets all their ambushers seemed to carry. Well-made, ornate, and they all had them… It was their identifying mark. Religious too, it seemed. The chatty Nord, Einar, who had branded himself their leader somehow, was showing it to a High Elf. Apparently, she was the go-to for that kind of knowledge. For a moment, Ma’Harr felt passed over, but then he remembered he hadn’t told these people a thing about himself. So, instead of sulking, he decided to sit on a tree stump near the Nord and the High Elf, who was apparently named Komili. Listening intently, he wondered if Komili would come to the same conclusion as him on the subject. While he did so, he looked intently at the engravings of the amulet, letting it run through his hands and inspecting it for flaws and value.

[Xah]

Haeigr Flamehair
Ambush site
Somewhere in Skyrim

The arrival of the newcomers caught Haeigr somewhat by surprise and, for a brief moment, panic flared through her as she thought either the Thalmor had arrived, or the original attackers were back. It was a bit of a relief when a voice actually called her by name. She turned and narrowed her eyes before recognition flickered. "Einar? right?" The sight of a Nord, and a Stormcloak at that, was only slightly reassuring. She'd seen this particular one around; his height was a good marker, but it was their shared hair colour that really made him stand out. He was also not so bad at the forge, which always gained people a plus mark in Haeigr's book; if you're going to use weapons and tools, at least have the good grace to know how to look after them.

Haeigr gave a slight shrug at the mention of Imperial territory. "The lines move around a lot," she commented. "Couple of days ago I was in Stormcloak land, one battle later and I'm in Imperial. Trying to get back but it's slow going with ol' Stinky here." She slapped her oxen on the rump and indicated towards the remains of the ambush. "This your doing? You know the Thalmor get miffed at being picked on around here, but that lot over there doesn't look like your usual crew." An eyebrow raises. "You're not going rogue are you? Thinking of banditry?"

She took the offered sword and turned it over in her hands. "This is unusual; ancient Nordic, kind of thing you find in Draugr infested ruins, but it's been modified." She extended it out and looked down the blade before inspecting the hilt. "Not bad craftsmanship, but it's not my favourite fashion. From what I've heard, and what I can tell from the work, there's a smith north of Winterhold makes weapons like this. Bit of a trek to get there though." Haeigr hands the weapon back and looked up again at the assorted group and then back at Einar "If you're wanting to get back to Stormcloak areas, I'd appreciate the company. If you're up to something else, I might be open to a bit of a distraction, even if your companions are a bit... exotic."

[New Finnish Republic]

Scene of the ambush

I followed Haeigr's gaze back towards the others, and I couldn't help but nod my head in agreement.

"Aye, it's a bit different than the usual company I keep. I doubt many back home would smile upon me working with Elves and Khajiit."

I shrugged, turning back around to look back at her.

"Still, they seem capable enough, and if they had wanted me dead they would've killed me long ago. I suppose I can set aside our...differences for the time being."

Racism was something we Nords were unfortunately known for amongst the other races of Tamriel. The misconception was that we somehow held grudges against the other races for no good reason, which was far from the case. We simply wanted a land of our own, free from control of those who weren't even our own people and to be able to live as a Nord should. If certain races attempt to either undermine or directly oppose that, they should expect at the minimum a bit of disdain.

However, given my current situation, I couldn't let such a thing get in the way of my goal. I needed to focus on finding Emily, and at this point I'd happily thank even an Altmer if it meant I could return my comrade back to safety. A Nord should be strong with his convictions, but he also should be wise when dealing with others both in battle and in peace.

Before I could continue my chatting, I heard the sound of Aeralys's voice calling out to me. Turning around, I nearly jumped with surprise to see another figure suddenly beginning to stand up near a cart. From the looks of it, it appeared to be a Reachman, which made me instinctively reach for my sword's hilt. The wild Reachmen tribes attacked anyone who ever came near them, whether they were Imperial, Stormcloak, or just ordinary citizens. They weren't to be trusted, and had I stumbled upon him I'd likely have buried my sword into his gut the minute I saw him twitch.

It was likely a good thing then that the Bosmer had found him first, as it was immediately clear that the man was hardly in any shape to try and put up a fight. While he held a sword in his hands, I could tell by the way he struggled to even stand that on his own feet. I glanced back at Haeigr, unsure of what to do next before I decided I was better off at least talking to the Reachman first.

"I suppose our party has gotten more... interesting. Let's just pray our new found friend isn't planning on sacrificing us to any hagravens."

With much reluctance, I began to head towards where Aeralys and the man were. While I kept my sword in its scabbard, I made sure to keep one hand on its hilt, prepared to draw the weapon should he try anything. Along the way, I noted our mysterious Khajiit named... Mahan? Mar? Whatever his name was, sitting next to a tree. I had a hard time pronouncing these cat-like people's names, and an even harder time trusting them completely. Twice I had experienced a wondering Khajiit trying to loot our camps, no doubt looking to sell off whatever he could to fuel what was likely a skooma addiction. In general, I saw them as nothing better than rascals, but this one seemed different. I'd keep an eye on him, but at the moment I had no issues with his company. Perhaps his talents, whatever they were, would come in handy later.

Reaching Aeralys and the Reachman, I stopped a good distance away, crossing my arms as I surveyed the man before me. Indeed, he looked as though he was banged up, and from the looks of it looked like it had happened recently. My guess was he was one of the other prisoners who had escaped as well, and ended up fighting his way out. At least we know he can fight, I thought as I raised my eyebrows at the Bosmer. After a few awkward moments of silence, I finally spoke up.

"I take it you were another special guest of the Thalmor, correct? If that's the case, I'm surprised you're still hanging around here, Reachman. I'd thought you would have gone off to rejoin your own kind, seeing as we're not too far from the Reach."

I paused for a second before letting of a small sigh. What in Talos's name am I about to do? I uncrossed my arms and reached out with an open hand.

"However, if you're still here, I'm guessing you've got a reason for not going back. If that's the case, I'd appreciate to have someone to aid in my efforts to try and figure out just what happened here. If you have any idea at all, I would be more than willing to offer protection from either Imperials or the Thalmor."

[Theyra]

Ambrush site
Ravonl Larethwatch

Ravonl was looking around the ambush site before he started to inspect the bodies. He had been in an ambushes before and this seem like no different from the ones he was in. It kinda reminded him of a ambush he was apart of during the Great War. Only it was the Dominion leading it and left plenty of dead Imperials. Ravonl shook his head when he recalled the memory to bury it. The Great War did not leave many good memories for him and he wished to not think of it. He heard the Bosmer named Aeralys say that the site had been looted and that someone had been here. "Great and hopefully the looters did not take anything that would be usefully to figuring out who attacked", Ravonl thought to himself. He walked to one of the Thalmor bodies and couched down to examined it.

Ravonl made a small smirk when he was examining the body. He never thought he would care about who killed a Thalmor but, this is a special case. The only things he could gather from the body was that the wounds seemed to from a axe. Also, that the wounds were not clean but, looked like the weapon had a jagged edge or something. Ravonl looked up to see if there was a attacker body near him and spotted one relativity close. He walked over to the body and started to examine it. The first thing he did was to take off the mask covering it's face and was surprised when he saw a Redguard under the mask. "Hmmm, a little away from home and I wonder what brought you to Skyrim", Ravonl said to himself. He looked over at the Reguard's weapon which was still near him and picked it up. It was a sword but, Ravonl could not identity the style and only knew that is was not of Altmer make. He put down the sword and searched the body. He was curiosity about the bones in the armor and he found a strange amulet on the body. Ravonl looked up when he heard Einar speak to Komili about what the symbol means and tossed a amulet to her.

Ravonl stood up with the amulet in hand and started to think about the three that concerned the group last night. That one that spoke seem to be a powerful mage to do those spells but, those two guards. Black armor and horns coming from their helmets. Black armor and horns he thought to himself. Ravonl looked at Einar and noticed he and Aeralys were next to what appears to be a survivor. He walked up to the three and turned to Einar. "Einar what can you tell us about Emily? "Anything to why these people wanted her? "Because they have rather unique equipment and they do not look from a group that is known".

[The Assorted Saharan Outposts]

Komili had glanced around the scene of the ambush, humming a small church hymn as she walked among the scene of a former battle even now she prayed for these lost souls, wishing them safe guidence into whichever afterlife the gods had reserved for them. Once more she muttered a prayer, the one thing she's done the most since being arrested, and let out a sigh. Pointless bloodshed.

Komili, though, was caught off guard by the Nord, the one who started this little adventure in the first place, talking to him. He asked of an amulet of possible religious origins and she grew curious. She hummed as she was able to take but a glance at it before the Nord walked away. The hybrid frowned and walked towards him. "Wait, let me see that again. I believe I know where that's from. If I'm not wrong."

Komili would approach the Nord and look at the amulet once more. Two dragons chasing each other, forming a circle. In the middle of the two dragons was a stone, the centerpiece of the amulet. In the stone were small engravings. Little symbols that she faintly recognized frommher studies. She hummed softly, a look of wonderment and curiosity mixed as she felt the urge to reach a hand out and touch it.

"Dragon cult. That's for certain," Komili muttered, sounding almost as if she was talking to herself as she admired the work. This was made by really fine hand...very keen attention to detail. "If I had to guess...it's from the First Era. Though I could be wrong. Dragon cults haven't been a major topic of my study..."

"May I...keep this, though?" she asked as she held her hand out hopefully for the amulet. "I'd like to hold it. Collecting religious items is a hobby of mine, if not also a part of the job, in a way. Besides, I do like how it looks..."

[Ralnis]

Ambush Site

A million memories came rushing back to the Reachmen. The Nord's hand and speech made him relived of his past, the raids against the Stormcloaks and the history of the longsword he kept with him. Even in his pain he remembered the battles and the struggle his tribe had to face since Ulfric slaughtered them and the Silver-bloods imprison their King. He gripped his longsword tightly as his heart started to race in pumping adrenaline to summoned what strength he recovered. Yet he took a deep breath, his younger years were filled with passion and anguish but he needed to understand the situation he was in and the years he spent inside Skyrim's cities and the honorable duels that he had from those who believe themselves to be the "free sons and daughters of Skyrim".

He grabbed the hand and smirked under the pain," the Old Gods are a strange bunch indeed. Working with one of my people's sworn enemies. However common enemies make friends out of foes."

After he shook it then he gave a sigh," my name is Alracongril, Reachmen. As for going back to my people, let's just say that under political circumstances, I will be hunted down and killed by my people. I can fight as I'm a duelist around Skyrim of some report so I can fight."

Alracongril had started to look around before he remembered something," I was tied up and smacked around by Thalmor before the ambush started, fought as I could between them ambushing me prior and whoever attacked them. From the looks of the bone, could be some sort of cult as no Forsworn were robes, not even the hagravens."

[Rodez]

Tharsten Seabourne

Tharsten drifted from body to body, observing the various wounds and removing the horned helms of the bone-clad attackers when he came across them. The most striking, bizarre thing was the diversity of the assailants: here a Nord, there a Bosmer, here a Dunmer. It was almost . . nonsensical, like they had stumbled upon a platoon from the Fighter's Guild.

As he bent over the stricken body of a fallen Imperial, Tharsten overheard Komili's description of the amulet just a few feet away. He stood and turned to her. "Dragon cult? For certain? The bone armor and weapons certainly lends itself to that explanation." He gestured about. "But it's strange. Dragon cults are - were, religious groups of the Nords in the First Era, as you say. What I don't understand is that we seem to have stumbled upon a who's who of Tamriel. I've never heard of a dragon cult that pulls members from every race of the continent. Dragon worship is solely a Nordic practice, unless I am mistaken."

Tharsten glanced back at the singed treeline, where they had made their escape only to confront the strange figure who had taken Emily. "They used a portal as well. Probably simple teleportation . . but I don't know. The whole thing was just bizarre. I see no reason to rule out Daedric assistance or influence here."