The Elder Scrolls: Hammerfell [IC]

[Torchina]

Romana Larcius
The Docks, Rihad, Hammerfell

---

Romana found herself extremely pleased with the way that the conversation was going with the dunmer, they had spoken of song, one of the merchant's preferred things. Third only to gold and wine. And it seemed that she may have turned a pleasant listening experience into a future sale. Rihad truly was a perfect city of opportunity. However, she soon found herself taken aback by the sudden appearance of the khajit merchant, one of those odd ones that seemed more mer than cat. And swiftly the young imperial found herself on the back foot for once, a situation that she was more than used to being in. What was it about those divine damned desert cats and their propensity for silver laced words and seemingly unnatural ability to sell. That being said, maybe she should diversify her business interests, exotic goods was of course code for skooma with those from Elsweyr and Romana had heard that the moon sugar sold well, not just in Hammerfell but across all of Tamriel. The human woman pondered the idea of possibly taking the woman up on her offer, barely noticing the orcish bard approaching the elf and their subsequent talk of music. Not that it particularly mattered what Romana's answer would be, for her thoughts were decimated by fire and death.

The first explosion rocked Romana to her core, her posture instantly changing to that akin of a startled deer found downwind from a hunter. Her eyes darted side to side before she managed to locate the thick black smoke coming from the docks, something had hit the docks, Rihad was under attack. Her stock! Her ship! Before she could react further, the eerie sound of ungodly whistling and explosions further rocked the area. The screaming and wailing of women and babes filled the air and Romana finally tore her gaze away from the ocean and found that the group with who she was standing with had since departed, fleeing with the crowd most likely.

The imperial merchant looked toward the direction where the crowd was headed, toward the north it seemed. And in that moment, she made a split-second choice, she moved against the crowd. Fighting her way as a salmon upstream back toward the Zenithar's Gambit, finding herself jostled by the crowd and cursed at for her seeming insanity. Another explosion went off not far from where she was moving, decimating a small little shopfront in fire and blood. Smoke and screams choked the air, but Romana was not about to let up on her dreams. Scanning the horizon, she finally saw the Gambit, the once busy ship was now half sunk into the ocean. That which was not submerged was burning. Romana paused, allowing herself to be jostled back with the crowd as a whole. Her dream was shattered.

An explosion rocked near her, throwing her back two feet, and smashing the woman's head against the pavement. Tentatively, Romana raised a hand to the back of her head and was almost aghast as she felt it was warm and wet. The thought didn't even seem real as it processed in her head, she was bleeding, and she needed to move. Romana joined the fighting crowd, forcing her way through to the front, her left hand held firmly against the back of her head as she did so.

"Out of my way!" Romana screamed, drawing her orcish dagger with her right hand, using the threat of force to fight her way through the crowd. Trying desperately to ignore the sounds of death around her and her own wound.

The north gate was her only hope, she was caught in the crowd of people, but by the nine she would not die in that crowd.

[Beiarusia]

Kari Beaufort
Peyman's Inn, Rihad, Hammerfell


She follows the Imperial inside the inn as they talk in pleasant conversation. Niriseus has already commandeered them a table in the far corner of the tavern's communal space, well enough away from the mid-afternoon drunks, with a few of their belongings set aside and the remainder stowed away in safety in the room they'd purchased for the night. The Argonian leaves Kari to her business, choosing instead to remain close at hand should he be needed. A dutiful protector.

"I have no intention of doing you harm," says Quintus, unafraid of the Argonian bodyguard who'd more than welcome a challenge. The Imperial was in Hammerfell in search of a pirate, but he refrains from saying much more on the topic. He continues with a smirk. "Suffice it to say, if you meet any swarthy Redguard miscreants, I wouldn't follow them to bed."

Kari can't say she's knowledgeable on the subject of pirates and mercenary business, but has standards when dealing with bandits regardless of if they travel by road or boat. She tells the man as such. "I do 'ave standards you know. If I swooned after every man and gal who could swing a sword like some daft, lovestruck barmaid I'd 'ave never made it out of High Rock. And on the scale of things I'd consider, from personal experience, bandits rank low." She gestures with a level hand the bottoms of her intangible scale. Then, with a coy grin, she adds, "And don't think ya special, Mr Imperial, because ya not, in case ya were thinking otherwise, or thought me the type to enjoy a night on me back.

"As for blood... do you hear that?"

Moments later there is an explosion. Loud, deafening almost, as the shockwave frees dust and sand from the rafters and sandstone walls. The patrons go silent, turning in unison to look towards the open doorway, towards the ocean, with dumbstruck expressions as a second blast rocks the nearby dockyard. Screams and the unsettling scent of smoke. The whistle of artillery. A few men go to the windows to peer outside. The more adventurous head further to the avenue. Niriseus is already standing and on guard with a clawed hand gripping the hilt of his steel sword.

The next explosion is much closer. The building across the way collapses from a direct hit, and only now do the patrons of Peyman's Inn panic. Many choose to run; others hide underneath tables and chairs. A few don't know what to do and stand frozen in place.

Niriseus is already at Kari's side. "We should be leaving," he says, ignoring the Imperial entirely.

Kari can't really disagree. "Our things?"

The Argonian doesn't hesitate to go and grab their belongings. He returns seconds later carrying both his rucksack and Kari's, everything they own minus the nonessentials that can be replaced. Kari keeps the parasol tucked under an arm (lest it be broken) as she heads outside, cowl pulled down low to shield her face from the harsh sunlight. Throngs of people are running now as more shells strike the city. Chaos. Entertaining, but with the risk of being caught in a wayward blast. Not as thrilling.

She pauses in the doorway to glance back towards the Imperial. "Kari, by the way. Me name. I'd get moving now before, ya know, ya blow up something awful."

[Grozav Inima]

Quintus Marius, Rihad Docks

The Imperial was somewhat taken back by the Vampire's coyness, and sharp tongue. She accosted Quintus for his brashness, "And don't think ya special, Mr Imperial, because ya not, in case ya were thinking otherwise, or thought me the type to enjoy a night on me back," she said. Quintus responded with a grin and let out a slight chuckle. You could never know with Vampires, she could be anywhere from thirty to three hundred years old, and they often had wit that you wouldn't expect of the undead.

Before he could continue speaking, and explosion rocked the Inn,

"By the Nine! What in the name of Talos?" Quintus stood up, grabbing his rucksack which contained his armour, weaponry, and the rest of his belongings. He paused for a moment as the Vampire and her Argonian bodyguard rushed towards the door, grabbing what they could. He followed suit, and mad it out the door into the raging throngs of the street. He noticed the Breton just ahead, who turned and told him her name. Quintus just nodded, staring out at the harbour, where those ships he had noticed earlier, now seemed much closer, as he watched for a moment he could see the ships fling their fire upon Rihad, his eyes widened for a moment as his worst fears came true.

They must be Dominion, the thought to himself, But what business would they have attacking a port town like this?. He made his way through the jostling, panicked crowd. It was suffocating, being in such a large throng of people all flowing in the same direction. He knew the nearest gate, it was on the main road, to the north, as it was the way he had entered the city.

He continued with the crowd, flowing like a raging current to the northernmost gate, which was now wide open and letting the civilians through. The shells of spellfire continued to burn through the sky, blasting into the city without remorse. He stopped for a moment as he saw one sail over his head, and land a few hundred metres ahead of him, fire leapt into the sky, and the screams of those burning in agony pierced his ears and mind.

"Talos guide me," he said to himself, eyes closed. He opened his eyes and ran ahead, some of the crowd had paused. He continued ahead, in spite of it all, casting a quick spell on himself to protect himself from the fire which seemed to be everywhere now. He wasn't far from the gate, and with half the citizenry blocking the gate now a pile of charred corpses, he was able to slip through and onto the other side.

Out of the city, most of the people seemed relieved, but Quintus knew it was barely much safer than back in the city, without the safety of the city walls the unarmed populace would be sitting ducks for any attacking force in these wide plains. He knew he had to get out, but he didn't know where to go. His first thought was to return to Cyrodiil, but crossing through active frontlines of the invading force, Imperial or not, could be dangerous. He paused for his breath for a while, and thought, regardless of what he did, he wasn't going to be able to make the journey on foot, alone.

[Emericia]

Alyssa the Paladin
The Docks, Rihad, Hammerfell

---

Hammerfell was one of the few places Alyssa hadn't been, probably because most creatures of darkness avoided the desert province like the plague. The heat and the brightness of the land would provide a valuable advantage, should such a creatures present itself. The sand on the other hand definitely wouldn't. Nothing like course sand and a stuff wind to strip the silver off a blade, or thoroughly clog armor joints and mail. Still, better than Rivenspire and it's jagged crags, cracked beaten earth and general bleakness.

Having finally arrived in the city of Rihad, the Paladin decided that the first order of the day should be to locate a shrine and make communion with Stendarr. Clunking down the pier the ship she'd arrived in, the Paladin made her way into the crowds of the dock in search of a shrine to Stendarr.

Thankfully the search didn't take too long, and the Paladin arrived at the shrine. Alyssa knelt with several others already in prayer to Stendarr and recited the Prayer of the Resolute.

"Blessed be the name of Stendarr, the God of Mercy."
"He strengthens and unifies his Resolutes through his wisdom and blessings."
"He calls us by day to train with sword and shield to strengthen our might; and by night to pray in his name to strengthen our souls."
"He takes pity upon us, his humble servants, and grants unto us mer-"

The prayer was cut short by a whistle and an explosion as a near by building was struck and erupted into flame.

"Stendarr's mercy..." the Paladin uttered.

Shaking off the shock, Alyssa shouted an order to run, not that anyone needed prompting. Chaos erupted as the masses made a hasty exodus from the city. A shell of spellfire struck another building, sending burning shrapnel into the crowd. Alyssa charged through the crowd toward the injured, employing restoration magic to bind the wounds of the injured. Another spellfire shell struck, shaking the ground and throwing shrapnel about. The Paladin threw an incapacitated man over her shoulder and ran in the direction the few stragglers, hoping they knew where to go.

Thankfully they did, and the Alyssa made it clear of the city gates.

[Free States of Agnosicstan]

Lolivah Sadaen, Rihad Docks

Lolivah clenched her fist slightly at the interrupting woman. That object was practically hers by right, and...That big Nord was probably an idiot about the whole thing as well. She sighed in frustration, looking around the docks with folded arms.

When the Nord asked what was to be offered, Lolivah searched herself for her coinpurse, muttering to herself. "I can pay!" She exclaimed as she searched. "Unlike that filthy Fetcher sticking to you like ash sticks to a boot." She added, still searching for that coinpurse. She wasn't sure where she'd hidden it on herself this time. She muttered to herself as she searched her pockets.

She heard the sounds of whistling, but didn't bother to look up until she heard the surprised exclimations and the earth-shattering crashes of the unknown weapons impacting the docks. Never one who was steady on her feet, Lolivah soon lost all sense of balance and fell to the ground roughly. The likely-panicked crowds didn't help her standing up effort, and she struggle to just avoid being horribly trampled by the mass of panicked people. She swore, looking around for any spot that could possibly be clear, attempting to crawl towards it.

[Theodosiya]

Hallin's Stand
Hammerfell
Marius Lex & Jadezzar


"Hallin's Stand. Finally. Well, I guess it's time" the caravan leader spoke toward Marius and Jadezzar. "Good luck on your travels. Here's your pay" he handed two pouch of Septims to the pair. "I hope we can meet under better circumstances, one day" he added. "I wish so, old man. Hope your journeys would be profitable. Give my warm regard to Legate Clovis Admand in Wayrest. Say that it's from a veteran Imperial Praefect of Reach campaign" Marius replied, after counting the coins, and shake the hand of the Breton. "May your road lead to warm sands" Jadezzar spoke, and the Breton put his hand on Jadezzar shoulder, smile, and said "And I hope Gods protect you on your journeys, young one" before he enters the inn where most of the caravan members rest. "Young one" Jadezzar chuckled, prompting Marius to grin. "You're just, what, twenty three?" He walked toward the city centre, Jadezzar following behind. "Hey, I'm not that young. And a merc to boot" he grunts, as they walked past dozens of people. "Oh come on. I'm already a veteran when I became a merc" Marius replied, as he stopped outside a five-storey inn. "Fine" Jadezzar grunts, "beside that means I still got more years to live". "Ah, shut up" Marius looked up at the fifth floor, smaller than the rest and more like a tower "Seems like a nice big inn" he looked around the inn. "And close enough to the city centre, market and gate" he continues. "Which means a nice place to observe the situation here. " Jadezzar looked at the patrols of Redguard warriors. "But for now, let's get inside. Get nice room, food and beverages. Been lacking those after days on road" Marius walked in, followed by Jadezzar.

The inn is quite crowded, with dozens of patrons and barmaids moving around. After some difficulty, due to their equipment, they reached the bar counter and sat. The owner of the inn noticed the pair and come toward them. "What can I do for both of you mercs?" He asked. "Two loaf of bread, one grilled meat, cheese, leeks, cabbages, and two bottle of beer. And a room with two single bed on the fifth floor" Marius spoke, while handling some Septims, Jadezzar grins at the inn owner. "Alright. Akhbar, Hisham, make sure that room is ready. Azita, we got a pair of hungry mercenaries here. And is there anything else that I could do?" The inn owner leans toward the pair behind the bar. "Actually, yeah" Jadezzar replied, while Marius carefully looks around before speaking "We need information, lots of them. And maybe more" as he reached for some additional gold. "What information you guys want, eh? Something risky and very important?" He chuckles, before leaning even closer. "That, and some unspeakable things one should left unspoken in public" Marius spoke in lower voice. "I'm listening" the inn owner replied, as he looked around. "Excellent..., now, here's the thing "Marius spoke...

[The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness]

Arvesa Vess
Hammerfell

---

Rihad was burning, and there were but scant few who sought to stem the tide - the continues bombardment coming from the mystery fleet out on the sea made sure of that. Instead, the people of Rihad ran, many trying to make their escape from the city before it would be too late. One could only speculate what would come after the bombardment, and many weren't all that keen on being there to find out about it. Arvesa Vess was one of them as she sped through the crowds, navigating her way past panicked locals hurrying for the gates. The Khajiit she had seen earlier had navigated, wisely perhaps, to higher ground, at the same time shouting out the occasional directions for those trying to get out of the city - considering her earlier attitude and everything she knew of the Khajiiti people in general, the Dunmer was surprised, albeit not in the most negative of ways, even if she wondered what profit the cat would try to strike out of it at a later point.

People moved out of her way without too much resistance, she had found, undoubtedly because of the glistening malachite blade in her hands, the green crystal it was fashioned from sharp enough to cut through most things with but touch. There was no need for bloodshed luckily enough, however, or at least not on her part, and Arvesa managed to speed for the gate unhindered, only slowing down a little every time she felt the instinctive need to readjust her backpack ever so slightly (and her precious lute, of course!). Shooting a glance behind her, she found herself more than glad at how she had opted to make a run for it as soon as the first projectiles had hit the docks, seeing how the fires were starting to swallow it whole - or at least, so it seemed to be from where she was. Undoubtedly, the rest of the city could well follow soon, something she was certainly not intent on witnessing with her own eyes, either.

She made her way out of the city, stumbling through the northern gates and onto the road, relieved. Arvesa followed the stream of fleeing townsfolk for a while, until soon, they reached a crossroad. Taking a moment to catch her breath, the Dunmer stepped aside, shaking her head. Rihad was burning, still, and the bombardment did not seem to cease - at least from what she could see from where she found herself. The road diverged into different directions, here, and her red eyes focused on the signpost that gave directions to the unaware. The road leading eastwards went for Cyrodiil - and more specifically Anvil and the Colovian Highlands. This was the path most of fleeing townsfolk seemed to be taking - the alternative, it seemed, was much further away. Westwards, the road lay to Sentinel, and Anvil was indeed far, far closer by.

The Dunmer snorted, displeased. She had only just arrived here, in Hammerfell. She most certainly would not go back to Anvil yet: her journey had only just started, and she wouldn't let something such as a city being torched to the ground stop her! And even then... as if she'd journey alongside a whole band of Redguard refugees. The thought alone! Taking off her backpack, Arvesa quickly checked if everything was still there, before coming to her decision - westward it would be. Pushing through the crowds that were still pouring through the gates and navigating the road, she crossed the path and gave herself a confident nod, before following the way that signpost indicated would lead for Sentinel. Hammerfell was hers to explore and, at least proverbially, conquer still.

The smoke coming from Rihad was not enough to block out the sun, and it beamed down onto the people travelling the roads for the remainder of the day, unrelenting. Still, Arvesa, at least, was fleet of foot, and managed a fair pace, albeit with the occasional break. Mercifully enough, as the sun slowly began to set, the Dunmer arrived at a small, local town, located right next to the road, and with some very inviting sources of fresh water nearby. The buildings were of typical Redguard making, fashioned from sandstone in the case of some buildings, but mud brick for most. The two largest buildings were made out of sandstone - one appeared to be the local inn, judging by the camel-toting sign hanging from it, and the other undoubtedly belonged to whoever was in charge of this settlement.

As she entered the town, which she learned was named Zanfir, it was evident that she wasn't the first, and several refugees had arrived already, mostly families from Rihad that had grabbed whatever they could with them before running - in the case of some, they had the luck to have had horses to carry them here, the stables by the inn filled. As she went to refill her water flasks, Arvesa's eyes fell onto a noticeboard, and as she put them away she wandered over to them, inspecting the board for a moment. WANTED:, she read, Dunerippers. Before the Dunmer could continue reading, however, a man spoke behind her, and she turned around, peering at the short-haired, aging Redguard man that now stood in front of her, fancily dressed in luxurious purple clothes as he was. "Another refugee? Although you are interested in work, perhaps? You look more well-equipped for it than most that passed through Zanfir, at least." She tilted her head. "I might be. I was just reading. What is it to you, sera...?" The man blinked, before giving a bow, quickly introducing himself. "Forgive me! Magister Hasuq at-Salan. I run the day-to-day affairs in this town. Needless to say, I am ensuring all refugees will be fed, but..." Arvesa squinted, quickly glancing at the noticeboard again. "...but you have a problem with... dunerippers, hmm? Arvesa Vess. A pleasure. Is there any place left here for someone to stay the night...?" The man shook his head at that. "The inn is filled to the brim already. Although people that are willing to set out and help us with these dunerippers are free to stay the night in my family's home..." The Redguard suggested, before continuing. "They have been an issue to our town the past few weeks now, and I fear that casualties may fall if they aren't dealt with swiftly, with all these people fleeing Rihad, now..." The Dunmer nodded. "I see. I'll claim a spot, then. I'll ask around, see if anyone else is interested... The big sandstone building that isn't the inn then, I assume?" He gave a nod in response. "Indeed! Although if you would excuse me, miss..." He bowed, before departing, quickly seeing to it that what few guards the town had continued keeping the proceedings orderly.

Arvesa, meanwhile, quickly took a drink from one of her flasks, waiting by the water well for a moment, before eventually pulling the notice off of the board, now that more people had arrived, and holding it up, speaking loudly. "Right!" She began, simply. "Which one of you is interested in getting rid of some dunerippers? They're going to be a problem for this town, their hides are worth good coin, and you'll not only get paid but you'll get a meal and a bed for the night, too! If there's any takers, come to me." This, naturally, made sure that only the people that she thought were capable of doing anything of use could tag along - exactly the way she wanted it to be. Smiling faintly, the Dunmer waited.

[Zanera]

Abadol gro-Malok
Straight outta Rihad
A Town Named...Zanfir

---

It was a hot-ass day and it didn't get cooler. The sun beat down and down and down as Abadol walked along. No one that lived in Hammerfell could complain much about the sun, the heat just was. It was cooler up in the Dragontails, but he wasn't in the Dragontails, was he? No. He was a refugee lugging heavy armor in heat that could easily kill someone. But he was complaining now, and it wasn't like he had headed towards cooler Cyrodiil. There was a merchant that had plopped down his camel along the side of the road, pitched an awning, and had began to sell waterskins at expensive prices. Of course, he forgot there would be people to take advantage of the crisis. He couldn't monitor the merchant all day to make sure he sold at lower prices. Abadol continued on as the merchant drew a small crowd.

He looked down at his shoulderbag. At least it was intact. He barely had money and very few possessions outside of that bag, and he couldn't expect money from these refugees because he acted out a good story. As the crowd moved toward Taneth, which was whoever had not went east, Abadol broke from the road and sat in the sand, getting out his waterskin and drinking enough to relieve his throat. Dozens passed by until he got up again, the elderly orc moving into some town of sandstone and dried mud. Pithoi containing anything from spices to grain to water sitting under torn awnings flapping so lightly one had to stare to notice. There was wind enough in Hammerfell that there were sandstorms in the Alik'r Desert, but otherwise there was no respite from the sun except in sitting in the shade. Even better, the Dunmer bard from Rihad was calling for some help with a job so they could get free grub and beds. "I might as well join. I'm going to get low on money if I don't manage it. I've faced enough dunerippers for a lifetime, so I know a couple things."

[Emericia]

Alyssa the Paladin
Hammerfell

---

The Paladin had parted ways with the previously incapacitated man upon him regaining consciousness, him being very eager to find his family. Now shoulder to shoulder with the previous residence of Rihad in the mass exodus from the city.

The deserts of Hammerfell were... desolate. The sun beat down anything and everything, without pause or discrimination and sand wisped by on the wind, nipping at any uncovered flesh. Still, Alyssa trudged along with the refugees of Rihad, despite being as-yet unprepared for desert travel.

Several merchants had set up stalls next to the road, taking advantage of the ill-prepared nature of the journey by selling supplies at exuberant amounts, and as much as the Paladin contested the idea, she was left with no choice but to trade with them. Thankfully, she managed to get one of the merchants to part with a water-skin for less than the initial price. Still woefully overpriced at 30 septims, but far better than what most other had to pay.

Taking a drink from the newly acquired water-skin, Alyssa noted the road had split in two, each direction pointed by a sign. Both pointed to Cyrodiil: one to Anvil; the other to Sentinel. The majority of the crowed chose Anvil, being closer by, but was less than a thrilling prospect for the Paladin. Leaving Hammerfell as soon as arriving would be pointless, and the large chapter of Vigilant of Stendarr that resided in Anvil didn't make the prospect any more enticing. She decided to take the road to Sentinel, feeling considerably better now with quenched thirst.

Just before nightfall, Alyssa came to the small town of Zanfir. It was a quaint place, most buildings being constructed from mud brick, with the exception of the inn and what must be the town's leader's residence. Despite the minority of the crowd taking the road to Sentinel, the inn was completely packed, and being a desert the night would be colder than steel, ruling out the idea of sleeping outside.

Stendarr was merciful once again, offering an alternative to the dilemma in the form of a Dunmer offering bed & board in exchange for ridding the the place of some 'dunerippers', not that Alyssa needed motivation to perform such a task. So she sought ought the Dunmer.

"I heard you offering bed & board in exchange for clearing some dunerippers from the area." the Paladin stated.

"I'd be happy to help you with such a task. I'm not particular familiar with dunerippers, haling from Highrock, but I'm more than capable in battle." the Paladin continued.

[The Ik Ka Ek Akai]

Watching the lifeless hordes of refugees meandering down an empty, lonely road, Zirani saw a duality in the present situation. Each individual refugee seemed entirely unaware of their surroundings, instead simply going through the motions of life- and yet, despite this seeming affliction, they were as numerous as the entirety of the city, moving in total unison and crowded as tightly to one another as the street could possibly allow. The baffling display of conflicted realities greatly confused the Khajiit, who found no other alternative but to join the slow march. After all, going back into town wasn't really an option anymore.

Through the desert they walked and walked, many of the refugees struggling against the overbearing desert heat. To her, and quite probably to many Redguards, it was simply more of the home climate they had become universally accustomed to. Lazily moving, step by step over the ill-maintained road, Zirani's mind flooded with the ramifications of all that had just occurred. Here, at last with a moment to think, her legs felt simultaneously as stiff as chitin and as infirm as what lay beneath. Forcing herself, against all natural instinct, to keep moving, she began to wonder how many had not made it out. How many perished in the attack? Where was there to even go? This whole mass was just walking to any place they could, so long as it was away. They'd walk into Oblivion itself if the portal opened up. Few of the shuffling horde seemed to be entirely in their wits, and Zirani struggled to keep herself from falling into the same trap.

At last, after what seemed an eternity of this repetitive motion, they came to a crossroads. The majority shuffled off in one direction as mindlessly as always, but Zirani paused and gave it thought. One road to nearby Anvil, the other to distant Sentinel. Anvil would obviously be too crowded given the volume of traffic. It just would, so many people all at once; the road to Sentinel, on the other hand, seemed like it just might have room for her. Plus, she was well-adapted to deserts and jungles, and so might not struggle so much for the extra distance. And so it was, her mind made up, she took the road to Sentinel.

Fresh air! Without nearly as large a mass of people, it was an incredible relief. Breathing had never been so easy, so inviting. Trudging along the path, she took a few long strides just because she could, because it felt so good to have room to do so again. Some smoke could be seen on the horizon, directly from the direction of old Rihad; Zirani felt a pit in her stomach at the second realization of the day of all that had occurred, but she kept walking. Her chipper attitude soon waned back into monotonous pacing down the road, broken only at arrival to a lonely, dilapidated village. Two larger structures were present, but she looked into neither. She was just glad to be back to anywhere after such a long day.

In no time at all, that Dunmer from Rihad came out again. Zirani looked on, perhaps bewildered, and wondering why fate might put these two together again. Apparently, as circumstances were, there was a meal and a bed offered for working against these...dunerippers. She'd seen some, certainly, but never tried to fight them. All that she really knew of the beasts was that they were impeccably swift. Why, all Elsewyr would be proud of their abilities. However, now was scarce the time for thinking of that. With a great sigh, Zirani approached the Dunmer once more:

"I will join you," she stated, "My eyes are well-attuned for the darkness, and my reflexes are swift. They shall not escape my sight, nor shall they surprise us."

[Beiarusia]

Kari Beaufort
Zanfir Inn, Hammerfell

Kari and Niriseus had been quite fortunate to escape Rihad without trouble. Sure, the city being attacked had brought with it more trouble than anyone had desired, or expected, but they were successful in slipping away with their lives and, more importantly, all their belongings — minus the coin spent on renting a room now burnt to cinder. Many were heading east towards Anvil. Kari had decided it best to head west instead, towards Sentinel, if only to avoid the crowds of refugees. They made good time, and Niriseus could have continued on, indefinitely perhaps, but the afternoon sun was taking a toll on Kari who wasn't at all accustomed to being out in the daylight for hours and hours on end. Her clothing and parasol kept her from burning (although the sting of indirect sunlight was proving troublesome) but the heat was too much. A wayward inn offered them respite.

If only it wasn't overburdened by refugees.

"My feet hurt," she complains, head down flat on the semi-cool wood of the table. She and Niriseus are sitting in a shady corner of the inn's tavern. Crowded and packed full of men, women, and children fleeing Rihad. More are outside. More will arrive in the coming hours. The innkeeper is offering them all water, and some food, which is pleasant enough, but the beds have all been claimed. They'll have to find someplace else to make camp.

Not that Kari is familiar with Hammerfell. The next town could be an hour's walk or a week's journey. Through unforgiving desert. Without shelter the sun will melt her. Literally.

"We should set out once the sun sets," says Niriseus. Practical.

"Yeah, but how far is the next town?" She rolls her head so that the other cheek is resting against the dusty table. Even her voice is exhausted. "Can we make it before sunrise? Don't think I can survive another day in the heat."

Niriseus does not have an answer. He, too, is new to Hammerfell, and without a map he can only guess on how far the next town is. A local may be able to help. It's the only option they have. He wasn't the sort to ask for directions, preferring to keep walking knowing he'd eventually arrive, but he had the wellbeing of Mistress Kari to be considerate of. Unlike him, she was soft and fleshy, and her condition made traveling in a sun-scorched barren that much more of a problem.

But an opportunity soon presented itself. Nearby, a Dunmer was speaking with an old Redguard, and Kari, with better-than-average hearing, was able to pick-up some of the words spoken between them, zeroing in on "bed" and "food". It was enough to peak her attention. A moment after and the Dunmer was making a proclamation. Lodgings for whoever rid this backwater town of some troublesome bandits. (At least she assumed a Duneripper was a bandit gang.) Kari wasn't one to enjoy honest work, but the thought of sleeping outside (and possibly igniting) was enough to force her hand.

"Let's kill some bandits," she tells Niriseus.

He cocks his head to one side. "Why? The concerns of this town are not our own."

"Yeah, but they're paying with room-and-board, and you get to kill things. It's a win-win situation."

The Argonian did not disagree, and soon enough they were pushing their way over to join the Dunmer and her growing band of thugs and oddities. An old and surprisingly sophisticated Orc, a Breton from High Rock, and a hairless Khajiit. Perhaps odd was an understatement. Of them, the Orc and Breton were likely to be useful in a fight. The Orc was, well, an Orc, and the Breton looked as if she knew her way around a blade. Maybe the Dunmer was more skilled than she appeared, but Kari knew little of the Khajiit other than trickery.

She threw up her hand to draw the attention of the Dunmer. "We volunteer."

By appearance alone Niriseus proved an imposing figure, clad in armor with sword and shield on his back, and scales blacker than the darkest of nights. In contrast, Kari was a petite Breton with only a bow. She'd make a point to limit herself lest they discover her affliction. The Imperial had been understanding; others may not be as kind.

[Torchina]

Romana Larcius
The Road outside Rihad, Hammerfell

---

Romana slumped onto the ground, acutely aware of the blood that was slowly pooling in her hand from her head wound. She'd escaped Rihad, and now found herself sitting in the sand outside of the city. Vast swathes of people moving out of the capital of the Redguard nation, heading places that only the divines knew. The sun beat down on the lithe imperial woman, but she failed to feel hot, a problem that she was all too aware of. She needed medical help if she was to make the long trek to another town or city, lest she collapse from blood loss and exhaustion. The merchant took a deep breath, and steadied herself, ignoring the crying of babes and the wailing of women. Ignoring the smoke and fire that continued to grow and rise out of Rihad, the bombardment from the shore seemingly endless in it scope and scale of destruction.

"I need a healing potion!" She exclaimed to the crowd of people passing her by, "please! I can pay, I have coin!"

Most of the refugees failed to even pay her heed as they escaped the wreckage of Rihad. A few gave her forlorn glances, or worse, ones of disgust. Who was she to request help?

"Please! I can pay, I can pay!" She yelled again.

She was unaware of what finally did it, but a passing man in the garb of a town guard seemed to take pity on her, or he foresaw the chance to gain some coin out of the whole ordeal. And for the exorbitant price of 100 septims she had a healing potion in hand. The merchant quickly drank the elixir, feeling the wound on the back of her head close up as she did so. The pain still throbbed immensely, but she wasn't dead yet. Which was more than she could say for the crew that had brought her from Skyrim. They'd been good men, and they hadn't deserved to die in such a way. Romana shivered, in spite of the heat.

The woman forced herself back onto her feet, and began to trudge her way with a crowd of people. Where she was heading, she did not know, but if she could find an inn or somewhere to rest then she could gather her thoughts.

Zanthir was hardly a town worth mentioning, but it had an inn. An inn that quickly appeared to be full and without free space, worse yet, it had only just dawned on Romana that she was without coin. It had been invested then destroyed, and then spent on a healing potion to keep her from falling into permanent blackness. It appeared that her only chance of actually finding somewhere to rest would in fact be, as fortune would have it, with the bard that she had spoken to earlier that day.

"Hello, friend," Romana hailed, forcing herself to return to her chipper nature despite the constant throb of pain in the back of her skull, "I dare say that you may have the only chance to get us all a place to rest and some grub to eat. I don't really intend on spending the night on the sand so I'll assist you if you'll have me."

The imperial laughed with a fake joyousness, her mind constantly wandering back to all she had lost in the span of a few hours.

[The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness]

Arvesa Vess
Zanfir, Hammerfell

---

Well, things were certainly going well, that was certain - at least considering the entire situation she found herself in, right now. Arvesa herself had never fought any Dune Rippers, and while she certainly could've snuck her way out of town before anyone would've noticed, she'd prefer to actually fulfill the promise she'd made. The people that were showing up clearly turned out to be perfectly suited for the job! First there was the Orc, whom looked faintly familiar, and if there was anything she knew of Orcs (other than their rather dubious history) it was that they were very good at smashing things. Evidently, this one was no different. Even better, he had apparently fought the beasts in the past! Victory was practically assured, already.

Before she could actually respond, however, another figure showed up, this time a tough-looking Breton woman, who certainly looked like she'd had some experience with fighting. "Ah, wonderful!" She responded to the woman. "I've little experience with facing them in combat, myself, but our Orsimer friend over here apparently has more than enough for us all together! This will do just nicely, I am certai-" More and more people seemed to show up, however, this time the fur-less Khajiit that she had seen in Rihad, before, she, too, insisting she join the rapidly forming group on their adventure. "Well, avoiding ambushes sounds like the most marvelous thing indeed. I'm sure you'll be more than-" Arvesa's attention was diverted once again, this time by another Breton woman who was throwing her hand up in the air, seeking to get her attention. She, too, volunteered, together with a big, armor-clad Argonian brute. As long as his brutality was directed at the dunerippers, this would be very fine indeed.

It was then that yet another familiar-ish face from Rihad turned up - it wasn't unexpected that more people had come here from Rihad's docks, but this was practically turning into some sort of reunion already! The Imperial seemed to be about as cheerful as she had been before everything that transpired between then and now, surprisingly enough - especially considering the complete lack of anyone that seemed to be related to her businesses around - but Arvesa decided to respond in a similar fashion as she put the notice she'd taken off of the board away. The only thing she'd lost, in the end, was an exciting time in Rihad, so there wasn't too much reason for her to be grouchy, regardless. "But of course!" She hummed, glancing around. "Well, even if I am not a merchant, I do pride myself on only offering the finest of wares and deals, hm? Well then, people, if you would follow me!"

Humming, well satisfied with her newly assembled band of adventurers that could undoubtedly get rid of those dunerippers without any trouble at all, Arvesa began to lead the way throughout Zanfir. Not that there was much in the way to lead, of course, but that was of little concern, the Dunmer simply making her way over towards the other large, sandstone building that didn't happen to host the local tavern, knocking on the poor and waiting for it to be opened, hands folded behind her back. After a brief moment, the door opened, and everyone was led inside.

"These people will all be aiding you in getting rid of those dunerippers then?" The Redguard Magister asked as he led his new guests towards a large hall with suitably large dining table at its center. Arvesa nodded. "Indeed, Magister at-Salan. ...you can accommodate for them all, I hope?" He nodded at that. "Indeed, indeed! My servant will show you all there once you are done with your meal. Do help yourselves - I must see to important matters, as I am sure you can understand..." The man gestured at the table with a hand, decorated with a wide scale of the local cuisine, only recently prepared, judging by the smell and, upon closer inspection, warmth coming off of the stuff.

Arvesa didn't need to be told twice, and she quickly sat down in one of the many chairs surrounding the table, helping herself to some food and a drink. She let out a sigh as she sank into the chair, only now, perhaps, realizing just how exhausted she had been from the entire ordeal. Shaking her head, she pulled out a small notebook from her backpack, and as she ate, she began writing in silence, quickly jotting down some details she really had to remember for when she would finally write about her adventures in Hammerfell. Eventually, however, she finished her meal and drink, closed her notebook, tucked it away, and slowly got up and out of her chair. "If you'll excuse me, I'll go and find some rest. I will see you all in the morning!" Her excuse was quick and rather prompt, but the Dunmer mustered a polite bow before grabbing her backpack and venturing back into the hallway, seeking out that servant the Magister had mentioned.

The servant, an aging Redguard man, older than the Magister himself, was easily found, and he quickly led Arvesa up the stairs and towards the room that would make their quarters for the night. Three beds donned the room, as well as a table with some chairs, with several bedrolls ready for use to make up for the lack of bedding for everyone. The Dunmer, of course, quickly helped herself to what she thought to see was the cleanest of the three beds, dropping her backpack by it, getting rid of some of her gear - although keeping her blade close - before tucking herself in, praying she could get enough rest before she would have to face off against those mysterious dunerippers in the morning...

[Zanera]

Abadol gro-Malok
The Strange Sandstone House

---

Not that he doubted Redguard hospitality, having spent half his life with the many human denizens of Hammerfell, but Abadol waited a few minutes after the first bites to start eating his own food. The Redguards had a penchant for cheesy foods which made him a little gassy when he ate a lot of it. Too bad for the fellow surrounding him, he was starving and there were dishes with goat cheese available. He ate slowly but he also ate steadily. Seeing as how everyone involved was eating together, and probably even sleeping in a room together, it might be best to get to know who he was supposed to trust so much as to sleep in the same room with.

"I am Abadol gro-Malok. I hail from the Dragontail Mountains as an iron-orc. So dunerippers, they uh, they like to burrow and then jump out at you, so be careful there. They have big, thick scales on top so you have to get their bellies. That can be difficult because dunerippers can get big enough to kill a camel. We seem to have enough people so I'm confident, but I'll need to warm up my joints, myself."

[Beiarusia]

Kari Beaufort
Zanfir, Hammerfell

They don't linger for long inside the overcrowded tavern. The Dunmer, Aversa Vess, leads them to the only other sandstone building of respectable size where they are greeted by the town magister and, more importantly, a veritable feast with promise of clean bedding for the night. Kari has no issue in taking advantage of the old man's hospitality and greedily eats her fill. She doesn't know a thing about the local cuisine but it's delicious all the same. The meat especially is sweet and succulent, more-so with the added grace of melting cheese. Niriseus, too, eats until full, but unlike the Breton is almost civilized in his stoic tableside etiquette.

The Dunmer excuses herself, but the Orc was undoubtedly inspired to introduce himself since proper introductions had yet to be made. "I am Abadol gro-Malok," he says, his articulation that of a learned man. He then details the need-to-know of Dunerippers, which, to Kari's surprise, were a beast and not a poorly named bandit gang.

"So these things are... big lizards?" she asks in-between mouthfuls.

"You did not know?" Niriseus says as if this was common knowledge.

"No. You?"

"Yes."

She pouts, feeling a bit the fool, but it passes quickly enough. "Me name's Kari Beaufort, from Shornhelm up in High Rock," she says, using her pseudonym as opposed to her familial surname of Montclair. Being indoors, she's gone and made herself comfortable by stripping free of her traveling cloak. "Me companion is Niriseus from Black Marsh."

The Argonian simply nods.

Kari continues. "When's the best time to hunt lizards? Nighttime? New to Hammerfell and the sun isn't agreeing with me."

[Zanera]

Kari Beaufort
Zanfir, Hammerfell

They don't linger for long inside the overcrowded tavern. The Dunmer, Aversa Vess, leads them to the only other sandstone building of respectable size where they are greeted by the town magister and, more importantly, a veritable feast with promise of clean bedding for the night. Kari has no issue in taking advantage of the old man's hospitality and greedily eats her fill. She doesn't know a thing about the local cuisine but it's delicious all the same. The meat especially is sweet and succulent, more-so with the added grace of melting cheese. Niriseus, too, eats until full, but unlike the Breton is almost civilized in his stoic tableside etiquette.

The Dunmer excuses herself, but the Orc was undoubtedly inspired to introduce himself since proper introductions had yet to be made. "I am Abadol gro-Malok," he says, his articulation that of a learned man. He then details the need-to-know of Dunerippers, which, to Kari's surprise, were a beast and not a poorly named bandit gang.

"So these things are... big lizards?" she asks in-between mouthfuls.

"You did not know?" Niriseus says as if this was common knowledge.

"No. You?"

"Yes."

She pouts, feeling a bit the fool, but it passes quickly enough. "Me name's Kari Beaufort, from Shornhelm up in High Rock," she says, using her pseudonym as opposed to her familial surname of Montclair. Being indoors, she's gone and made herself comfortable by stripping free of her traveling cloak. "Me companion is Niriseus from Black Marsh."

The Argonian simply nods.

Kari continues. "When's the best time to hunt lizards? Nighttime? New to Hammerfell and the sun isn't agreeing with me."

"Well, hello Kari and Niriseus. Almost odd for an Argonian to be so far from home, but Hammerfell isn't that bad. Anyway, with the dunerippers it'll probably be first thing in the morning when they're sunning themselves after a cold night in the desert is when the best time to nab them is. You might catch them by surprise if one is quiet and they're especially lazing. If the sun is biting you a little too hard, one could try to dress like the locals. There's got to be something to their garb."

[Torchina]

Romana Larcius
Zanfir, Hammerfell

---

Romana laughed with fake joy as she sat down at the table, making a few rather poor attempts at jokes before she settled into the food. It was quite good, all truth be told, far better than she'd expected. But in actual fact, that could have merely been the exhaustion and hunger from the ordeals that she had suffered clouding her judgement and her infamously picky taste buds. No matter, the imperial merchant ate as quickly as she possibly could whilst maintaining decorum. Once she was happily satisfied with the dish of meat and cheese she politely excused herself from the table making vague mutterings about ensuring that she knew where she was sleeping before she turned in for the night.

There were only three beds, one of which the dunmer bard had taken. Quick to ensure that she could also gain a bed and not be relegated to sleeping on the floor, something that would no doubt do nothing but damage to both her back and her mood. The imperial sat down on the bed, vaguely aware that she had no luggage to actually stow away. She let out a sad little chuckle, before catching herself, and muttering a curse to Mara under her breath.

Romana shrugged her leather armour off unceremoniously before turning into the bed, still in her travelling clothes. With her head firmly pushed into the bed roll, where she could comfortably think that she was safe from prying eyes, the imperial let out a few quiet sobs before the exhaustion finally over took her and she fell into an uneasy sleep.

[The Ik Ka Ek Akai]

Watching. Eyes, darting hither and thither, the trip to the mansion was far from comfortable. As she walked, step by step, she felt it more and more. They were watching her with scornful glares, hate-filled stares, and she was, perhaps, a little scared. Nobody trusted the Khajiit. Nobody. Other Khajiit, even, sometimes did not trust the Khajiit. Zirani had played every angle she could, played every person she could, and she wondered if they could see that rot in her very soul as she walked by. Had she grown to what the knew? What they all see when they look at Khajiit? Just for control - a desperate clawing at anything to take back her own life, to defy them and keep living, laughing, to go on.

When she was a child, was anyone there? Did they know? Did they care? The world was empty in those days, a universe of possibility and every opportunity a gleaming diamond, but each door locked and in time she came to be as she is now. It was they who had locked her out, who had put her on this path. With each glare, she no longer felt to shrink down and hide, but instead a rage. A defiance. People turned their heads to look away, and she wanted to pounce. What right had they to judge? To posture, to nudge? What justice lie in this, that she aid their village for a night's rest, that she be scorned for doing her best? And the rest? Craven fools, not asking but demanding to fix their problems that they wish not to do themselves.

Why should she help them? No, this was her own deal. She cannot linger and beg, live destitute, nay; Zirani wanted to reclaim her own destiny from their prying hands. These dunerippers would be gone, but she would bleed them for it.

As they finally entered the mansion, they were guided to the feasting hall. Zirani claimed her place, and sat. Degloving, she let her claws loose and ate what she could. Fine drink, fine food, the lot. Built-in utensils? Also fine. It was only after a few more moments that she realized the others had begun talking amongst themselves, little idle chatter, a few introductions. Before she could speak, they had moved on to a new topic. Was that just? She was a side item to them, it seemed! She decided to speak up, to force them to notice her.

"It is dry heat. Much easier to manage than wet heat. Elsewyr's south is very wet, no clothing helps stop that. Robes and exposed skin, these both help dry heat - one shades, the other breathes." She paused briefly, "Ja'zirani-daro, at your service." With this, she simply returned to her little feast. She was done in only a matter of minutes, wiped her hands a bit on any given cloth accompaniments such as a tablecloth, licked a little bit to clean up, and once they were satisfactory she regloved and sat idly by. On her plate was left a mess of half-finished foods, none particularly reclaimable but none devoured in their entirety. This was a subtle victory, at least.