The Elder Scrolls: Latent Power

Riddle78

Riddle78

Four Thousand Club
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Uruk gro-Mal,male Orsimer born to the Lord,54 years of age. Played by Ulfar the Meadbane


Yann Deniel,male Breton born under the Tower,24 years of age. Played by heartsteal22


Ragar urg-Nolb,female Orsimer born under the Steed,28 years of age. Played by Afro_Nation


Durant,male Breton born under the Lover,33 years of age. Played by Atreyu


Karliah Sarothren,female Dunmer born under the Ritual,92 years of age. Played by TheFallOfitAll


Lanus Ilod,male Altmer born under the Mage,210 years of age. Played by ninbinz


Sigmundr Grimmson,male Nord born under the Steed,19 years of age. Played by Dominus noctus


Raffaj,male Imperial born under the Shadow,27 years of age. Played by Sheogorath


Do'Ja'K,male Khajiit born under the Steed,26 years of age. Played by Flabbysaurus


Vashanar,male Khajiit born under the Steed,35 years of age. Played by Phoenix Wright


Siroco Nevont,male Redguard born under the Steed,32 years of age. Played by Kaine


The boat reached port in Ebonheart,unloading it's motley crew of passengers. Many were Dunmer and Imperial,going to the Imperial center of the province of Morrowind on business. However,a handful were remarkably different. They were on business,but unlike everyone else in the fortified castle-city,they didn't know exactly who was their employer.


The castle-city was fairly average for a Third-Era Imperial fortification. Lots of stone,fairly square structure,high walls all round,with strategically placed towers. The Imperial Legion patrolled the walls and streets as guards. There was a light rain coming down,and the great city of Vivec was visible to the east,it's cantons easily breaking the horizon. One would even be able to swim there if they were fit,had nothing to carry,and were mad enough to brave the Slaughterfish and Dreugh.


The sky was aglow to the west,with the east darkening. It was evening on Vvardenfell,and,if it weren't for the clouds sprinkling rain on the land below,the night sky would've been magnificent.


On the pier,there was a woman. She had golden skin,and wore golden armour. She was so tall,she made Altmer look like Bosmer. She scanned the crowds with eyes of gold,and spotted the motley crew. Feeling confident,the woman approached the crowd,and stated, "Travellers! I'm in service to a person who has distributed letters to the far corners of Tamriel. Do you happen to bear these letters?" Her voice had an unnatural quality to it. It echoed when it shouldn't,almost as if she were underwater.
 
Uruk was the first to disembark from the vessel, shouldering what gear he had as he made his way down the docking ramp. Primal eyes scanned all along the coastline as he trudged down the pier, the soft pitter-patter of rain dinging against the iron breastplate that he wore. He had been lost in thought for the last quarter of the journey, and now was no different, so it appeared that he was mildly startled when the woman's voice addressed him and pulled him from his head. There was mention of an employer, and a letter, and he instantly put two and two together.


The orc pulled the formerly-sealed letter from his rucksack and held it up as proof that he indeed belonged on this vessel, that he belonged here in Vvardenfell, a beast in 'civilization.' He let out a derisive snort and he added words to his actions. "I do. You here t'guide us to this 'employer' or are you just gonna' stand there and flap your mouth, Elf?" It was obvious that he devoted no time to pleasant manners, preferring to get down to brass tacks. From what the woman had mentioned, there were others, and he would stuff his letter back into the sack and turn on his heel to observe the others as they filtered off the ship sleepily.


An annoyed growl sounded from his tusks as he decided to set his hulking frame on some cargo that had been left out on the haphazard pier. It was likely they weren't going anywhere until everyone that was coming showed their mugs and presented their mark.
 
Lanus ambled across the gangplank, he took a deep breath of Vvardenfell air: it had a salty tang and an earthy musk. Despite its visual first impressions it seemed Vvardenfell was only like Tamriel in image. The wood beneath his feat wobbled a moment as a strong gust of wind tried to pull him into the water, the Altmer shrugged his pack on and checked that everything was in its place, he did not want to have to turn back and rummage through the entire vessel that had conveyed him thus far.


On his journey he had noticed several adroit fingers and vowed to do his best to keep his things from being stolen. Finding that everything was in order he ambled onwards. While he walked he noticed the crenelated walls and buildings, Ebonheart was apparently meant as a fortress. Unlike most mages Lanus was not a typical mage who enjoyed to pursue mysteries via scholarly methods but instead preferred to bumble right into the midst of a debilitating curse or unleash a dark power that had been previously sealed away for the good of Nirn.


His boot hit the dock and he meandered his way through small delegation of arguing sailors to find want he surmised was a Chimer, though he doubted his theory since the ancient race had long since been converted into Dunmer. He was near enough to hear the strange woman's statement and calmly searched a pocket until he found and produced a neatly folded yet somewhat creased letter. Satisfied the woman had identified he moved to the right side of the Orc and stood some steps away.


He reached into his pocket once more and produced a strand of lemon grass and began to chew the sour yet sweet weed while waiting for the others to present themselves.
 
Do'Ja'K walked onto the pier as fast as he could he wanted to get inside quickly, he hated the rain, the weather was nothing like Elsweyr but he could say the same for skyrim, but he didn't care he would rather be cold, damp and wet rather than guarding his skooma addicted family. Once the elf had explained that she worked for the person who sent him the letter he realised why there had been quite a diverse group of people on the boat.


"Do'Ja'K has his letter right here, but can we hurry this up Do'Ja'k hates the rain" Do'Ja'K handed the elf the letter and stood at the end of the pier impatiently tapping his foot while he waited for the others to hand their letters. As he did he made sure his war hammer was secured to his back and checked his pockets and made sure he still had his leftover drakes, there were a couple of shady looking thieves on that boat and he wouldn't be surprised if they had stolen a thing or two before they even got off the boat.
 
Yann decided to play a little game with the khajiit, seeing as they were so famous for their light step and excellent hearing, he thought this Do'Ja'K the perfect target for his little prank. Shadowing the cat, obviously cautious to avoid being touched by the sweeping of his feline tail, Yann imitated the hammer-wielder's movements with startling precision, padded shoes touching so lightly to the pier that he seemed more to glide than stride.


In all good fun, Yann lost his composure by the time Do'Ja'K spoke, voicing his distaste for the rain, and allowed himself a little snort of laughter, producing his letter as he took a deep bow to their newest golden friend. Amidst his bow, the breton snatched away the coinpurse at her hip.


"I am known as Yann my dear, and it's a pleasure to meet you miss?" he spoke eloquently, and expectantly, giving pause to allow her own introduction. Already Yann could imagine the reactions from the others, laughter, disgust, it didn't change much in his mind, but he couldn't stand to be tied to such a somber bunch, he hoped for at least some amusement.


Despite his recent imprisonment, Yann showed no signs of it, nor of his travel, hard-pressed to reach the port in time, just the beginning of what he hoped to be a great adventure. Despite the dark hour, the rain had a midsummer-afternoon quality to it, the sort of drizzle that felt like it was about to let up at any moment, but never quite go away. A quick lick of Yann's lips came away tasting salty, though the shit-eating-grin still spread across his face as he straightened up, holding forth their greeter's coin, just as she began to reply.
 
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Being the next to leave the vessel, looking back to her fallen friends who slept half the journey. She expected him to be awake, so they can talk about useless things that would only be forgotten months later. She shrugged as she let out a huff. Grabbing her axe that leaned up against the corner of the ships wall. Swinging it up and over so it could rest on her wide shoulders. Her steps were loud, the armor of her shoes giving off a thud clank sound as she walked off and stopped to look about the area. She had put her free hand on her hip and gave out another huff sound. Groaning to all the people that where here. She turned her head to the right looking around for anything that may explain the letter. Reaching into her sack that hung off of her armor skirt. Pulling out and reading it once more before hearing a loud voice that spoke of the letters.


Her head shot up form the paper to look around for the voice. When she spotted the informer she gave a half smile and a nod of the head before picking up her feet again and walking with a purpose. Her shoulders going back and forth as the axe on her shoulder did the same. Some avoided walking by her. None wanted to be hit, stabbed or killed by her weapon. Others looked at her size and the muscle she had. Most female orcs where like this, so when she saw another she did a slight head nod. Making her way over then stopping. She held up the paper as she nodded her head for conformation. "You are the informer yes...this letter , involves you correct." She had already crumpled it back up in to a ball and laced it in the sack again. Someone of her size and, well she stood out. She had to be the informer. Ragar looked back up , letting out a huff as she looked over the informer. "I like your armor."


She nodded again before finding 2 cargo boxes stacked upon one another. Swinging her axe back down toward her feet. She moved her shoulder around ,her bones cracking from the pressure of the axe when it was resting upon them. Switching hands, she moved the axe from her right hand to her left. Placing it up against the cargo, tire of holding it. She stepped back a little , to give others who had to go between them some room. Her arms crossed as she looked around . Must be waiting for she thought. no matter , she was away from home and that was all she cared about.
 
The only Dunmer on the boat not native to the land stepped off without a sound. Her footsteps soundless, and was her voice at the moment. Everything about her screamed mystery. The fact that the robes covered almost every inch of the young Dunmer's body. Karliah hadn't met any of the others on the boat as she didn't wish to.


As she walked to the elf, she heard the male orc's comments about, "elf" she wanted to burn him, but she didn't. She walked forward, soundless as ever, and watched. She didn't speak, she had no reason to. She'd wait until someone decided to speak to her.


She took notice of her possible allies, or, people who may later back stab her. Two orcs, a khajit, an altmer, maybe a breton. That breton, Yann, his name, seemed the one to watch out for. Karliah would most certainly watch these people, make sure they don't do anything without her being able to react.
 
Vashanar stepped out of the boat with a little glare on everyone. Vashanar was cautious. He never trusted others rather than himself, Maybe he might trust a fellow Khajiit, But it's only a big maybe. Everyone from where he came from always made fun of him for who, or 'What' he is. Since then, He never trusted anyone. He realized that he was not the only one in this voyage. They were probably from different places just like him. He first looked at the fellow Khajiit, Then the Orc, And then the rest.


He inhaled the foreign scent of Vvardenfall. He surely came a long way from his home. He barely made a long distance travel, Only from times when he made a deal from different "rich" Nords or Breton on different towns and villages. He had to hike, Or hitchhike a ride to get there. Sometimes, Some Nords were kind enough to lend him a ride on their carts towards the village or town. But still, He never even gave an ounce of trust towards them.


Vashanar then looked at the golden lady. He could feel his eye slowly melting from her shininess. The moment she said those words, Vashanar remembered that he was here for a reason, A letter. It was a bit cold because of the rain, But it was nothing his warm black and brown fur couldn't handle. He then crossed his arms as he laid his tail flat behind him to avoid it being stepped on. He always does this when around a group of people, Sometimes, Someone steps on it, and sometimes, People complain that his tail would wag everywhere and it would get annoying.


" I've got this letter you speak of, My name is Vashanar " He said with a short introduction of who he is. He then grabbed his sack of things he needed, with a little gold in his gold pouch, His weapons, A iron sword sheathed on it scabbard. And a Steel dagger hidden on his back side while being sheathed on it's scabbard as well. And also, a long bow and a couple of iron arrows on him. He then swung the sack on his right shoulder, carrying it, And waited.
 
"That's two." Gathering his things, at the announcement of departure. Next to leave, and bittersweet of it.


He seemed to have made friends, two of the deckhands, and thrown a lot of gambling with them-of course he dropped this, not after winning another round. Toting a small sack over his shoulder, and wincing at the grimacing expressions at his back.


Surely if he stayed, he would likely end with a cut throat. Guessed, at least.


Approaching the back of the group, he was surprised. He'd never seen this much of the empire all at once, racially spoke. Marveled at the size of the orcs, of which he had not seen except for once, and that was in route to Cyrodil.


Sigmund wasn't used to this, and didn't seem keen on acting like it, but pleasantries were in order if he was to continue in good company. In a frankly blundering maneuver, he retrieved the letter-something grim to look at in its current condition-calling from the back.


"I've got it. The letter." Frowning internally at the rather un-complex artistry of his vocabulary, to the least, in the wake of the others in the group. All to his name, his sword, was kept slung with his other belongings, the leatherwork strapping across his damp linen.
 
These guys were idiots. Not in a sence that they were literally stupid but in the way they addressed themselves. What if the letters were for a hit. Someone seeking revenge. They could have been caught off guard and three or four of them picked off before releasing it was a trap.


Sadly this was always his thinking. In his line of business, people didn’t even need to know you to want you dead. You simply needed to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, searching for the wrong item or looking for the wrong corpse. People had secrets to hide and bounty hunting often brought secrets to light.


He glanced around and honestly, all seemed well. Though from her echo the armor could of been enchanted. The Red Guard couldn’t spot a face from the back of the crowd. This bounty may pay off more than he originally thought. But as always, his bow was over shoulder, with arrows in quiver and swords in sheath between said quiver and back. Never hurt to be cautious.


He continued to watch the crowd as one by one they replied, stating they had letters just like his.
 
Durant steps out from below deck with a slightly drunken demeanor. He throws his arms up into a long stretch, mead in hand. Whilst listening to the golden-clad, giant of a woman and her various onlookers, he quickly drains the bottle. With a final gulp, he throws the emptied bottle to the side with his dominant left hand. He walks over the gangplank, pausing midway for a quick look back at the sea.


'Farewell, sweet love', Durant thinks to himself, turning back to the chiseled castle-town. Stepping forward through the onlookers, he pulls back his hood, revealing his icy blue eyes. "Alright lady, where is this employer of yours? What is this all about?" Folding his arms, the raven-haired breton awaits a reply, peering around at the other letter-holders.
 
From the shadows of the ship that the passengers had just recently disembarked from, a figure pulled itself away from the darkness, almost as if peeling himself off from the black oubliette of the shadows. Raffaj, Imperial, born under the sign of the Shadow stretched himself and yawned. That was a long trip, and a free one at that. Didn’t even need to pay a cent. Heh. He adjusted his scarf and threw the tails of the brown cloth over his shoulder as he vaulted over the side of the boat and onto the pier. Slinging his sack over his shoulder, he found that his travelling companions had all already gathered in front of the docks. A woman stood tall and proud in front of them, her skin golden and glistening in the sun, her armor gold as well, and her eyes…gold. She had the qualities of an item that Raffaj would purloin in the depths of the night. She was no different: tall, elegant and strong. Raffaj pushed his hair back and pulled out the letter from his tunic, smoothing it over with his hand and displayed it to the lady. As soon as he expected her to have fully verified the letter, Raffaj pulled it away and took hold of her hand. He bowed slightly and kissed the back of the lady’s hand, though his lips were obstructed by the fabric of his scarf, before straightening up. With that show, he shifted his sack on his back, adjusting it to a comfortable position, and slid his other hand into his pocket, awaiting further instructions, all the while giving a coy smile to the lady.
 
The woman saw the people display their letters. Well,some of them,at any rate. They glowed to her eyes,her benefactor's enchantment still working. The ones that kept their letters hidden glowed like a bonfire at sea. She made a mental note, Eleven. One didn't make it. Then one of the men opened his mouth,an Orsimer,calling her an elf,heedless of her position among them. She sneered at the man,and said, "I'm an Aureal,Pariah Elf. One of the chosen of the Madgod." The Golden Saint ignored the cat that spoke of disliking the rain,and glared daggers at the Breton,Yann,that stole the decoy coinpurse that her benefactor insisted she carry.


"I should break your hands,Yann,but our benefactor requests you functional. Keep it. It's only filled with stone chips." Just as she was about to turn to lead them to the Six Fishes,an Imperial pretending to be a Redguard actually kissed her hand. Less than a second after his lips touched her hand,the Golden Saint's hand clenched into a fist,and rocketed across the man's face,striking with the back of her hand. The man was sent spinning,and his face would undoubtedly be sore,but there was no real damage done. "Hands to yourself,worm." With that,the Aureal turned on her heel,and began marching off,gesturing for the party to follow. "Keep an eye on your minions,ladies."


The Daedra led the party to the Six Fishes inn and tavern. The square building was stone and thatch,with a heavy,steel-reinforced oaken door. Leading the group inside,the Golden Saint approached the busy bar,where the publican pulled a scroll from under the counter,and handed it to her with his free hand,serving an Imperial Legionnaire with the other.


Taking the scroll from the publican,the Aureal led the party do a door in the back of the main room,to the cellar. "Keep your hands to yourself until our benefactor says otherwise. Or you'll risk my punishment." The Daedra looked at the assembled party before opening the door,and ushering the party downstairs. Closing the door behind her,she made her way into the cellar proper,swatting Yann on her way past with the scroll,as he was leaning in on the armoured cat. She stood before the party,unfurling the scroll. "Everyone,touch the scroll." When everyone did as they were told,the Golden Saint began reciting the Daedric incantation on the sheet.


They were consumed by a brilliant amethyst light,and when everyone's vision cleared,they were somewhere altogether different. The scroll was gone,and the party was assembled on a sizable flat stone island,floating in an infinite void. A low ringing hum could be heard at all times,and in the distance,on another island,stood two figures.


One figure was a Redguard,dressed in gold-trimmed crimson finery,poring over a grand,thick tome. Beside him was an ornate black and gold spear with a shortsword sized blade. The blade had a narrow slit running from the haft,to a third of the way down. Behind him was a man wearing black and red plate,with a similar claymore. He wore no helmet,revealing solid,blood red eyes in sockets on a face made of black flesh,his long hair drawn back into a topknot,with horns exploding from his brow,curling up and back.


The Dremora approached the Redguard,seemingly unnoticed,his footfalls making little more noise than a cat's whisper. He wound his arms back,preparing a horizontal slash. The Golden Saint merely smirked,and muttered, "Men..." The Dremora loosed his savage slash,aiming for the neck. As if he knew what was happening,the Redguard ducked under the blade,spear somehow already in hand. Keeping a high grip on the weapon,the Redguard wheeled around,just as the Dremora shifted his weight to his rear leg to retreat.


The spear's blade slashed across the Dremora's shin,as if the armour wasn't even there. The Dremora pivoted on his rear leg,turning half a rotation,away from the Redguard,then pivoted on his injured leg to put more distance between the two. The Redguard was already on his feet again,with a proper grip on his weapon. The Dremora lunged forward without missing a beat after his rotation. The Redguard gave a single barking laugh,and stepped forward and to the side,bringing his spear's blade between the two fighters.


The Dremora's sword plunged through the gap in the Redguard's spearblade. With a grunt,the Redguard twisted the spear in his grip while booting the armoured Daedra in the chest,and brought his spear over his own head in a grand arc,tearing the massive sword from his opponent's hands. Continuing the motion,the Redguard brought the spear back across,striking the Dremora in the throat with the spear's haft,throwing the Daedra off balance,and interrupting his breath.


The spear deflected upwards,and that suited the Redguard just fine,as the Dremora was now doubled over,trying to find his breath. Sliding his upper hand to meet his lower hand,the Redguard brought the spear down like a headsman's axe,the blade scything through the Dremora's spine and throat,severing the head from the body. The head rolled off the island and into the infinite abyss below,and the corpse slumped forward lamely onto the abdomen.


The Redguard tucked the spear's haft under his arm,bringing the blade close,and magickally pulled a rag to his hand from the table,and began wiping the blade. When the blade was clean,he put the spear back in it's place,leaning against his table,and he finally turned to address his new employees.


"Aah,I see Staada's brought you here. Welcome." He gestured to the space around them,and walked towards them. As he approached the edge of his island,stones rocketed from the abyss to form steps. "You may call me Silas,and I'm the one that wrote and had those letters delivered to you." He stopped seven feet away from the party's island. "Knowledge is my tool. And this knowledge has revealed to me the location of an object of great importance. One that can shake Tamriel to it's bones." He smiled warmly as he done a quick headcount,arm bobbing as he did so. "Only eleven? One must've refused." He shrugged. "No matter,eleven should suffice."


He gestured to the party,and said, "My offer is this: Two thousand drakes a head,up front. You get to keep and do as you will with anything you happen to find on the job,except for the objective. Upon completion of the job,you receive eight thousand Septims." He looked at his employees,and added, "If this isn't to your liking,I'm afraid it's non negotiable. However,should you refuse,I'll send you back to wherever you came from." He laced his fingers together,and lined up his forefingers and thumbs.and held them just under his chest.


"Sound fair?"
 
She was an Auriel!! Lanus was baffled as to her reason for gathering them all here in Ebonheart, her origins however intrigued him and he was doubly interested in following this through, no matter the danger. The worst case was that he would be turned into some unsightly creature by the Madgod or adversely turned into a type of food. You could never predict what a Daedric Prince would do let alone predict anything the Daedric Prince of Madness would do next.


Lanus followed the gold adorned Daedra, they walked through the streets of Ebonheart and already he could see the effects of events in Cyrodiil here in Vvardenfell, it seems that there were refugees milling about the streets, some of them looked better off then others but all bore the expression one dons when they've lost their will to live on or are crumbling beneath the stress.


Immediately he caught on to the various ramshackle stalls littering the street and the street and he could see opportunity, all he needed was a savvy business partner and he could take over Ebonheart by storm. Plans ran through his mind, first things first he would have to obtain a map of Vvardfell and find a traveling trader to map out the safest routes around the province.


Lanus was rubbing his hands together eagerly by the time they reached the inn but his mind was elsewhere, he barely managed to keep up with the group and pay attention to their mysterious guide. He'd have to get into contact with whatever conclave of mages was currently more dominant in the region, if worse came to worse he'd have to ask the locals for any tips.


Lanus snapped from his reverie when he noticed a peculiar scroll being handed to the Aureal by an otherwise lackadaisical Innkeeper who took their presence in unusual calmness. Lanus looked to the patrons drowning their sorrows in ale, mead or wine but they stared with the appropriate amount of confusion and suspicion that was to be expected when looking at a motley group such as theirs. He looked back at the inn keeper and squinted suspiciously but he left it alone as the group had begun descending into the basement.


The dank room was dark, the air was moist, were it not for the shuffling of equipment and feet Lanus had no doubt he'd hear the hollow sound of silence contradictory though that may be. The resident of The Shivering Isles unrolled the scroll and recited the incantation it held, her hollow voice echoing unnaturally. In a moment his sight was blurred by violet light, h remained calm it was merely transportation spell, that much he could discern from the magics released.


When the light cleared the Altmer was treated to a spectacular impossibility, they stood on an island in the middle of an abyss, such a feet would require some expertise in both magic and lore alike. Before them stood a rather studious Redguard, beside him an impressive looking spear and behind him a creeping Daedra. The Redguard continued his study despite the ever nearing Dremora and the Pariah Elf simply responded with a snarky comment.


The Following battle was quick and brutal, the Redguard warrior stood victorious and broached to them his offer. So far Lanus was inclined accept it, the mystery of it all was too much to resist and he had to dig up the secrets. But for the moment his attention was drawn to the Dremora's body.


"Before we move forward any further, I would like to make a request and please forgive the intrusion, I was warned. It is at this particular moment inconsequential but I cannot see I will have the time make the request later: May I have that Dremora's Heart?"
 
The grin on Yann's face went nowhere as he straightened up, turning the bag over into his other palm, watching drakes spill out with a gentle tinkling.


"Are you sure about that?" the breton asked, having actually cleverly swapped out a coinpurse of his own, keeping a close eye on the aureal's reaction. Most people, by that he of course meant all people, gave away if, and where they were keeping any other valuables at this point, whether they realized it or not. Of course, not many people had the talent to spot it either. Though she stiffened at the sight, she gave no hint at anything beyond her armour being of value.


"You're not much fun, you know that?" Yann asked of the tall golden lady humourously, gently tucking the coins in his palm into his own coinpurse, expertly slipping the sack of stone chips into the silent, scarfed man's sack. That should make for a good chuckle later, though on second thought, maybe he should have taken the man's real purse whilst he was at it, that would have been better.


Entering the inn, the smell became immediately apparent, unwashed flesh, booze, and belch blasted the breton, and no doubt many of the others as well, probably worst of the bunch would be the khajiit.


Retrieving a scroll from the man behind the bar, their personal greeter lead them to the cellar, an odd place for a meeting to be sure, perhaps they were to have a wine tasting? That would be pleasantly unconventional, though it would certainly start things off on a bad foot. Leaning in to the rain-hater, Yann was about to whisper his thoughts on the matter, hoping they had cheese at least, and was promptly struck in the back of the head with a roll of parchment.


Once again, before Yann could say anything, their welcome wagon lead everyone to touch the scroll, and began chanting. Once everyone had finally gathered what was going on, everything was engulfed in a vibrant purple light, which slowly calmed to reveal the motley crew standing on a little sliver of dirt in the midst of a vast abyss. Across from them sat a studious redguard, practically a joke himself, spear resting beside him, clad in fine cloth.


Behind that of course, crept up a daedra, because today obviously wasn't interesting enough yet, and after a brief struggle, the redguard stood victorious.


"So I'd assume this would be our benefactor?" Yann asked, voicing what was obviously on everyone's minds.


Cleaning his blade, the man seemed not to notice the bunch immediately, though he shouted a greeting across to them, a touch of a grin touching his features as he revealed their greeter's name, Staada. Walking across the abyss, stones rose from the bottomless pit to meet this, Silas' feet, talking as he approached. Obviously this man thought his cause was of great importance, though most serious folk did, didn't they?


Abruptly, the beautified redguard made a normal statement, as though he were no longer talking about the end of days, regarding the number of attendants he'd acquired. A handsome payment was promised though with how much they were to get in the end, Yann could already feel the knife hovering over his back, though that could have just as easily been Staada glaring at him from behind, trying to confirm he hadn't stolen anything from the group yet, and actually, he hadn't! Something would need to be done to remedy that.


"Well, it all sounds well and good, though what you've hired me for, I've no clue, with all of these weapons, it looks more like you look to start a war than simply acquire a shiny bauble."
 
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[Crappy post is crap =\ ]


The runaround group of thugs, or so as they appeared to Siroco, would make for an interesting bounty. The Red Guard never did anything for any other reason than to live. No family, No loved one, No friends. He simply did what he must to survive and to enjoy the life he had as most lives were short in his field.


He watched casually as they followed orders and were transported to a new realm. This alone already paid for itself. How often did one get to travel to a Daedric realm? Siroco knew better than most that the items Silas offered on their quest would probably be more than enough in payment as well. That’s where the man made 90% of his income. As well as the fact the daedric were old as time. Anything they were wanting could be in caves or tombs thousands of years old. untouched by anything or anyone. Their treasures would be their’s for the taking. The chance to find true riches as well as forgotten history? Definitely.


As Siroco watched from the rear of the group, he found that for the first time in a long while he was actually excited. His excitement would be contained though, he also heard of what the Daedric are notorious for doing to followers. Leading you on, only to kill you in the end, or take your soul.


Speaking up from the back, he did not wait for the others. “I accept your offer.” The dark skinned man crossed his arms and waited for the others to see what they would do.
 
Entering the inn she had looked around. the smell of booze was escaping in to her nose. She gave a disgust look as she looked around. A man blowing in to her face but she waved it away. "Mongrels" She muttered under her breath. She followed the others making sure to make her stand out to much despite her muscular built. She had her fill of gazing though. The men , the booze the whole outlook of the tavern. She snapped out of it when she was led in to another room in the back. "cramped." She muttered under her breath again. She hated cramp places, she always somewhere open, but she could deal with it for such a short time.


She was led in to a smaller area and was told to put her hand on the scroll. doing as told she put her hand on it and watched the woman who began chanting. Once everyone had finally gathered what was going on, everything was engulfed in a vibrant purple light, the dispersed showing the crew again but standing on a little sliver of dirt in the midst of a abyss. She watched them fight , amazed a little but not to the point where she thought she should clap or holler. This wasn't one of the battles orcs had. She humped as the man began to speak to them.


The money sound excellent and she had no objections to altering it. Her mind was made when he said he would send them back to where they came. That was clearly not an option for her. She let out a huff then nodded her head. "I am in." She nodded her head as she looked around for any others who would say yes. This little thing sounded fun , and if it was more fun than she thought, she would drag this out as long as she can. The wedding was yesterday or maybe tomorrow. She wasn't sure how the days worked when you traveled . She was sure enough to know that her father was furious .
 
'You didn't answer my question.' Durant thinks to himself as he follows the gilded figure through the streets. He listens to the distant sounds of market chatter, tools clanking, and waves slapping against the masonry. As they pass through an oaken door and under a sign that reads "Six Fishes Inn", Durant pulls his hood back on and lowers his head.


The room grows more silent as each patron enters the bustling inn, eyes turning to see the outlandish party and their distinctive exhibitor. The victualler seemingly knew of there coming, as he hands the Daedra a scroll without a word. 'Unusual.', Durant thinks as the Daedra beckons them forward .He grabs a bottle of brandy in passing, and tosses a few septims to the barkeep, as if to a supplicant, devil-may-care where they land.


The golden Daedra unravels the scroll within the cellar she led her company down inside of and bids them all touch the glyphic parchment. Durant takes one last swig of the brandy before who knows what, slaps the cork back into the bottleneck, and grasps a corner of the scroll. The Daedra-woman begins to cite the spell etched upon the scroll in a language unknown to the Breton.


A moment passes after the invocation, and the room pours over with fantastical mauve light. Durant's eyes become jaded, and shut tight. He loses his breath and exhales hard, feeling an immense falling sensation, and incredible g-force. The feeling swiftly fades, though it hinted towards an endless perpetuity, and he slowly opens his eyes.


The party now stood upon a hunk of earth deflated in comparison to the vast expanse of emptiness sprawled out in every direction. Beyond their "island" sat another holding two rather ominous figures. Durant makes out a shadowy, scheming Dremora and also a very grandiose Redguard, a kin to him moreso than his half-elf brethren. 'What the hell is going on?' he thinks.


The Dremora and Redguard begin contending, though the Dremora falls with little effort. 'What power.' Durant thinks. 'There is power in words, and in gold, but not of this calibre..' The Redguard magically raises stepping stones to aid his walk over the abyss. 'Is that earth magick? No. Can't be. No one has heard of such a thing since the destruction of Yokuda, and still those are only rumors.. It must be something darker..'


The Redguard gives them a proposition and reveals his Identity, Silas and that of their guide thus far, Staada. 'This could be dangerous, but the reward could see me my own ship!' Durant thinks. He was impressed with Silas and as he was about to speak an Altmer found voice to inquire about the Daedra's heart. Durant so decides to keep silent for now, but Silas has his sword.. for anything.
 
Do'Ja'K held back a chuckle, some of these people certainly had made an interesting first impression, the imperial had been punched in the face by the auriel, the breton stealing the auriel's gold and he was pretty sure someon had been behind him when handing over the letter, Do'Ja'K wasn't sure though.


Do'Ja'K smiled once he heard they were going to the Six Fishes Inn, he had never been there but he was happy to hear they would be out of this blasted rain and followed the auriel to the inn. The khajiit flinched at the stench within the inn the smell of booze and sweat wasn't very welcoming especially with such a sensitive nose.Do'Ja'K's ears perked up slightly as the Breton leaned towards him however whatever the breton was about to say was cut off as he was smacked across the back of the head with the scroll obtained from the counter.


Do'Ja'K follow the daedra down to the cellar and grabbed a part of the scroll as the daedra began reciting the spell on the scroll in a language Do'Ja'K didn't know and was soon after blinded by a bright, purple light, the khajiit quickly shut his eyes so he wouldn't be blinded although he could still clearly see the purple light emitting from the scroll.


Do'Ja'K looked around on the small island they had been teleported too, although he was no mage Do'Ja'K assumed that the daedra used a teleportation spell although he wouldn't be surprised if he was wrong. Do'Ja'K watched the redguard battle the dremora on the other island in awe, he was amazed at the redguard's skill with his spear most khajiit were never too skilled with close combat weapons in Elsweyr and the bandits that Do'Ja'K had fought weren't very skilled with their weapons.


Do'Ja'K liked the offer of money, lots of money "Do'Ja'K accepts your offer".
 
The arrival to this new land left him hungry, craving for a full meal that he couldn't afford. But down the streets he followed, listening intently. But being led to a tavern warmed his psyche; A Tavern? Meant cold brew, and possibly warm food. That was more than enough for him.


Being led to the cellar changed that. But he touched the scroll, and he did this in such a anxious manner, as if to get it over with as soon as he could, be it his choice or not. But the blinding sight-the light-threw him off harder. He recovered save it be for his experience of waking up at high noon. "What was that?" He barked.


But his demeanor changed again when he noticed the dremora. Oblivious of the redguard, he sought to call out at him to save him-but too quick, did the situation stave into the Redguard's own safety.


Standing with a hand half-up, and a puzzled expression. "Alright, you handle it." Watching the beheading with some pity for the ugly thing, if it only be for the cosmetic un-appeal.


Listening to him talk brought some joy to him, if it be just a sense of completion in their arrival, and the fact that there was now money involved.


"Fine by me." He calmly responded after the red-skin's disposal of quaint note. Better yet, two thousand? He could pay off his debt, maybe get a house. But he wondered if he'd get there.


"I accept. Though, what are we to do first?"
 
Vashanar was surprised to meet a Daedra. He had never seen one before. But he have heard of stories. Stories that can even make the manliest of man become as weak as a roach, Or worst. The deadra in golden lead them to the Inn somewhere. Vashanar doesn't really know why she would take them here. But hey, No pain in curiousity.


The inn was filled with drunkards, a bard playing and singing, and a whore. He sighed a little to see that this place was the same as the inn in his hometown. The Daedra then led them to the basement as they were warned not to touch anything as Vashanar shrugged. They say curiousity killed the cat, An example of those words might happen right now.


Then she offered the scroll. Vashanar not knowing what would happened next accepted and touched the scroll. Quickly and painlessly, They were teleported in some sort of isolated island. He looked around to see if there was something else. But nothing. It would be dangerous to get lost. He might not be able to get out anymore, So Vashanar just stayed on his toes and waited for what would happen next.


In here, There was a battle. He wasn't sure what was the purpose of this battle but he just watched in annoyance. He still wasn't sure why he was sent here. Until the man named Silas introduced himself as the person who sent the letters to everyone who received them. They were sent here for some recovering quest. In short, They were going to be used as some kind of a dog going after a stick the was thrown by the owner somewhere. Vashanar glared a little and continued to listen to Silas.


His offer was pretty nice. And the fact that they can have all the item during the quest, Except the object that they are going to look for. He wasn't sure if he would agree to this or not. He crossed his arms and looked down. His tail waggled and Vashanar looked at it. He felt that his tail was his second him. It sounded weird but that was who he was ever since. He stared at his tailed for a moment and nodded. He agreed to this expedition.
 
Karliah had followed, a little ways back, but she was here. The redguard, or false one, wasn't too surprising. He was the one who had sent the letter? How unamusing. She would have prefered it to have been someone along the lines of Sheogorath or something, not some Redguard thinking himself a God, which there were only 8.


She stepped forward, and spoke. "Now, why have you sent these letters to us? What are we to you?" Her voice sounded a little rough, maybe even monotonous.


Karliah wasn't the most trusting of Dunmer, as she trusted none here. If she were to catch that thief, Rann, or whatever his name was, trying to steal her staff, or something of hers, she'd burn him. Or, if anyone even tried to lay a finger on her they'd likely get smacked. She knew none of them, and she wanted it to stay that way.
 
The slap sent the assassin-thief reeling back, rubbing his sore cheek, the impact mitigated only by the fabric of the scarf that hid half of his face. Despite the pain, Raffaj managed a chuckle, which rose into a laugh as he stumbled to his feet. Ah, what a prize this was to catch. The harder they were to take, the more valuable they are to keep. The golden sheen of her skin, of her armor, and her ferocity, what fierce fire had forged such a perfect specimen? As the team moved along, the assassin’s eyes shifted not from the Golden Saint, as she introduced herself, his eyes focused upon her face, her physique and her entire existence as a whole. A saint, truly, for only such a beauty could have arrived from the heavens. Oh, what star-crossed lovers were they meant to be, he an assassin from the depths of darkness itself, and her, a gift to the earth from the heavens. Such a story ought to be carved upon stone, upon diamond, even, on every crystal and displayed in libraries all over, the pages detailing such a love never to be requited.


All this romanticism of Raffaj led him to completely ignore the teleportation, the fight, everything and everyone but the Saint herself, his reverie only broken by the Redguard who had won the fight, which had gone right over his head. All he heard, however, was a “Sound fair?” from the Redguard, named Silas if his limited attention was spot on. Raffaj only waved the question away, nodding slightly as an answer before he went back to almost worshipping the ground that the Saint stepped on.
 
When the Altmer,Lanus,made his request,Silas nodded,and replied, "Certainly. I'm sure Kathuket won't mind." He waved his hand,and a violet glow flashed from his hand. The segment of Silas' island that housed the Dremora's decapitated corpse broke off,and floated swiftly yet gently to the island that housed his guests. The small chunk of rock tapped lightly to the island,and Silas remarked, "I hope you brought your own knife."


The Redguard directed his attention to the master thief,Yann. "I need men and women of all talents for this job. It is impossible to tell how many phases there will be,but I can guarantee to you that there will be locks,traps,and those who want your head on a spike." He gestured to the assembled party,and said, "That's what the combatants are for. You,Yann,were selected for your uncanny ability to never be blocked." The Redguard smirked,and addressed the next issue,noting Durant's pleased expression,and Vashanar's nodding and wagging tail. Good. They'll be hard to replace.


At Sigmundr's question,the Redguard chuckled,and said, "First of all,I expect you all to rest in Ebonheart for the night. I'm certain your journeys were long,and you want some real food and drink in your bellies,as well as a proper bed. The Six Fishes has everything you need,and your up-front payment should cover room rentals and a meal...With enough change to buy a small house in Syeda Neen. I'll brief you in the morning." With that issue addressed,he turned his attention to the Dunmer in the crowd,Karliah.


"Valued employees. I will do everything I can to ensure your success in the endeavor,Karliah. You are all replaceable,yes,but it will be very difficult to do so. So difficult,in fact,that I'd rather scrap the expedition if I lose too many of you." He opened his arms wide. "It's in my best interest to be honest with you all,and to be your patron." He looked into the Dark Elf's eyes. She was a very closed woman. She probably won't take his honest words at face value. He momentarily thought of using a Charm spell to help persuade them,but he almost immediately dismissed the notion. Once the spell wore off,they'd be themselves again.


Finally,his gaze rested on the elderly Orsimer,who stood defiant,mouth drawn in a tight frown. His body language said it all. He didn't want any part in this. With a sympathetic nod,Silas said to the Orc, "I understand that this expedition is not for everyone,Uruk. And I can see you don't wish to participate." He drew a scroll from the back of his belt,and opened it with a flick of the wrist,while his other hand pulled a small phial from his belt. He popped the cork with his thumb,and slammed back the contents with one gulp,and began to read the incantation. It was,once again,in Daedric,and at it's conclusion,the scroll was consumed in amethyst flames,and Uruk gro-Maal was enveloped in a like-coloured light. When the light winked out,Uruk was gone. Back home,with his tribe. "Don't worry,I merely transported him back to his home." Looking at his team of ten,the Redguard smiled.


"We have a long road ahead of us,friends. If you don't have any other questions,I'll leave you to your evening." He produced another scroll from the back of his belt,and tossed it to Staada,who caught it deftly. "Please,enjoy Vvardenfell. And do get to know eachother." Staada opened the scroll,and recited it's Daedric incantation,and the party was swept back to the Six Fishes cellar. The Golden Saint led the party back up to the main floor,where the publican nodded a greeting,and Staada stood at attention at the cellar door,like a guard.
 
"I'm in and yes, what is an alchemist without tools eh?"


Lanus spared no time, hearts were best harvested when warm and fresh, clinging to the life streams they once pulsed through the bodies they belonged to. Lanus waited as the island bearing his daedra heart broke off from the mainland and drifted through the void to come to a small crunching stop beside their own island. Lanus ignored everything else for the moment and went to work. He undid the straps that held the Daedra's armour in place, for a moment he knelt there in silence while observing the armour.


For the moment he simply stripped the Daedra of its armaments and unsheathed his dagger, remembering the anatomy of the Lesser Dremora he placed his knife just beneath the chest cavity and away from the ribs and guts.He made a deep yet precise incision, rolled up his sleeve. From his pack he took a roll of horse intestines and rolled it down the length of his arm, with his arm encased in horse intestine he shoved unceremoniously into the wound he made until he could feel the bulbous organ that was the heart. With a steady hand he began to pinch the tubes and arteries around the heart until they gave in to the foreign pressure and released his prize.


With his harvesting done he burned the used horse intestines with a gout of cleansing flame and wrapped his prize in a square of oiled burlap before tying it with twine. Plopping the heart away in his pack he turned to the Dremora's armour, he looked for a moment at the enigmatic Redguard and shrugged. He'd deal with it should it become an issue. Firstly he took the gauntlets and packed them into the greaves, then he took the Epaulets and strapped them together. Then he took to the Fauld, the cuisse and the Flutes, folding them all within the chest plate. On top of those he stacked the greaves and gauntlets, he then enclosed them all by strapping the chest plate closed.


The helm was last and was tacked on to the rest of the armour with a few leather straps, The suit looked like it had been miniaturized. The last step he took was to cast feather , a short incantation and he could heft the sizable and weighty armour, it still took much of his strength to carry it but it was a farsight lighter than it would have been without the magic. He waddled his way back to the group.


"Since you defeated him, this set of armour is in fact yours, however you can call it an investment, I will sell this on your behalf minus my fee of course and in 1-2 years go in search of my name, at the end you shall find your dividends."


He smiled charmingly at the Redguard, of course it wouldn't matter if he died during the course of this adventure, he had plans in place to pay his debts should it ever go that far.


Once they were returned to the Inn Lanus teetered up the stairs behind Staada and up into the Tavern floor. He lumbered over to the innkeeper, paid the money owed for a room and lumbered out of the inn, he knew exactly where he was going as he memorized his entire route from the docks to the tavern and went on until he found a rather shoddy looking building.


Inside he found an old man tending his stock, Lanus dumped his load atop the counter with a heavy thud and the merchant jumped up in fright.


"You are a merchant yes?"


He asked and the old man nodded, he was frightened but intrigued.


"You will buy this armour for two hundred drakes. I will then invest 100 of those Drakes in your store, you will then sell this armour to the next lord who wanders into your shop in search of the rumours of magical daedric armour for 400 drakes. You will put away 10% of your profit. The moment you sell this armour, and you will indeed sell it, you will have a greater intake of customers because of the deal you made with that one lord."


Lanus paused and waited for the old man to comprehend, finally the man realised he was getting the better deal but Lanus had as yet to finish his offer.


"My investment of 100 Drakes will earn me 2 percent of your profits for the next 10 years, if someone comes calling and uses my name you will give him 70% of the dividends. You have saved. If I do not return after that you may keep the remaining 30% but you must offer my name to any other traders and merchants in the area. Are we agreed?"


Lanus waited for the man patiently, the old merchant finally nodded but yet again he was not finished. From his pack he took a sheaf of parchment, an inkwell and a quill, he wrote up a contract and inscribed the sheaf with arcane runes and signed his name on the paper before handing it to the old man. He punctuated his offer with a small flame perched on the tip of his finger.


"I have enchanted this parchment, once you sign you will be bound to our agreement as I will be. Consider your options good man, rest assured I always do my best to ensure that things turn out best for my friend and for myself."
 
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