18+ Price of a Hunter's Zeal

[Wauten Dayhil]

It is 4E 257. More than half a century has passed since the dragons returned to the skies of Tamriel and the unknown Last Dragonborn slew them. During the continent-wide political upheaval that accompanied the Dragon Crisis, the various Daedric Princes have taken the opportunity to expand their respective influences on the world of Nirn. Chosen from the ranks of their most fervent mortal adherents, those who came to be known as "Representatives" assumed control of the cults and shrine territories of their respective Lords. The rapid and violent - yet limited - conquest did little to capture the attention of the political powers warring across the face of Tamriel.

The Aedra, however, took a very different stance on this eruption of Daedric influence. To combat growing the tide of Daedric worshipers, the Aedra reached out to their own devotees. In the two years following the return, and subsequent elimination of Alduin, the World Eater, the influence of both factions grew exponentially all across Tamriel. While the Daedric cults expanded nearly unhindered in the untamed wilderness, the priests and priestesses of the Divines dominated the cities and large towns, purging the Daedric cultists from their cities and towns.

Though the war between the followers of Aedra and Daedra has now continued for years, showing no signs of stopping, one Representative stepped beyond their unspoken boundaries. Athhelfin, Hircine's Representative, took to the streets of Falkreath with dozens of werewolves. The quiet town's guardsmen could do little to stop the onslaught of teeth and claws as the citizens were torn apart, even as arrow and blade pierced the wolves' hides. The whole of Falkreath's Hold fell under Athhelfin's control within a fortnight, and no human was spared, the forest's entirety becoming a hunting ground for the weres. With more and more of Hircine's creatures being drawn to Skyrim's southern border, it's only a matter of time before the crazed Wood Elf makes a push further into Skyrim's lands. And, for various reasons, both the Aedra and Daedra have decided to send their own Representatives to stop Athhelfin and his growing army before all of Tamriel is soaked in blood.

In an effort to share information, and perhaps work together, many of the Representatives have gathered north of the town of Morthal. Making use of the Magickally attuned Summoning Stone circle as a gathering place that anyone bound to a Lord or Divine would recognize even at a distance, dozens of Representatives have arrived in the hopes of garnering some sort of advantage in the coming times.

 

[Wauten Dayhil]

Vastatya Liirtumil rose from the rock she'd taken as a seat, and looked around at the surrounding forest. The darkness that smothered the ground beneath the boughs of the trees would be frightening to some, but the High Elf knew it was for the best. Not everyone who'd pledged themselves in service to an Aedra or Daedra could claim to be proud of the scars garnered in battle for their Name.

Arriving alone, and nearly two days early, Vastatya had waited. She'd spent her hours meditating, dreaming, planning... She'd been glad that an agreement was reached, for this particular place and time to be used for the meeting. Two full moons shone above, basking her in a faint light, while further darkening the surrounding forest, to provide cover for those who wished to take part without being seen.

Also the perfect time to place a blade between someone's ribs, she thought to herself, fully expecting to trip over at least one cooling body before dawn arrived. But best not to dwell on that... Squaring her shoulders, the Altmer woman lifted her chin as she looked forward, and raised her voice to be heard by any who had gathered. "Tonight," she began, "is the beginning of a conquest. For whatever reasons they have, your Divines or your Lords have sent you here, to complete a mission. My own Lord Vaermina sent myself and my blade to bleed as many weres as possible, though even I know not why she ordered it. And so I will." She paused for effect... and for breath, before continuing.

"In addition, she wishes for me to find, among those gathered, a party to travel with. Again, I know not why. But I am glad, for even I cannot take on a pack of weres alone, and expect to leave the battle alive." She listened, for movement or the crunch of underbrush, but heard nothing. "I will be leaving at dawn. If anyone wishes to share their knowledge when it comes to fighting such creatures, please step forward. If anyone wishes to join me when I depart, again, step forward."

She sat back down on her rock, and waited once more.

 

[thatguy2]

Rolf and Ulfric soon arrived north of Morthal. Their journey had been a long one, travelling from the northwestern section of Whiterun Hold. Ultimately they arrived, hearing the High Elf speak.
"In addition, she wishes for me to find, among those gathered, a party to travel with. Again, I know not why. But I am glad, for even I cannot take on a pack of weres alone, and expect to leave the battle alive." Soon after Rolf asked, "Where are we going? Ulfric and I are more than willing to help you with your cause, whatever that may be."

 

[kenia153]

Runa preferred to avoid most conflicts. However, she had found that lady Mara had different plans for her...

Stepping along the beaten path, she soon arrived at her destination. Examining her surrounding she noticed many gathered here. How many were aligned with daedra, she wondered?

She didn't pay much attention to what was being said, something about a beginning of a conquest... Runa was too busy studying everyone. While she did so, she was rubbing a smooth stone in her hands. It was just a plain old rock, but when she was nervous she like to have something to fiddle with. An odd quirk, but not something she was ashamed of. Better to rub a rock than bite her claws, as she did when she was younger.

Everyone faced an altmer woman, certainly this was the woman who led the gathering. She was also the one talking.

"...My own Lord Vaermina sent myself and my blade to bleed as many weres as possible, though even I know not why she ordered it. And so I will."

Runa began listening carefully.

"In addition, she wishes for me to find, among those gathered, a party to travel with. Again, I know not why. But I am glad, for even I cannot take on a pack of weres alone, and expect to leave the battle alive." The altmer woman paused yet again. "I will be leaving at dawn. If anyone wishes to share their knowledge when it comes to fighting such creatures, please step forward. If anyone wishes to join me when I depart, again, step forward."

She had no useful information on fighting these werewolves, but she was going to try to tag along. The idea of fighting werewolves scared her, but Mara sent her here for a reason. She would help if she could, and perhaps she could even heal some of these people in more ways than one. To serve Mara was incentive enough.

Stepping forward, Runa clasped her hands together and looked around her to see who else dared to come along. One asked a question, "where are we going? Ulfric and I are more than willing to help you with your cause, whatever that may be."

This man's intentions puzzled Runa. Was he not also serving a Divine, or a daedra?

 

[Seanu Reaves]

Malus could not help but growl as his fine shoes where getting dirty. It was bad enough he did not even want to take part in this mission, his patron “politely” reminding him of what happens if one disobeys Mephala, but the meeting place was not even in a city. The only real saving grace is that he was given a mission to kill those who worked against his patron. He felt he was getting closer when he started hearing voices out in the wild.

Tossing his half cape to allow easier access to his sword, Malus crept forward. His mind quickly formulating his new persona to blend into the group. Likely a merchant, he thought. Quickly formulating a background and figuring the mannerisms he would adopt, he decided that it would be easier to be close to himself with a touch of lies to keep the illusion up.

“Ummm…” Malus adjusted his expression to that of a nervous man, his voice a nervous squeak. “Hi… My name is Casil… My lady Dibella came to me, and asked me to come out here… Apparently, I could help.”

 

[Specter of Death]

It was as if the snow and gentle breeze didn’t exist as the giant of a man trudged a path through the frost-covered underbrush. Thick trees and rolling hills gradually turned into low laying banks and ponds, the staple terrain of the areas around Morthal, as step by step propelled him and his small bodied partner forward. The night was cloudless, and the moons Masser and Segunda shown bright, the air frigid and sharp, the breeze behind it letting it bite the skin. Talion did not notice in the slightest, but his partner was not in the same boat. Her breath was shaking and uncontrolled, on the verge of shivers, despite his arm being draped over her, and her frame tucked into the side of his frame as they walked. Even with her own cloak and hood on to protect her, it was apparent just how much this midnight weather was affecting her.

“You may as well use mine,” Talion spoke in a sigh, taking the wrap of cloak and goods strung on his back and unwrapping the contents inside of it. He pulled her carrying sling off of her back and shoved his items inside of it before throwing it over his own shoulder. In one swift motion, what once held his belongings, unfurled into a grand bearskin cloak. The size of him, he knew his cloak would be more than enough to make her comfortable in such frigidity, and threw it over her body to drape her in it. He saw the look of discomfort rapidly fade from her face, and his face lit up with a smirk of content. He pulled her back under his arm and continued south-west toward the small marshy city.

“I was right!” She stomped, speaking in a condescending and matter-of-fact tone.

“You were right,” he repeated, in a low uncaring voice.

“I told you you wouldn’t get cold in a little late night breeze through the snow,” she added.

“And I didn’t,” he continued, carrying on his low and monotone voice, now having a slight heir of exhaustion.

“And you waited for me to get cold before giving me your cloak, rather than when I asked for it before we left that cave,” Tauriel finished in a huff, feigning a sad tone.

“I waited until y-wait,” Talion began in his same tone, before shooting a glare down at here in slight offense, “Oh I did no such thing! And you know it.”

He squeezed her under his arm as he saw a little sly grin creep across her face and returned her smile. Her breath was steady and comfortable now as her body further warmed itself. The grin stayed on his face for a good bit of the trek, pleased by her comfort and her body hugging even closer to him. When they were together, there was something unspoken and comfortable. And it did nothing less than make him happy every chance it could.

“We’ll hit the tavern on the way south to the camp when we get there,” he spoke calmly, reassuringly giving her something more to smile at and look forward to, “to warm up properly and the like.”

She didn’t respond, but rather nodded her head in agreement, as her face was buried in his side. He was looking forward to getting warm and filled with mead, and enjoying his partner’s vibrant personality once she was out of the biting cold. As the two continued in a calm and comfortable silence, the sounds of muffled voices echoed nearby. Between the duo and the voices, a small hill and the gentle hush of an ever-going breeze kept the words from being decipherable from their position. The two of them glanced at each-other briefly, before instinctually turning in the direction of the voices.

“For even I cannot take on a pack of weres alone,” the duo could finally make out, as they reached the top of the hill, “and expect to leave the battle alive.”

​

A dozen of yards ahead of them, down the slope of the hill, stood a small crowd of people surrounding a stone summoning circle, or rather the remnants of one. At the center of the circle, stood an altmer woman, clearly the source of the stern toned voice. Talion nudged Tauriel, and looked down at her with an eyebrow cocked. They both nodded in mutual understanding, before looking back toward the circle, and the mer.

“Falkreath,” they said in unison, hushed and unheard by all but themselves.

“I will be leaving at dawn,” the altmer started once again.

Then a flash of white light blinded the vision of the bird and the bear from the left. Though the unnaturally white light was overly noticeable to them, Talion could see that nobody else seemed to notice it. Nobody seemed to see it like they were.

“Worry not, bear spirit,” a loud, commanding and echoing voice of a woman called from the direction in which light was shining, “I am not visible to any but the two of you; nor is my glow or my voice."

Talion glanced down at his companion to see her face turned and focused in the direction of the light. He followed her example. Ahead of them, a ways off from the crowd and themselves, a large spectral horned owl sat perched on a fallen log leaning against another tree.

“You both will join this crusade,” the spirit said succinctly, “’tis my divine will.”

Talion and Tauriel’s eyes locked for a moment, briefly reading each-other, then looking back in the direction of the spirit. “Who-” they both started to inquire simultaneously, before being cut off.

“Who am I?” The spirit finished their question, “I am the mother of wind and sky. Guardian flora and fauna. Protector of all Tamriel’s creatures. I am Kyne.”

Neither of them could muster up any words, or movement. They were frozen and locked in place through sheer awe of the commanding presence of the godess' disguise.

“And you, spirits of Bird and Bear, have been chosen,” as these words echoed from her form and into the sky, the great owl’s wings unfurled and spread wide, “Join this mission. I will guide you.”

And in an instant, the owl jumped from it’s perch and soared into the sky, then out of the mortal plane. Talion’s eyes fell to his feet, as he shivered feeling the goosebumps slowly fade away from his skin. Tauriel’s gentle touch on his back, and half-hearted nudge back into focus, brought his eyes up to her.

“Let’s go chime in Li,” she said gently, tugging him in the direction of the group, “don’t stress, just breathe. Remember that you are bigger and smarter than everyone surrounding us, and nobody can hurt us if we don’t let them. I’m here with you, we’re safe.”

Talion nodded as they started to move through the packed crowd, slowly toward the center of the ruined stone circle and the altmer woman. As the center where she stood grew closer and closer to them as they stepped, Talion suddenly became aware that she was still talking. He missed most of her words, not that he really cared, as he zoned out into his own head.

“If anyone wishes to join me when I depart, again, step forward.” Her voice trailed off, as she turned and walked toward one of the pillars on the edge of the circle to lean on.

Talion instinctively looked down at Tauriel, who’s eyes were waiting for his contact. And in another unspoken understanding, they step forward into the circle.

“We’re gonna go ahead and tag along, seeing as you are so eager and willing to add members to your little party,” Tauriel piped up, revealing her face more out of Talion’s over-sized cloak, and crossing her arms. Talion mimicked her body language, crossed his arms, and let his stoic and emotionless gaze fall upon the mer.

 

[Wauten Dayhil]

Vastatya had hoped she'd gain the aid of at least one other Representative, to watch her back or at the very least distract the werewolves long enough for her to sheath her blade in one or two necks. She'd been planning to wait until dawn, as well, for them to show themselves without alerting the others to their actions. Instead, though, she was greeted by not just one person, but six - all of whom looked capable of wielding a blade, if only for self-defense. What was even more startling was the speed with which they presented themselves. She'd hardly had time to settle back down before they emerged from the forest, pledging their swords to the conquest.

A small smile quirked at her lips, and she softened her gaze for a moment as she looked them all over. Each of them seemed like they'd seen at least some combat - except for the Dunmer, but he looked smart enough to run when danger presented itself - though she still wondered how many could stay alive if they were swarmed by weres. Still, though, anything was better than nothing. And she had quite a few where who were more than just anything. She nodded slowly, looking at each of them in turn, and then beyond to the forest.

Though she knew it was asking too much, the Altmer still held out hope that more would offer their help. But, as she should have expected, none did. She could even feel the receding presence of those in the trees as they all went their separate ways. The emptiness of the woods pressed against her, suffocating in its quiet. It felt both serene and ominous at the same time, and Vastatya shivered in response. Not wanting to appear offensive, she rose once more from her seat, and clasped her hands in front of her. Raising her chin, she addressed the gathered volunteers in a stern voice again.

"I've already said it, but I'll introduce myself to you all again, and I'd appreciate it if you'd do the same for myself and the others," she began, looking to each of them. "My name is Vastatya Liirtumil, of the Summerset Isle. I owe my life and soul to Vaermina, and will do whatever necessary to bring glory to my Lord's name. I will begin my trek to Falkreath at dawn, with the aim of capturing and/or eliminating Hircine's Representative - Athhelfin - before he can wreak more havoc on our world. I have already rented the entirety of the inn's rooms in Morthal, so we can all rest there for a few hours once this meeting is finished." She took a breath, and relaxed her body as she finished her address once again.

With any luck, she thought, I'll survive and my Lord will grow stronger as Skyrim's citizens sleep once again.

 

[kenia153]

Once given the opportunity to speak, Runa figured she ought to introduce herself, so she did so openly. She had nothing to hide. "Lady Mara brought me here. I am Runa Love-Hand... While not trained in the art of a sword, or even the destructive magics, I can certainly assist you through other means. Such as my restorative abilities." Her eyes seemed to smile, and her nordic accent lightly came through.

Runa watched as others stepped forward. They were few. Unfortunately, many vanished into the woods after hearing most of this altmer's speech. This made her a bit doubtful... Just how much of a chance did they have?

Smiling kindly at the Dibella worshipper, she hoped to ease some of his worries. She wanted him to know that among all these dangerous and possibly black-hearted people, he could find a friend.

Upon hearing that Vastatya had rented out the whole inn, Runa nodded and asked politely, "Are we finished here, then?"

The khajiit then wondered to what extent she could trust even the Divine's followers. Perhaps this was a trap. Unlikely though, as Mara would not have led her here if that were so. Sighing, she glanced around at the unfamiliar faces once again. Reaching into her pouch, Runa plopped in her stone and pulled out a couple snowberries. Popping them in her mouth, she looked at Vastatya to see if she had anything else to say.

 

[Seanu Reaves]

The Khajiit is bearing her teeth at me, the assassin thought. That is bothersome. It occurred to the Dark Elf, mostly through the strange accent and speech patterns, this Khajiit seemed to be more Nordic in culture. She didn’t even refer to herself as ‘this one.’ Malus groaned inwardly even if it wasn’t a blessing dealing with traditional Elswyr syntax, deciding that it would be better to play it safe. He managed a weak looking smile and a wave towards the Khajiit that revealed herself as a healer. Well, he thought as he glanced over at the potential leader of this group. At least that is one less knife in the back to worry about.

He looked at the newcomers, a bosmeri and a giant. No, it appeared to just be abnormally large Nord on second look, not that there was much difference between the primitive giants and the Nords they shared a homeland with. Arms crossed, a sign of disrespect and intimidation with little thought to action. It made sense to the assassin that the man who was already a large intimidating mass of muscle would adopt such a stance since he lacked armor on his chest otherwise.

Malus looked at the Wood Elf, his expression softening into an awkward smile before he looked away. A woman after my own heart, the assassin thought to himself. That stance likely gave her access to a weapon or two, and she was no stranger to hiding judging by how she faded into the shadow of the cloak. I wonder what her shoes look like, Malus shook his head as if physically willing the thought away. No point in bothering too much.

“I… I-I-I’m Casil… From Solitude… Though I re-recently came back to the mainland from Solsthiem… I was asked to record this journey… M-M-M-M-M… Lady Dibella said this would inspire those for years to come.” Malus changed the inflection of his voice to slowly grow more confident as he spoke. The assassin had to admit that he loved his disguise of Casil the Cobbler, it allowed him to rest well and plan for his real mission. Hircine’s foolish representative would find that time was running short. “I’m a shoemaker, but I was at one point a member of the Bard’s College. S-s-so... I can try to help anywhere I can.”

 

[Wauten Dayhil]

Vastatya glanced about at the gathered Representatives, and gave a long sigh. They're all either highly dangerous, the Altmer thought as she sized Talion up, or they're going to fall apart in the first meet-and-greet with a pack of weres, glancing between the Khajiit and Dunmer who'd had a brief exchange. Her eyes lingered on the Dark Elf, "Casil", for a moment longer, noting his deceptively toned muscles. Though even one-person love-making can build muscle, I suppose. Shrugging inwardly, the woman straightened herself up and raked them all with her "fall in line, or I gut you" glare before she spoke once more.

"Seeing as how we've come to a bit of a break in conversation, I suggest we retreat to Morthal's inn," she said, unable to keep a small yawn from escaping her lips, "we can conclude our introductions there, be it by the hearth or in the morning." As Vastatya started heading back to Morthal, pushing her way through the light brush, she remembered the irksome Orc residing at the inn. "Oh, and do be careful not to slit the bard's throat," she called over her shoulder as the forest's shadows engulfed her, "and I don't mean Casil."

 

[Hlíf 'Ulfr]

The flakes that fell about the pair glittered as the pale glow of the night fell upon them, some lingering, decorating the lashes that shielded the bosmer's stormy eyes. The soft fall, however, was in sharp contrast to the gaze itself, piercing and searching those around her with a deadly spark. She could feel eyes upon her, coming and going as they pleased despite the cover that the oversized cloak provided. Anxiously, or perhaps angrily the pale fingers twined, interlacing within the pelt of the bear which seemed to consume her in its folds.

Like daggers, and with the speed of a bird of prey her attention flickered to the Altmer whose speech continued, though no more impressive than her first words. With an audible scoff and the lifting of a single arched brow, she showed her whole range of emotion as it related to the plan. With attention redirected to her partner, she motioned with her head once towards the woman, her facial expression detailing her contempt with more accuracy than most could explain with words.

Though he hid his amusement well his body jerked as the suppressed chuckle rippled through his frame, paired with a well-hidden twisted half smile. He received a small bump, though it could not hope to move him, and a nondescript expression of her shared amusement. He was used to hearing her quips, though her fiery approach never grew tiresome nor failed to amuse.

Just after the she elf felt her giant companion settle from her humor, she felt an enormous arm drape itself over her shoulder, pulling her into his side. The warmth the emanated from him through the pelt cloak that engulfed her brought her a sense pride and comfort. His hand brushed up against her crossed arms, looking for a spot to settle. Glancing up at the bear, Re could see his eyes glazed over and looking ahead through everything in front of him, her companion was seeking comfort; something that had been a somewhat common occurrence. She let her arms uncross and fold his hand in with her forearms as she recrossed them, squeezing gently as she leaned into him. This was an active attempt to pull that shade from his gaze, and as his breathing slowed and she heard his heartbeat slow, she knew it had been working.

Satisfied and ornamented with a sly grin she shook her head, dispelling the thought and clearing her mind to examine the others. However, this proved to be a rather tedious task as she found not one to hold any true interest. The only use they seemed to present was to further strengthen her contempt for the plan which appeared to be built in shambles, and with an unstable foundation. If the group had comprised a simple few powerful figures, adept in the ways of war and the dealing of death the plan would have been foolish. With the current assembly, it was no more than a joke.

"So let me reiterate what the plan is to my understanding thus far." She hissed up to her partner, gesturing smoothly to indicate those to whom she was referencing, "We, meaning mostly me and you seeing as the majority of these fools look useless in combat so seemingly have tagged along for no more than dinner and a show, will be taking on thousands of werewolves ourselves in an all-out battle to the death. Sounds pleasant, downright dreamy. I can't wait, nor can I imagine any other way I would like to spend my time, dying aside."

Talion, much more conscious of retaining composure grinned and averted his eyes momentarily to guard the near silent laughter that managed to escape him only lifting his eyes once all amusement had drained from them. Contrasting this was Re's always apparent attitude, though concealed within the bulk of a garment far exceeding her stature and thus also concealing a great deal of body language she managed to make her position very apparent. She dared others to challenge her in her calculated yet untamed behavior and so made no attempt to hide. A lesson one individual in their party would soon come to learn.

As she listened to the other members and their introductions, taking in the information without any undue effort, she felt eyes upon her. Stray strands of light brown hair lifted from their resting place to dance playfully in the wind, as she directed a hard stare forward. Shifting her weight she weighed her options, tired of the eyes that always seemed to follow her, picking at her. Finally, angering herself enough she shifted, the unsavory eyes of the accused darting away before they could meet.

She felt herself bristle, her nostrils flare slightly in a subconscious show of distaste and anger. A sneer, akin to the snarling of a wolf, contorting her otherwise lovely visage. Her face hardened, he had lingered much too long. And as he stammered out an explanation for his presence it reeked of falsehood or a mad divine. At least the khajiit had some use to the group, though not much, but a cobbler? What divine would send such a man into battle? There was something off about this fact, and without looking, the bird could tell her bear had his eyes burning into the deceiver at question.

"Doesn't seem to add up," he grunted under his breath, "what god in their right mind would send a waste of breath like him to send us all to our doom?"

She nodded along with his thought, and finally allowed her eyes to pull away from the coward. The burning eyes of the Altmer woman distracted her from the line of thought which she shared with Talion, and she was quick to let out the words the woman and all the wondering eyes were waiting for.

"They call me The Bird. I am here to help, that is all you need know. I have no need to share my name, and quite frankly have no intention of doing so." She informed with a curt nod of her head and a matter of fact tone as though it was commonplace to reply in such a way.

 

[thatguy2]

Rolf and Ulfric travelled with the rest of the group, hoping that they would arrive at the inn soon.

 

[Wauten Dayhil]

As Vastatya pushed her way through the brush, she sighed inwardly as one of the others hastened to catch up with her. Not even hiding your presence? She thought to herself as her steps slowed down. Turning about, she watched as the Khajiit woman emerged from the trees, keeping a wary eye out. She seemed to jump a bit when her eyes rested on the waiting Altmer, apparently not expecting to have been heard.

"Yes?" Was all the swordwoman asked, arching an eyebrow as she kept an eye on their surroundings.

"My Lady Mara," the Khajiit began in a hushed whisper, inching closer to the Altmer to make her words clearer, "she has spoken to me. One of her shrines is in need of repair after someone lay waste to it yesterday. She has asked me to return, and to help repair her sacred shrine." She turned away from the Altmer without another word, and disappeared into the forest once more, leaves and twigs crunching and cracking with every step. Eventually, her footsteps could be heard no more, and Vastatya turned around again as she continued her trek to Morthal. In her mind, she counted off the number of capable fighters in their party, and grew a bit colder inside as she wondered just how much they could actually do.

-----

Reaching Morthal, Vastatya hurried across the bridge and into the inn, taking a seat by the fire as soon as she could. She wasn't sure if she was hoping to have arrived early or late, for she had yet to see anyone from their party in sight. With a heavy sigh, the Altmer's head began to bounce, and she could bear it no longer. Sleep rushed over her like a tidal wave, and she fell into the kind of slumber that she had come to hate as much as she craved.

 

[Seanu Reaves]

Casil made his way through the trees, his breathing even. The same amount of time emptying his lungs completely as it took to fill them. An oddly comforting action as he felt his body tingle with the sudden influx of oxygen, beyond breathing more of a meditative technique. He wondered about the pair of experienced adventurers who did not claim a divine, but gave such obnoxiously simple titles. Malus focused on his breathing, it isn’t that he hated the Nordic system of adopting a title instead of a family clan name as applicable… It was just they could be so dull… A large man calling himself a bear was especially annoying. The mention of the Bard’s College was no lie, and he had read of so many burly bear men.

Casil whistled for a spell before he ended up talking to no one in particular. “Is this truly my purpose… Dibella willing, I was hoping to find inspiration in peace. Instead I am being called forth to war.”

His hand fell to his sword. His feet moving him forward as his breathing let him drift away even as he spoke.

“Brother was the fighter… I stuck to books… Yet here I am wearing his sword… Planning to go to war with those I don’t know… Whose aims I cannot know…”

As he found himself within vision of the Inn he took a deep breath. As he stepped onto the planks leading up to the Moorside Inn. He looked out over the water, taking a seat on the steps of the inn. He shivered as he heard the crunch of snow, more due knowing what it would have felt like on his skin. Producing a small cloth he began to clean his shoes, looking at nothing in particular.

 

[Specter of Death]

These people are all watching you, giant! They are all laughing at your size. They are laughing at you. They hate you. You’re a joke; a freak of nature! You’re a mistake, a waste of life! Why even walk around? Why do anything? You are NOTHING!

SHHHH. Shut up! Shut up!! Shut up!!! This is MY mind; my head - and you must listen to ME. And you WILL obey! I’m not alone anymore, I will never be alone again, just leave me alone already! GO AWAY!

WHY DON’T YOU JUST DIE ALREADY?! WHY WON’T YOU GIVE UP?! JUST KILL YOURSELF! TAKE THEM ALL WITH YOU!

SILENCE. I am NOT your fool. I am not your puppet anymore, and I am not listening to you anymore right now. YOU ARE NOTHING!



After chuckling for a moment at his companion’s wordless remark toward their newly found leader, Talion’s sight and mind blurred into an all too familiar war. Though he knew how to silence the noise, sometimes he was not able to regain his grip on reality alone. Instinctually, Talion let his arms uncross and his left arm wrap itself around the she-elf’s small frame. at once he felt her gaze warm his face as she looked up at him, and her touch on his hand gradually reeled his mind back in. Gently her fingertips moved up and down his lower forearm, now crossed in her arms, and she leaned into him warmly. Gradually his vision became focused, and Talion started to regain control of his breathing.

"So let me reiterate what the plan is to my understanding thus far." Her voice hissed up to his ears, a smooth gesture toward those left followed, "We, meaning mostly me and you seeing as the majority of these fools look useless in combat so seemingly have tagged along for no more than dinner and a show, will be taking on thousands of werewolves ourselves in an all-out battle to the death. Sounds pleasant, downright dreamy. I can't wait, nor can I imagine any other way I would like to spend my time, dying aside."

Stiffening his body in a somewhat successful attempt to regain his newfound composure from breaking into laughter, dropped his eyes to the snow-packed earth beneath his feet. Only looking back up once he was sure no more amusement begged to escape him, the surrounding group was now open to his conscious examination. The group was a fraction of its original size now, leaving only a few. None Talion cared to take notice of until he felt a heat radiate off Re’s body. Her eyes burned into a dunmer man, small and cowardly, who’s eyes instantly darted away from her form. In the moment Talion saw his gaze, he could sense his dissecting eyes picking at his companion before turning away and stammering up his name in shakes. A cobbler?

Something sent a heat from within him, much like his partner, the fire of protection over her with contempt. Reading the man, something off-putting filled his thoughts about the mer. No being, aedra or not, would send a cobbler of all people to join or even record a mission as deadly as this. Perhaps a disguise, one put on by a mortal more cowardly than even this ruse puts off?

"Doesn't seem to add up," he grunted under his breath, "what god in their right mind would send a waste of breath like him to bring us all to our doom?"

The bird’s simple nod in acknowledgment toward his assertion, was all it took to put the man back at their mutual disinterest. His gaze drifted back over to the once loud and commanding altmer, who’s eyes were staring at them blankly, awaiting something from the duo. Just as Talion drew in breath to begin speaking, his inhale was interrupted by his partner’s voice.

"They call me The Bird. I am here to help, that is all you need know. I have no need to share my name, and quite frankly have no intention of doing so," she let out with a tone portraying slight exhaustion.

“I am The Bear,” he spoke gruffly, and short, “I am here with the same intentions as my partner. You need not know me by name. And I suppose since it holds some importance to you, we are worshipers of Kyne, not that it adds to what we can offer here.”

When the Altmer woman was finished eying him and his partner she turned and mentioned continuing toward the marsh town due south, to continue discussion at the inn. A heavy sigh rushed through his nostrils, as he looked up toward the night sky, clear as crystal and illuminated by the twin moons.

“I suppose we head to camp and pack our things,” he started, looking down at the she elf basking in the warmth of his body heat and cloak, “we can leave any extra weight and find a nice stump to stuff it in - come back to get it sometime after this merry little escapade.”

Tauriel let his arm loose, and raised her arms in a stretch, not truly acknowledging his words until turning to look up at him from the cover of the bear-skin that hid more than half her body.

“Then I suppose we meet the rest of the whelps at the tavern, and you buy me that drink you promised,” she finally replied quietly, stepping forward, and falling into his torso without thought.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grinned, and wrapped himself around her in a gentle squeeze.

-~~8~~-​

The warmth of the tavern changed the Bird’s body language as they stepped through the oaken door. Now without his cloak surrounding her, Talion could practically see the cold fall away from her frame as she lead him to an empty table at the corner of the otherwise deserted room. As the two plopped down, Talion’s nose started to fill with the fragrant scents of mead and salted pork, his ears awakened with the popping of burning logs and the drunken chanting of a bard.

Without hesitation, the duo threw their packs off, and propped their feet up on the table whilst leaning into positions of comfort, wasting no time in enjoying the relaxation the two had craved after the long day. Talion let a high pitched whistle escape his lips, gesturing at the barmaid to come over to them both. As she approached their table, Talion pulled the large and heavy tankard out of his pack and set it on the table in front of her.

“Mead,” he spoke before the woman could, “for her too.”

As he gestured with a quick tilt of his head, Tauriel threw a handful of coins onto the table with a smirk. The woman nodded her head, scooping the septims into her palm and taking the Bear’s large tankard as she retreated back to the bar. He looked at Tauriel, as she dropped the purse of coins back into his pack with a wink, before letting her head rest in the interlaced fingers behind her head.

“We’re a ‘comrade’ short,” Talion spoke mimicking her position of comfort, scanning the room filled with the familiar faces they had met at the ruin, “the cat.”

Re chirped in a short chuckle, a small smirk growing on her face, “now lose the cobbler, and we may have a chance at dying with some dignity.”

Talion’s chuckle was full now, not bothering to try to hide his amusement at his partner’s unique sense of humor, as nobody was near enough to hear their banter. He couldn’t help but find the job a bit funny, as the plan did appear to be a little lackluster, but they had not heard all the altmer’s ideas laid out yet. Talion expected the possibility that the plan could be more perfected and tactful, due to the commands Kyne had given them just moments before pledging their membership.

“We all might be the punch-line of a sick joke Hircine has concocted, unless our altmer friend elaborates on our course of action,” he jested, grinning back at his partner, who met his grin with her own.

As Talion turned, the barmaid returned, setting his tankard and a smaller tankard filled with mead on the table for the two to indulge on. The excited, child-like grin gracing his face was uncontrollable, as he lifted his tankard to his lips. When he started to let his mouth swell with the liquid he loved so dear, the maid began to turn away. Without taking the tankard away from his mouth with one hand, Li grabbed the maid’s arm with the other as he gulped down the last of the mead all at once, holding it back out to the woman.

“Another round, my dear,” he spoke charmingly, reaching into his pack for his coin purse, “And a couple bowls of that stew over the fire there too, thanks.”

Talion dumped a decent pile of coins on the table with a grin, watching the woman scoop them up once more and turn back towards the bar. A silent burp escaped his mouth, as he leaned back into his chair, and returned to looking at the bird.

“Maybe once our bellies our full we rent ourselves a room and get some well earned rest?” Talion spoke, gesturing back to their high elf leader who was leaned back in a chair across the room deep in sleep, “she looks to be okay with that idea.”

“I am in,” Tauriel spoke in a sigh, tilting her own head back with her eyes closed, “I could use some sleep. So could you Bear, I know you had a moment earlier and if Bear doesn’t get his rest, he’ll only have more.”

“Mhm,” he replied, rolling his eyes sarcastically.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, little man,” she snarled at him in a half-giggle.

Somehow even with her eyes closed, the Bird knew what he was doing. Though this could be unsettling to most, this had always just been a common occurrence, one that Talion had unwittingly come to love. Something about her being able to predict and call him out on every little thing made him feel more secure in a way.

“I wasn’t,” he protested, not really attempting any sense of seriousness.

“I’m sure you weren’t,” she replied with a smirk, not opening her eyes.

The barmaid, along with another maid, approached the table with their tankards and two bowls filled with hot stew. Talion’s mouth watered uncontrollably, as he let his legs drop from the table, and leaned forward toward the stew. Like a mirror, Tauriel mimicked his exact movements, and as if on queue, the two of them lifted the bowls to their lips and began to devour the savory mixture of broth, meat and vegetable.

“You’re a bad lair, Li,” Re spoke, taking a break from her stew to sip her mead. Her eyes stared at him tauntingly, with an eyebrow raised at him as if waiting for a response.

Talion returned with eye contact, then rolled his eyes deliberately at her as he lifted his tankard to his lips for a gulp himself. As he swallowed he couldn’t help but let out a short giggle as Tauriel’s eyes turned to a glare. Then again, they both resumed to the stew in front of them.

Like the perfect equation, as their soup bowls became empty, so did their tankards. Talion’s body grew warm with comfort, and his muscles began to slow as he felt fatigue set in. Looking to his partner, he could see that she was in the same boat as he, if not more so.

“Shall we?” Talion spoke under a gentle yawn, looking to the Bird as she nodded, yawning in response. “Miss? I’d like a room please.”

The barmaid hurried back over to their table with a smile, “Absolutely my friend, that’ll be 10 septims, you two can have the room on the left.”

Talion smiled, and pulled his coin purse from his pack once again, counting the required pieces out for her. “Could you also wake us when our altmer friend there wakes?”

The woman nodded politely, and turned away, leaving the duo to walk themselves to their beds. Talion stood up, which to his surprise, took a surprising amount of effort. He let his arms raise above his head as he reached out with a stretch, and another yawn escaped his mouth. Sleep you seduce me.

The Bear tugged his partner up from her seated position, and gathered both their packs from the floor beside them, and his over-sized tankard. Re let out a long, deep yawn, and rolled her neck to pop what seemed like a dozen times. Without any guidance, she pulled his arm and him behind her as she worked her way around the tables and fire pit toward the room. Within seconds of entering, and shutting the door, the two were collapsed in each other’s arms on the bed of the small warm room. Sleep was upon them mere seconds after that, and the Bird and Bear would only wake at the call of the barmaid which with their luck wouldn’t come until dawn.

 

[Seanu Reaves]

Casil woke up early, Malus had decided after he went inside after cleaning his shoes. Buying a simple pie and wine to help him sleep. As the dark elf made his way to his room, he ate quickly. Not seeing any point in spending time in the empty common room. He tipped extra and kept up his positive exterior, grateful for the muffled sounds of the inn to lull him away in his mediation. As he laid down on the bed, he began to chant under his breath, locking his ankles together. As he began to sink deeper and deeper into the web, he crossed his wrists over his belly button. His muttering slowing down to become perfectly even breathing. Eight count to fill his lungs, eight count to completely empty them.

The assassin found himself within what he called The Chamber, it wasn’t Mephala’s realm, yet it seemed like a place for the assassin’s spirit to train while his physical body rested. Building his knowledge and grow. There were countless secrets within this place, yet only a small fraction was useful. Malus loved it here, countless books and scrolls detailing numerous techniques and concepts that could assist his various sanctioned killings. Some seemed innocent, like how to make sweet rolls that reminded one of their childhood, some as openly malicious as the means to brew effective poisons. Each had its place, and each was his venom to use. Like a spider, he crawled along the structures that stored the knowledge he craved.

 

[thatguy2]

Casil woke up early, Malus had decided after he went inside after cleaning his shoes. Buying a simple pie and wine to help him sleep. As the dark elf made his way to his room, he ate quickly. Not seeing any point in spending time in the empty common room. He tipped extra and kept up his positive exterior, grateful for the muffled sounds of the inn to lull him away in his mediation. As he laid down on the bed, he began to chant under his breath, locking his ankles together. As he began to sink deeper and deeper into the web, he crossed his wrists over his belly button. His muttering slowing down to become perfectly even breathing. Eight count to fill his lungs, eight count to completely empty them.

The assassin found himself within what he called The Chamber, it wasn’t Mephala’s realm, yet it seemed like a place for the assassin’s spirit to train while his physical body rested. Building his knowledge and grow. There were countless secrets within this place, yet only a small fraction was useful. Malus loved it here, countless books and scrolls detailing numerous techniques and concepts that could assist his various sanctioned killings. Some seemed innocent, like how to make sweet rolls that reminded one of their childhood, some as openly malicious as the means to brew effective poisons. Each had its place, and each was his venom to use. Like a spider, he crawled along the structures that stored the knowledge he craved.

Rolf and Ulfric went up to the innkeep. Ulfric placed several septims down on the tavern bar, ordering pie and Mead for both of them. After they finished eating, they went to their bed to try and sleep.

Sent from my Nexus 6 using Tapatalk

 

[Wauten Dayhil]

Phantoms rushed at Vastatya from all directions, shadows of unseen monsters and ghosts of her past, the silence thunderous to her ears. Her Lord spoke to Vastatya, images taking the place of words, emotions and feelings thrust at her mind to make Vastatya grasp their meaning.

A sword, followed quickly by a bird.

A matching pair of blood-stained rings.

A book, pages void of writing, but malevolent all the same.

More images flashed by, until it became a blur in Vastatya's mind. A swirling cacophony of anguish, pleasure, and unrelenting hunger pressured her, making it hard to breathe. A pulse ran through her dream-self. Echoing from all directions, emitted from everywhere and nowhere at once. Another pulse. Another.

Faster and faster, until it felt as if the very essence of Vastatya's dream-self was being used as an ethereal drum. She cried out, but made no sound, as she suffocated in a relentless avalanche of hate-tinged fear.

And then she was awake, sitting bolt-upright in her chair by the fire - kept burning throughout the night thanks to the innkeeper - sweat pouring down her face. It had been nearly a century since she'd felt such an ominous expression from her Lord Vaermina. To feel it now, and as powerfully as she did, was far beyond troubling.

The Altmer took a few shaky breaths, steadying herself in the chair, before she looked about. The others appeared to still be in their rooms, as she saw no one out and about. Rising from the chair, Vastatya made her way to the inn's door to peek outside.

Dawn's rays shone out over Morthal's rooftops, golden beams as bright as the birds' cheerful singing. The chirps and warbles rang hollow in Vastatya's ears, though. Their high spirits contrasted with the darkness she imagined would be upon them in the coming days.

And Vaermina has been getting more and more cryptic these past few decades, the Altmer thought to herself, closing the door and making her way to the inn's bedrooms. She knocked on each, loudly, to wake the occupants of each, before returning to her seat, waiting for her party to gather so they could be on their way.