18+ Into The Dark [Game Thread]

Pressing both palms to the door before her, Annalisse Warren gave pause.
Listening carefully, she heard neither footsteps nor speech. Her Lord was alone, for now at least.

Carefully, she pushed the wooden door forward, the well-oiled hinges barely made a squeak as she slid past.
The dimly lit interior smelled faintly of blood and dirt, the scent was poorly masked beneath the stronger odor of cleaning chemicals.
For all it was worth, her Lord certainly kept his playing grounds... tidy.

Large, open and spacious, the central room of her Lord's lair always put Annalisse on edge. There were never any good places to hide and she always felt as if his eyes followed her, even when he was nowhere to be found.
Round and windowless but with a high peaked roof, the room bowed inward, often making visitors feel as if they were slowly being crushed by the intrusive space.
The walls were covered with dark blue velvet, her Lord's favourite shade. Occasionally, an unseen breeze would ruffle the fabric, causing it to pull away from the walls and reveal tall, floor to ceiling-high mirrors. Annalisse could not count the number of times she'd seen herself in those mirrors...
nor the number of times she'd seen someone else behind her, when there was no one to be found.

A soft cough drew her attention and soon Annalisse was at her mothers side.
Chained to a far wall, like a decoration for the otherwise well-kept room, Hazel Warren sat, crumpled and weak, but thank the divines, still alive.
"Mother!" Falling to her knees, Annalisse hastily drew a vial of clear water from her pack, twisting off the cap and offering the liquid to her mother.
The tired looking woman took barely a sip before turning her head in disgust,
"No, Anna. Let me die. Let me rot here in this cell and claim your freedom. Run from him. Run from this monster, like your brother did. Smart boy. My smart, brave boy..." Delirious, the weakened woman started to daze off, losing herself in her own memories.
"I won't do that. I won't leave you! Not until you're safe from hi--"
"I'll never be safe, Anna." Finding herself for a moment, Hazel's eyes locked with her daughters, one hand reaching out to hold Annalisse's shoulder with a weak grip,
"It's too late for me. You know this, Anna. You have to--"

“Is that a little bird, I hear?” A voice called out, one that made Annalisse shiver in a mixture of fear and disgust. She would not keep him waiting. It never did end well.

"Anna, don't go to him! Anna, please!"
"You don't understand. It's the only way." Giving her mothers hands a squeeze before gently prying them off of her, Annalisse rose, moving towards the center of the round room, where her Lord, ever the silent host, awaited her.

"My pretty, little bird. Sing me the songs of the wind."


Wasting no time at all, Annalisse spoke, divulging what information she had procured in her time abroad.
“Our brothers stationed near Markarth have become too bold in their feeding habits. They've turned too many. The people have begun to talk. Wolves, they think, occupy the cave three quarters of a mile outside the city limits, My Lord.”

“And?”

“In Markarth, there has been much footraffic through the Jarls hall as of late, adventurers from the look of it."

Pausing, the girl took a moment to retrieve a small folded bit of faded, yellowed parchment from her bag.

"I obtained a copy of this summons, proving that the Jarl intends to send a group of hired hands to the cave, to exterminate whatever lies within."
Offering the slip of parchment, Annalisse felt nearly nothing as the dark haired vampire before her merely glanced at it, his expression hinged on boredom.

“I see. Foolish of them to feed as often as they did. Though if my memory serves me, they were not the brightest to begin with. This is not a surprise.”

“Shall I return to Markarth and send our brothers warning, your grace?”

“No.”

A look of surprise registered on the young girls face, hesitantly, she began to protest,
“Th-the group may be small, as the Jarl has not offered a large sum, but with the element of surprise on their side, our brothers will fall, My Lord.”

With hardly any effort, the vampire raised his right palm, bringing the backside of it down sharply across the girls cheek, causing her to wince noticeably with pain but otherwise not make a sound. Tears stung in her eyes but she did not dare blink them away. He liked it far too much when she cried.

“I am aware of this, little bird. Do you take me for a fool?”
“No, my lord.”
“Their deaths will serve as a warning to the others. We are not in such dire need of blood brothers that we would mourn the loss of such fools. Let the Jarls men be hero’s. It will be fleeting nonetheless.”

“As you wish, My Lord.” Annalisse felt her heart sink for a moment, but did not dare let it show. There were people in that cave, people she knew. People she cared for. Sure, the majority of them were vampires, and as far as she was concerned they were on the wrong side of the coven but... deep down she had hoped that someday things could be different.
Now that day would never come.

“Follow the travelers. Gather information, my little bird. Tell me what they know. And do be sure to describe the way our brothers beg for mercy as they meet their grusome ends. You'd be amazed how many gods a sinner can list when he's at the wrong end of a blade. And you know just how happy that makes me, don't you, my little bird?”

"Of course, your grace."

"Good. Now be off, lots of information to gather and I find I rather bore of you when you aren't screaming."

“As your will commands, so shall it be done, My Lord.”
With a low sweeping bow, Annalisse lingered in place just long enough to appease her Lord before fleeing off into the darkness, en route to the city of Markarth once more.

After her fellow Altmer took his seat, a server brought a plate bearing a single sweet roll, and a mug of mead. Senya raised an eyebrow at the odd choices, but said nothing. She did agree with his deduction that not many Altmer would choose Skyrim as a place to visit casually. Senya had barely been here two weeks, and already she longed for the warmth of Alinor. And the sea. Perhaps, of all the things she missed the most, it was the warm waters of the sea. Here, off the coast of Skyrim, one would freeze to death in an instant if they were to go swimming.

She didn't recognize the name, but she smiled politely anyways. "A pleasure to meet you. I am Senya Stormwind. From Skywatch" the door opened again, revealing a rugged looking Nordic man. He took in those already seated, then took his own seat at an empty table. She turned to the other elf. "Tell me, Viverac. Are Skyrim taverns always so crowded and...loud?"

Ghost grew tired of the nagging nobles. "I'm rather appalled at how you handles those bandits Bryce." The big bellied man said. "My poor wife did not need to witness that bloodshed." The man in furry rich mans cloth had a voice that attacked Bryce's eardrums. "Would you rather I let him kill you and fl*ff your wife?" The man fell silent. What the hell do they think they're paying me for? Bryce asked himself. The vulnerable lady scrambled her way to Bryce's side. "I have a grandson named Bryce, charming fellow, he did not cuss and swear at his elders! Now Bryce Cellini, he was a famous musician you know! Had quite the following in Solitude and the Imperial City, you'd do well to take a note from his book." It was at this point, Bryce thought, his true name will remain a secret. The healthy old lady continued to ramble for the next few hours until they arrived at Markarth without further incident. Bryce detests working with nobles.

As they got to the gates Bryce received his payment, his contract was completed. Bryce waited by the stables, enjoying the solitude and fresh air before heading into the city. The guards stopped him and asked what his business was in the city. "Just completed a mercenary contract for that fat sot and his whiny wife, now if you'll excuse me I'd like to head to the tavern and drink and crash before heading out in the morning, I didn't ask to take your bloody survey." Ghost pushed forth into the city, he couldn't see the guards faces beneath the helmets but he could imagine how baffled they were. Bryce had been forced to suffer an incredibly painful trip with the rich and elderly mouthing off at him, he wanted to be alone. He drank his misery up at the bar, his misery and anger quickly fleeing him. Bryce didn't often drink and so he had to be careful of how much alcohol he consumed, he had a low tolerance. There was all sorts of characters in this tavern, a little red headed girl being one of them. Such red hair was a rare sight, but he quickly dismissed it.

"Look at you!" A familiar, dreaded, painful voice hollered in his ear. "Using your pay to drink away your sorrows! Life will never get better you know, not if you treat it like this. You need to invest in a small business, they are the future you know! I hear, that most shops in the Imperial City-" Ghost slowly turned his head to the woman and through gritted teeth told her to be quiet. "started off as small businesses. Don't you dare tell me to be quiet! How disrespectful. I am appalled, we spent days together and the most respect you give to me is shushing me like I am some nuisance? Your serviced won't be required again, we are taking our business elsewhere next time." The wealthy lady then left, leaving Bryce just as irritated as he was before. On the bright side, when they had hired him and he asked them to make him an offer they offered to pay 3 times the usual fee. He accepted. Ghost had removed his mask outside the city, it felt courteous and peaceful.

When the old man from earlier sat by Bryce he immediately stood up and walked away. He sat by some mer, who were likely too snobby to consider him worthy of being within 10 ft of them. Bryce had only had negative experience with elves. "Do you know them two?" The bartender asked, gesturing to the recently arrived nobles. "I'm afraid I do, I escorted them here from Solitude and they won't leave me alone. They keep rambling about some distant relative that shares my name." He explained.
"Ah, I noticed. Can I get you another drink?"
"Afraid not, I'm done for the night."
"Something to eat?"
After declining, the bartender left him. Bryce hadn't made it obvious, but when he stood up to walk further down the bar he scanned the room. Many people in here were ready for travel, despite this being a tavern it seemed too much. He grew suspicious, but began drifting into his own thoughts. While he remained conscious, his subconsciousness was elsewhere. He began to daydream of killing and while he didn't realize it, he pulled a very concentrated face as he did so, almost angry.

Veridas Ashheart leaned against the cool stone wall of the covens main base. His arms were crossed, one hand resting on his dagger, the other on his saber. Though he looked at ease, he watched the vampires going about their business vigilantly. The vampires shot him looks ranging from annoyed to curious. He knew they didn't know what to make of him. He hadn't joined their little group for power. Nor glory, nor to become a blood sucker like them.

No, he was there for two reasons. Coin, and protection. Not protection from any mortal men. An assassin of Veridas' skill could take on any living man, and come out the victor. Months of living among vampires had honed his skill until he'd could match many vampires blade to blade. Unfortunately, betraying said vampires had rather unexpected consequences. When he'd worked for the Bloodlet Throne, he'd been treated as little more than an irritant. When he'd seen his chance, out on a job at Riften, where he'd thought he was well out of range of Salthar and his damned, arrogant, followers, he'd made his move. He'd contacted members of the reclusive, ancient Dawnguard, and alerted them that Salthar and his entourage would be travelling to Markarth for some business.

He'd watched the vampire hunters conduct their attack. And watched as the vampires cut them down like farmers cutting down wheat. He had no idea how Salthar had discovered Veridas was behind the attack. But he had. He'd been in Riften when a team of vampire assassins came after him. So he'd done the only thing he could. He'd fled. Spending a goodly amount of coin as he did so. Ending up under the 'protection' of this particular coven. They weren't much better, but at least he didn't have to worry about being cut down because he'd said or done something wrong.

Currently, he was awaiting outside the lords room. According to a 'lesser' vamp, he was speaking to one of his spies. He didn't know what the conversation was about, and didn't particularly give a damn. He wasn't being paid to eavesdrop. He was paid to do what he was told. A few moments later, the spy, a young elf, that he hadn't had a chance to speak with. Once he was sure she'd left, he stepped inside, taking in the décor. It was covered in dark blue velvet. A contrast to the midnight black and crimson red of the Bloodlet Thrones colours. "I see you've got your spies running errands...my lord." The words did not come naturally to him. "Have you got a job for me?"

He didn't trust the vampire not to have him killed, but he had little choice. And it was likely that they'd give him some sort of warning if Salthar coven came knocking. And if the two vampire groups got into some sort of conflict...well, Veridas would be more than ready to get his revenge. He owed the Bloodlet Throne coven a little payback.

Ardus sighed. The older man's reply was hardly what he'd wanted to hear. He would have thought that, being a soldier, he'd have known about local bounties. He gave them a tight lipped smile. "You know, I almost wish you were lying" he stood, and nodded. "You folks have a nice evening." He left their table, cursing his ill luck. He didn't want to be stuck in Markarth for much longer. The jobs in the city were pretty much nothing. Except for one, which seemed to have drawn in every mage, assassin and warrior in the past sixteen kilometres away. Back at his seat at the bar, Ardus looked around. A pair of elves sat at one table, and a couple of what looked like thieves sitting in the common room. The place was definitely getting crowded.

He swirled what was left of his mead while looking around with a raised eyebrow. A couple new faces at appeared; two High Elves, an Imperial, an old man and his daughter, assumingly. The two were wearing blue. Stormcloak blue. That's what he needs two Stormcloaks in the same room with him. Bad enough that a high elf walks in with the most odd looking attire and a hat that can fan a hearth fire. He didn't like this. We're they here for the bounty? Do hey assume it's not just a pack of wolves? At this point he didn't care. At least he wasn't in his service armor. It would have gotten bloody real fast. He couldn't help but stare at the young Stormcloak. Age shouldn't be wasted in war, like he did so. Glory and honor doesn't save dead men. It doesn't bring them back or protect them from an arrow or sword. These things cross his mind at times like this.

There's a lot of people here for a simple cave run. What's really going on? You have Altmer at a tavern frequented by the "northern savages" like me AND two stormcloaks. Not a very good choice. No one is here for the beds, that's obvious. Who in the hells would put stone beds? I don't care if it's the city of stone. I would rather sleep in snow. No matter," he sat back in his chair to observe the new people to see if any of them would delve into why they were here. One could learn so much just by listening and watching. Before too long the tall Imperial walked towards the stormcloaks and began to discuss amongst themselves. He unsheathed a small knife from his belt and began to clean his nails with it, not thinking what it may look like. He didn't want to go just yet. After all he just got there. He proceeded to order more food and drink, and wait until someone got up and answered his questions.

Meanwhile a wagon pulled up to the stables outside Markarth "we're here" declared the driver as a hooded man with a long cloak stood up and underarm threw a small bag of gold at the driver before he jumped off and walked up the steps towards the door. "Stop there, What business do you have in Markarth?" the guard said holding up a torch "[speech] Official companion business I will need to speak with The Jarl in the morning" he said pulling out a small badge with a wolf head on it which he then clipped on to his cloak "Go on in but stay out of trouble." said the guard John nodding walking on through the giant door.

After he crossed the empty marketplace he entered the inn it was quite packed, there was a group of men by the fire, a man playing a lute, a Breton woman sat at the bar who was watching another woman and a little girl, an Imperial who were all spread about the inn. after scanning the room he then walked over the bar, sat down as he pulled his cowl down and ordered a meal "Hoker stew and a pint of mead" he said to the bartender who grunted a little and nodded before grabbing a pint, filling it with mead and setting it in front of him "Thank you" he said as the bartender ordered a woman to make some stew and to be quick about it.

"Loud? Yes. Crowded? Depends, as far as I can tell, truthfully I don't frequent places like this," Viverac gestures to his robes. "For obvious reasons. I am surprised we haven't been accosted by a drunken Nord."

The high elf smirked at the thought. Nord's dislike of magic is based off a certain respect for it. He had to wonder though, how was this adventure going to progress. He looked at his floppy hat sitting in his lap. The Thalmor reports have been becoming less frequent. Likely meaning squads had been hit on route. There was a very real reason Viverac had interest in the possible cause of these disappearances.

"So if I may be so bold, what is your business in Skyrim? I haven't gotten word of a new arrival... Well my friend hasn't."

Viverac took a sip of mead. glancing over the many new faces in the Tavern. He settled on the two women he followed from the keep. Wonder why the young one is so determined, he mused. Wonder how many have something left to prove to themselves and to others.

Viverac replied that most taverns were indeed as loud as this one, and then proceeded to tell her he was surprised that they hadn't been confronted by a drunken Nord. 'I guess the Nords really are as bad as everyone says' she surmised. There were a lot of Nords in the tavern, and though some were shooting the pair of Altmer distrustful looks, no one was approaching them. Perhaps her little display of magic hadn't been the wisest idea. She was here to find her sister, not have a horde of angry Stormcloaks, or just Nords in general coming after her.

Then the other elf asked the question she'd been expecting since he'd sat at her table. Most Thalmor agents were naturally curious, and some honed that curiosity until they'd become adept at detecting lies. And luring their 'conversational partners' into revealing things they really shouldn't. But she doubted she was in any real danger. Her mission, though personal, was approved by her commanding officers. Still, she wasn't about to reveal any names. "I'm looking for someone. Not something that would get the attention of your...friend."

More people started to come into the inn. Erebus, finally content and relaxed, looked around and observed his surroundings. The inn, like the rest of the city, was almost completely made of stone. Erebus was always fascinated with the Dwemer along with their mysterious disappearance. He had heard that in Markarth there was an Altmer name Calcelmo who was all over everything that had to do with the long gone race. Personally Erebus wanted to go to Markarth first, but knew his sister wanted to go to Whiterun, home of the Companions. Maybe Erebus could visit the elf...

Looking around some more he saw two Altmer talking. Well, talking lowly that is. Narrowing his eyes at them he quickly looked away after a few seconds. He didn't want any trouble. Turning his head he also saw a man sitting at a table, talking to a man and what appeared to be his daughter. 'Well, I think she is his daughter... Don't assume Erebus, Father said not to, it's a mark of a fool'..

The 'father' looked a bit irritated. The thief tried to read all three of their body movements but it was hard to read the well armored man. His daughter was slightly easier, but not by much. 'Hmm..'

Trying to listen in on the conversation was rather difficult with all the noise in the inn. Still, it could be louder considering what the time of day was. Suddenly the man that engaged the conversation stood up and walked away from their table before turning around and looking at the occupants of the inn. Erebus quickly moved his head toward the fire, not wanting to be caught.

"Seriously, you're as skittish as a small stray dog. What's eating you?" Isabella said tiredly.

"Unlike you," her brother said in a low and quiet tone, "I like looking at my surroundings. And not getting caught."

"What does it matter if you get caught? It's not like they're going to do anything, maybe throw a few nasty looks but they're not going to pummel you."

"So says the girl that can get whatever she wants and not get caught." the brother growled out, referring to what happened outside of the gates.

"Man... You're rather grouchy. What's stuck up your ass?"

"I'm just tired."

"Then sleep."

Sighing in annoyance he looked at his sister. "You're far more tired than I am. And I need to keep watch."

Both by now had finished their soup. Erebus ate his soup in a calm and relaxed manner while his sister.... More or less inhaled it. "Seriously, for a lady, you sure can eat in no time flat." The brother was amused at her table manners. She always seemed to overly enjoy her food. She was often more quiet than he was when she ate, completely devoting her time and energy to worship her food. But this was something else...

Throwing a glare she retorted, "I like food, I was hungry. Deal with it. Besides, you finished a little later than I did. Pig. And I'm not a lady."

"You're right, you're not one because unlike you, I didn't suck it all down in one gulp."

They fell silent. Isabella shooting a glare at him, and Erebus daring to show a light smirk. Without a word he opened his left arm and she fell into him, exhausted. "Just sleep for a bit. I doubt we're going anywhere for a while." He had no idea what to do next. Probably ask around what the job was obviously, but what to do from there? Go to the Jarl? He'd probably just tell him to gather a party and do the job. But who was the leader of said party?

"Hey, Erebus?"

"Hey, yourself."

Growling in annoyance she let out a suggestion to her brother, "What about a mercenary?"

Raising a brow he looked down at her. "What?"

"A mercenary. Y'know, hired people that guard or kill stuff."

"I know what a mercenary is, Bella."

Rolling her eyes, the young woman explained, "Think about it. With a mercenary people will think we're travelers. Not... Y'know." She whispered, worried about eavesdroppers. "Besides, no one would think that... Borrowers would hire a mercenary." Erebus chuckled at the word borrowers. It was true, they were both borrowers. They just didn't give the items back.

"You know... I think that's the first real good idea you have had in a while. Ouch! Hey!" Erebus rubbed his chest and made a mock pout. His sister slapped him in the chest for the light insult. "Hey, least I come up with some ideas and share them with her sibling." Feigning hurt, her brother covered his heart and pouted, "Me? I share my ideas! I share them with--Oh." She was no doubt talking about the trip and having no idea the 'adventure' was happening until they were leaving in less than a few minutes. Isabella was less than pleased with her brother on the surprise trip they were taking with no notice whatsoever.

"Alright! Alright. I'm sorry. I knew you wouldn't agree with it though. It was like dragging a mule to get you to come along!" After throwing another glare at him, Isabella finally closed her eyes and tried to sleep. Smiling softly, Erebus muttered, "Sleep well."

'Mercenary huh? Hm... That might work. Just need to find out where to get one. Besides, we need a guide anyway to get us around this frozen tundra. Right now though, I need to relax.'

Erebus held his sister while she napped, all the while staring into the fire and coming up with various ideas on how their trip would play out.

The chamber was ,windowless,dark, save for a few torches scattered throughout the circular room. The flickering torch light revealed instruments that wouldn't typically be found outside a dungeon. Hooks, blades straps, chains, and metal wire, among other things. At one end of the room, was a bed. Not a torture bed, but a plainly adorned bed, wooden frame, with a comfortable mattress. A small end table stood beside it, a fine crystal goblet standing on top of it.

In the centre of the room stood a woman. She was tall, slender, with long blonde hair, so pale it was almost white. Currently, it was bound in a long ponytail that descended past her shoulder blades. She wore a blue silk dress, that hugged her form. On the other side of the room, was a man strapped to a wooden frame. Thick leather belts around his upper chest, arms, midsection and legs, held him for the most part, immobile.

He was stripped naked from the waist up. Most of the exposed flesh was covered in burns, cuts, and bruises. He'd been in the chamber for the better part of two days. He'd been on his way to his master, someone in one of the holds. Whom he stubbornly refused to identify. It was infuriating, really. The mans' torturer was named Nerissa Whitetide, and she was an Altmer vampire. She was also, an excellent interrogator. Years working under Thalmor inquisitors had honed her skills, and her centuries had allowed her to find a whole bunch of interesting ways to break people.

This one, the Nord, was stubborn. She'd met plenty of his kind, but never one this determined to keep his mouth shut. They usually broke by the end of the first day. She turned from the center of the room to the man. "All this could be over" she whispered gently in his ear. "Just tell me what I want to know" the man opened the one eye that wasn't swollen shut.

"You'll...have...to...kill me...witch!" he worked up what little saliva he had left, and spat it in her direction. It missed of course, but it was still very...rude. She stood up abruptly and sneered at him. "Oh, don't be so boring " she drawled. "Is your master really worth dying for?"

The man snorted. "Better...than...betraying my people!" He rasped. "At least I'll have my honour" Nerissa snarled. On impulse, her arm shot out and tore the mans throat out. The Nord gasped, once, and then went still. Staring at the scraps of flesh, muscle, and windpipe in her hand, she cocked an eyebrow. "Whoops" well, now the Nord wouldn't be spitting at anybody. She dropped the flesh, and wiped her hand absently on the mans pants.

"Just...stay there for now" she muttered to the corpse. "I'll be back in a little bit" she stepped outside of the chamber, wondering what she was going to say to her lady. Nerissa tended to get a little...excited, when interrogating prisoners. The former servant was now the third corpse of the week. She climbed the stairs, straightening her dress as she did so. When she'd reached the throne room, she shoved open one of the doors. "My lady." She performed a short curtsy, "no luck with the servant downstairs. I think we're going to need to be a little more...persuasive, if we want to find out who the big players around here are"

The fact that Baroth had so many unanswered questions was only downplayed by the fact that he had so few reliable answers. Take the odd number of patrons in the bar for instance. It was painfully obvious they were all (or most) here for the issued bounty of what....a cave of animals? Wolves could be another possibility, but why are they that big of a danger?

He could simply leave his room now and go around the tavern, asking each and everyone of them why they were here. But one, they would all either instantly grow suspicious or simply dish out well-played lies. Or two, they'd question HIM and, in one or two cases, they'd most likely attack him. But so many there were.

And that lead to another thing.

If you simply need a cave of rough-hided wolves dealt with, why issue a bounty? And even at that, why would so many answer the call? Assassins was a sure sight in the tavern, along with warriors, maybe a few mages, two stormcloaks, and....thieves? But that was just an assumption going off of their armor, the spots they chose, and what they did upon his arrival. But thieves?

And a stormcloak? Has the reach gotten that bad, or has this 'cave job' attracted the attention of high individuals?

The man was old enough to command an army, if not legions. The girl next to him, however, could most likely command a small unit of soldiers, though she hardly looked the legionary type.

But why would thieves be here? Just stopping through or have they too heard of this odd request? One Baroth wouldn't have minded, but two? And twins at that.

Or most importantly, why had Baroth personally been sent a parchment? Did this mean the other had received one as well? No. Some looked like they just heard rumor or read an issue to find the cave out.

What the hell was going on?

As his mind pondered silently for answers, the golden door to his room creaked open as Kleppr's wife, Fribba, walked in carrying a steaming wooden bowl with a wooden spoon buried in a mixture of rice with slices of sausage and a biscuit, all on top of a thick napkin, and in the other hand, a tall, sweating tankard of ale. She carefully set down the bowl in Baroth's hand, and set the tankard on the close dresser to his left, then extended a hand that demanded payment.

"That'll be fifteen septims."

Baroth nodded and reached into his knapsack, opening a coinpurse and feeling out fifteen coins, before handing them to Frabbi, who gladfully took them before leaving the room. And no sooner had she left, had Baroth begun to hound his rice mix to no end, quickly and quietly finishing off the food in mere minutes. He took a few more to respite from a term he'd come to know as 'Itus', before getting up, grabbing all the silverware (or woodware), and heading out towards the main room.

He wore a light tan dress tunic (torso) with long sleeves of elastic fiber he'd rolled up, the collar of the shirt itself implementing an outline that followed the shallow V-neck of his collar. His pants were a deep oak, lightly bagged and laced up from crotch to waist with ties of string. On his feet, he wore open toe hide-sandals that fit him comfortably and, for the longest time he could remember, never seemed to wear down to the sole.

Striding up to the right side of the square U-shaped counter, Baroth set down the ware on the bar-top, as Kleppr nodded thankfully and immediately tossed them to his wife, demanding she do them as he cleaned the counter and served the customers. She disagreed and they were at it again. Baroth turned away and took this time to walk around to the side of the counter that was facing the door, where the familiar looking stormcloak and girl were enjoying their meals. God could he feel names coming on.

As he moved he could almost feel the eyes of some of the patrons. Sizing him up. Trying to figure him out. Too bad for them, Baroth thought, I did that twice over already.

Then he allowed his mind to drift among the two he was approaching; he pondered their names, or how he even knew them.

The girl must be...Ally?...Ashwell?...Amy?.....No...Gah...They both look so familiar...S..Simon?....Silakvar?...Siii...Damnit!....It's right there...., Baroth thought, It's right there...

But before Baroth could reach them to inquire their familiar orientation, he heard the rambles of various voices outside the inn, cursing and yelling proudly, before a group miners came stumbling into the inn, some mumbling and others singing and making rather loud jokes.

Baroth was hit with a thick cloud of mead and vodka that almost gave him a headache.

Lots of it.

"HEEYYYOOOOO-" One hiccupped lightly as he continued to stumble and trip forward, his eyes dead-set on the back of the stormcloak girl. And as soon as he reached her, his hand pudged against her clothed back, drawing a straight line down to her waist with a single index finger. "Sush a beutiful young lady....with sush a fat, old man. Hows abut we- Hic! find a place where real men-"

And no sooner had the man's finger even touched the young girl's back, had the older stormcloak gotten to his feet and instantly grabbed the hand, twisting it away.

His tone, Baroth could tell, was cold-dead serious. "...Can get their wrists broken? Because that's exactly where this conversation is gong. Why don't you and your friends leave my daughter alone and go home? You've all had too much to drink and a tumble down Markarth's steps can kill you."

"You wanna fight me pops?!" The lad yelled angrily, his drunken posture stiffening itself as best as it could to make himself seem more intimidating.

Baroth smirked inward when he heard 'pops' come out of the boy's mouth. Obviously, these men were hard workers, Miners who spent most of their weeks cramped in tunnels that threatened to collapse. A night off at the tavern was acceptable. Groping young girls and making a loud fuss, was not. Really, the men must've felt as if they owned Nirn by lease, having worked so hard, and could easily have their way. It was safe to say, they'd all gotten in far over their heads. Simus on his own was a killing-machine. Let alone Simus and Baroth in the same room.

In fact, the bastards had no idea who they were f***ing with.

Baroth would have pitied them, hadn't one of them did what happened next.

A hand shot out and gripped Simus' hair, shortly before that man's wrists were twisted and he was headbutted backwards. Baroth began to move forwards, tripping the man with his hands clasped to his bleeding nose, which caused his left temple to meet with a table's edge. Baroth froze when he saw another miner stick his hand out and grasp the young girl's right breast and squeeze it. His mind went blank only for a moment before a slug to the jaw sent the miner directly into Baroth's arms.

Anger swelled in Baroth as he choked out the drunk. He didn't release his death grip. Not until the man was fully unconscious.

One of his friends saw him being choked out by another old man and rushed over, blindly throwing a fist that was sure to connect to the man's forehead. Instead, he felt the momentum behind his fist stop suddenly as blur of a man caught it, standing and crushing it in his hand. Slowly. The lad screamed in horrific pain and crumbled to his knees before Baroth's knee connected with the bridge of his nose, breaking it and knocking the man onto his back, unconscious.

Baroth stood and set a small glance across the tavern, before looking back to Simus and the young girl, who's name still escaped his thoughts. The miners moved off as quick as they entered, dragging their limp friends as they went, the door closing with a silent clank! as they left.

Disgusted, Baroth turned his attention back to the girl, his face free of emotion all the while.

She lay in a balled up heap, crying her eyes out at what had just happened, Simus at her side doing his best to coax her. She was panicking, Baroth realized, panicking deeply and intensely as she writhed on the floor.

"Simus. Been a while, hasn't it?"

His words had no weight nor meaning towards Simus himself, as Baroth eyes remained fixed on her. And before Simus had said her name, Baroth had remembered it.

Alice....

"It's good to see you Baroth. Now if you don't step back Alice is going to throw up and pass out. And if she chokes on her own vomit I'm going to kill you." imus said serious as death, just as Fribba stormed over and demanded Baroth leave immediately. And Baroth didn't protest.

"Very well," He said, heading to his room to re-armor himself up and slip his shield over his left arm, heading out towards the exit, only to pause and look down at the two, as Simus tried to calm Alice down and only succeeded in holding her terror at bay. Concern had begun to boil in his chest and he felt as if he needed to help them, But he knew better. In a situation like this, what with all they'd been through, there was no one Alice needed more than her father.

Now Baroth suddenly remembered why he hadn't seen them in so long, why he'd left them be so many years ago.

His jaw clenched.

Concern was replaced with sorrow, which Baroth quickly stuffed at the end of his mind, and soon even that was overtaken with a silent rage as he calmly strode out of the inn without another word.

He heard enough of the insulting woman's speech to understand what she meant.

He didn't look back as the golden doors closed shut behind him.


(OOC: Hey, sorry if I may have scripted your characters a bit much, Simus. And if there are any problems with what I have posted, simply tell me and i'll correct ASAP)

As Erebus held his sister he shot a look over his shoulder at a sudden noise.

'Oh by the Gods mercy... That man is off his rocker. Last thing we need is a drunk.' The thief continued to look on all the while slowly placing his sister down. His face scrunched up at disgust at the display. Poor girl. Not doubt the father or relative was furious. Seconds later a behemoth of a man swooped in and put him in a strangle hold.

'Man, wouldn't want to get that guy mad.'

He slowly and carefully started walking over just in case he needed help. Fortunately it didn't come to that. Glancing around though, it turned out they had drawn attention and half the inn was staring. After making a threat or two at the classless drunk, the huge man dropped him. Disoriented and clasping his throat in pain, the drunk staggered out of the inn. 'Hope that bastard lays in his own piss.' He shook his head.

Unfortunately being chivalrous wasn't allowed, as the matron of the inn immediately told the girls rescuer to leave.

"Very well." The man stated. He disappeared into what was probably his room, before shortly coming out in full armor, shield on hand.

Erebus finally moved his feet. It wasn't fair to him. Why did that man have to pay punishment due to some drunk being an idiot and ruining a few patron's day?

"Hey!"

He stood in front of Frabbi, who seemed insulted someone would barge in front of her. "Hey, why should he have to leave? Is it against the law to help people? Huh?"

A few people were starting to look at them, but he didn't care. "Is it now against Inn rules to be chivalrous? What would that say about your service? Huh?"

A few feet away Isabella started to wake up. 'How the heck did I end up on the floor?' Looking around she saw her brother getting up in... Frabbi? 'Yeah, some stupid name that is..' She huffed in annoyance at her brother getting up in Frabbi's face.

Leaning over her, Erebus growled out, "If you really saw what happened you'd be nice about all this. But if being nice isn't your thing, maybe this'll help." He shoved a coin purse into her hands. "The last I checked though, unlike your husband over there, you watch after your guests. Or am I to assume you're just like your husband?" He whispered the last sentence. That seemed to do it, as she shoved the coin purse back into his hands and growled out. "Fine!" She pointed at the burly Nord that just left the building. "He can stay if he comes back." The woman grumbled. Turning back to the young man she hissed, "You have some nerve young man, speaking in such a way to your elders. After all this, this--"

"And you, madam, have some nerve to play victim after all this."

"Erebus..." Looking over he nearly jumped seeing Isabella right next to him, now tugging on his arm. "Come on. It's not worth it." Shooting a final glare at Frabbi he started to walk away with his twin.

"Go sit down, I'll be back."

"Ugh, don't do anything stupid! Again..." Nevertheless, Isabella resumed her spot by the fire. "Drama queen." She muttered under her breath, out of earshot. 'And I thought he was supposed to be the quiet one.'

Walking over to the table with the two people who the drunk decided to 'bother', Erebus took a seat next to them. "You alright?" He asked quietly.

(Because Erebus is just that nice, and a bit of a drama queen.)

"Miss Winter? The tavern has become rather... crowded. Is this customary?"
"Hell if I know. I don't normally do taverns. Too many drunks with too many hands."
A quizzical look settled on Lilumae's face, her brow furrowing with innocent inquiry,
"Having too many hands would certainly be cause for concern. Were these drunkards cursed by an evil sorcerer? Did you suggest that they seek guidance from the College of Winterhold? Surely such a rare predicament is a thing to be studied!"
"You'll understand what I just said said someday. Not today, but someday."
A look of devastation befell the small girl, hating nothing more than she hated not knowing things.
Noticing her sudden mood shift, the reluctant Breton tried to distract her,
"Hey, don't we have an announcement to make?"
"Yes!" The redhead seemed to brighten up then, looking to Winter expectantly in turn.
"Oh, me, huh? Alright, alright, fine. Let me get these milk-drinkers attention--"
"You probably shouldn't call them milk-drinkers, they won't--"
"Listen up, Snow-berries!"
"Or you could just go ahead and insult their manhood..." Lilumae sighed, covering her face with one hand and hoping that she didn't stand out too much. This Winter girl was certainly quite firey for someone with such a cold namesake.

"The Jarl of Markarth, as most of you may already know, is looking for a group of able-bodied men and women to take down some wolves. These supposed wolves are located in a cave a quarter of a day out from here. They've been attacking travelers on the road and ripping out throats with just their teeth. The people of Markarth are afraid. And they should be."The room seemed to shift its attention towards the lean black-haired Breton. Though her voice was barely above a whisper, her presence alone seemed to hold a crowd.

"Tomorrow, at dawn, I'm taking my sister here, Lilumae, and we're headed out to the Cave to exterminate these wolves." Gesturing to the small girl beside her only caused the shy redhead to blush a crimson shade and feel somewhat mortified.

'Her sister? They didn't look a thing alike! What was Winter thinking?!' Lilumae didn't say a word but shot Winter a warning glance when she thought no one was looking.

"If you want to make a bit of coin, or you want to do the right thing, you'll meet us at Markarths entrance come daybreak. The bigger our crew, the faster those wolves fall, the sooner we get paid. Your call, Milk-drinkers."

Without another word, Winter sat back down in her seat and motioned someone over to deliver her a drink. If she knew anything, she knew that money and honor were the two most common factors when trying to drive a man to fight for you. She'd mentioned both, so hopefully a few stupid hero's or a few greedy bastards would turn up.

"Ahem, thank you for your attention! Your cooperation is appreciated! Also, drinking milk is actually known to have positive effects on bone structure, studies say... Uh-Please have a lovely meal!" Lilumae stood up and tacked on her small piece of politeness before quickly returning to her seat and ordering a small bowl of stew to hide herself in.

The fellow Imperial walked off when Simus told him they didn't know anything about a bounty. This apparently wasn't what he wanted to hear and he was obviously disappointed but neither Stormcloak really cared. As Simus said, they were here for dinner and a quiet drink. Unfortunately, that was not to be the case.

Simus immediately recognized Baroth as he noticed the old knight examining them, looking like he wanted to talk to them but unsure of how to break the ice. Alice recognized them from their flight from Bruma over a year ago but couldn't remember his name. Before Baroth could walk over to them the heavy metal doors of the inn flew open and several drunk Nords, miners getting off from the night shift, loudly barged in. All of them were reeking of sweat, dust and what smelled like vodka.

"HEEYYYOOOOO-" One of them, a strong blonde haired lad of about 20 bellowed. He was an impressive 6 feet tall and looked like he could handle himself in a fight. Simus wasn't impressed and Alice wrinkled her nose at him. He hiccuped lightly as he stumbled forward towards Alice, and as soon as he reached her, his hand pudged against her back, drawing a straight line down to her waist with a single index finger and leaving a thin trail of sweat and grime down the back of her soft and spotless blue dress. Alice shivered as his repulsive touch electrified her spine. "Sush a beautiful young lady....with sush a fat, old man. Hows abut we- Hic! find a place where real men-"

Simus was up as soon as the boy touched Alice and grabbed his wrist before he could finish. Simus was a much stronger man than his age or appearance would suggest and his grip was like steel. He knew 12 separate ways to kill a man with his bare hands and was prepared to use any one of them when his daughter was in danger. "...Can get their wrists broken? Because that's exactly where this conversation is gong. Why don't you and your friends leave my daughter alone and go home? You've all had too much to drink and a tumble down Markarth's steps can kill you."

"You wanna fight me pops?!" The boy yelled at Simus. His friends were gathering round, closing in onto Alice. Her heart rate quickened and her breath became shorter. She was the center of attention in a group of stranger who could hurt her and she was scared. It reminded her far too much of the war and this man looked exactly like an imperial soldier who had thrown her to the ground and tried to stab her with her own knife just last week. Her most recent near-death experience in this pointless war. As Simus stared the boy down, daring him to make a move, one of the other men grabbed him by the hair to try and pull him away from their "conquest." He instantly turned around, grabbed the taller man by the wrists and headbutted him in the nose, breaking it with a soft snap. This took his attention away from Alice and the miner boy was furious.

"fluff you man! You did it now! C'mon baby, you're coming with us!" he yelled, grabbing Alice's right breast and squeezing it tightly. She was shocked and terrified. She grabbed his wrist with her leather gloved hand but there was no strength behind it. She was lost in his cruel face and all she could see was the soldier who tried to kill her...

An abandoned farmhouse. Their patrols clashed. The Stormcloaks were five strong, the Imperials six. One of Alice's men was killed with an arrow, shot in the throat when he was still ten feet from the front door. She led the charge in. The shooter and another soldier were killed in the assault but the remaining four charged up from the basement. Alice was knocked down. She fell down the basement steps. She dropped her sword. An Imperial soldier, a burly Nord runs downstairs. Alice shoots a flash of sparks at him but misses. He drops his sword in surprise. She tries to get up and roll away. He grabs her and pins her to the floor. She grabs her dagger, he grabs her wrist and twists it. He's on top of her. She drops her dagger. A death struggle ensues. She bits his hand, hard enough for blood to draw. He screams in pain, she in desperation as he grabs her hear, as if trying to rip it off. He pins her to the cold stone floor. She can't get up. He has her dagger, She struggles with all her might to stop its slow descent towards her chest but can't. She pleads with him. "Don't do this!" She screams. "You don't want to do this!" She doesn't hear her father come down, the man doesn't feel the sword through his back...

Alice felt complete terror. Her heart was racing, her breath desperate and gasping. Tears of fear ran down her face. Her vision blurred as she started to hyperventilate. She felt dizzy and nauseous. She felt like she was suffocating, like she was going to die. Simus slugged the miner in the jaw and he fell back into Baroth's crushing hold and subsequent takedown. Then he saw Alice and experienced a moment of terror himself. His poor little faerie was having a panic attack and he hesitated on what to do. This war had been an incredible strain upon her and she had to cover up all of it behind an officer's mask while in front of the men. She'd become increasingly violent in battle and increasingly depressed out of it. And she had barged into Simus' tent in the middle of the night spilling over with tears of guilt more than once. There was only so much he could do as her father. She needed help.

Then he remembers that he had seen this before, especially with new recruits. She needed space and rassurance. She needed to feel safe. Otherwise

"Simus. Been a while hasn't it?"

His voice was very serious. "It's good to see you Baroth. Now if you don't step back Alice is going to throw up and pass out. And if she chokes on her own vomit I'm going to kill you."

The situation wasn't quite that serious but the old soldier's point was made very clear. Alice's terror had only increased. She had tripped over her chair in an attempt to run and had curled up into a sitting ball on the floor, shaking and gasping for air. Simus rushed over to her, knelt down and gently took her gloved hands into his soft bare ones.

"Alice? Alice honey? Can you hear me?" He said softly.

"I...I can't breathe dad! I can't breathe! Everything's spinning and I feel like I'm gonna throw up! I feel like I'm gonna die! I don't wanna die!" She cried, tears of terror streaming down her face. She knew what she looked like despite her episode. She saw everyone looking at her. Frabbi and a thief-looking fellow were arguing. Baroth came down fully armed and she thought he was going to kill her. The entire tavern was silent besides her and all eyes were upon them. Now she was afraid she was going mad. "Everyone's looking at me! They think I'm insane! I'm not insane! I don't want to be insane!"

Simus kept holding Alice's hands and gently shushed her, never breaking eye contact. "Alice, listen to me. You're having what's called a panic attack. It happens with people who've seen what you and I have seen. You're not going mad and you're not chocking to death. You only feel that way because you're upset honey. You're dizzy and feel sick because you're breathing too fast. Your body's not getting enough air. I need you to slow down and take slow, deep breaths. Just slow your breathing honey. You're going to be okay."

Alice listened intently and slowed her breathing a little. Not much and she was still shaking and crying but she wasn't getting worse. It wasn't working. She still felt sick. She still felt like she was going mad but she trusted her dad. He would never lie to her. She held his hands and tried her best to breathe slowly but there were too many people around. Her breathing spiked when the thief looking fellow sat down next to her and she felt a fresh wave of terror.

"You alright?" He asked, trying to help but failing. Alice threw up in response, the bread and venison she just ate all coming up on the floor. She shook as she tried to hold herself up by her thin arms. Simus stood her back up, pulling her up by her hands, and steadied her. She clung to him and buried her face into his chest, trembling with fear.

"Step away." He said to the thief with a gaze of death. "Right now."

While Winter made her announcement Frabbi ran over and handed Simus a glass of water. Winter's loud introduction undermined Simus' efforts to calm down Alice, even though she got softer as she went along. "Come back to us little faerie. Come back to the world." He spoke softly. Simus had given Alice the endearment "little faerie" for the way she always darted to and fro as if she had wings and of how small she was. She had a long history of nightmares and terrors due to her visions and it always seemed to help when Simus held her and told her to come back. As if pulling her from her own mind.

"Loud." She whimpered. "It's getting loud in here." Just as scared now as when she started. "Quiet please, make it stop!"

Ardus glanced up at a commotion, to see a drunk harassing the imperial girl he'd just spoken with. One of the men had obviously pushed his luck a little too far. The old man was on his feet, headbutting the kid. The bounty hunter sighed and rolled his eyes. The miner was obviously an amateur. Everyone knew it was best to hit first, taunt later. The girl started having some sort of fit, and Ardus lost interest. What did capture his attention, however, was the black haired Breton woman standing, catching pretty much everyones attention.

She wasn't bad looking, as Bretons went. But Ardus was more intrigued by what she had to say, than anything else. She explained about the bounty, and when she and her 'sister' would be ready to head out. Ardus wasn't particularly happy about working with a group, but he'd, apparently, made the right call in coming into the tavern.

The sound of retching from behind caused him to chuckle. He almost laughed as the inn keep noticed the scene taking place and started cursing about girls who couldn't keep their food down. He rapped his knuckles against the bar, and motioned for the man to refill his glass. The prospect of coin had brought him into as much a good mood as he ever got these days.

As Alice descended into her own personal chaos, Winter paid her no mind, continuing her speech until she was done and not once pausing for concern over the girl panicking a few feet away.
When Winter was through, Lilumae leapt up, starting towards Alice to help, only to find herself rooted in place by Winters death grip on her arm.

"Leave them. An inn is no place for a sick girl. He should take her to a doctor. Or a cell."
"Winter! How can you say such a thing?! She needs help! I can heal her!" Lilumae cried out, her face twisting into that of agony. How could anyone be so cold?
"Help her? Heal her? I can guarantee that despite whatever it is you think you can do, Doctor Lil, this plops will still happen again. You can't help her. The old man can't help her. The only person who can change things is the girl that's currently convulsing on the floor like a lunatic."
"You have no idea what's even happ-"
"I've been through enough to have an idea, thank you very much, Oh Wisened One." Winter spat, a flicker of rage crossing her face before she managed to get a better hold on herself and push such feelings right back down to the depths from whence they came.
"Healing doesn't mean that the damage never existed, it means that it doesn't control your life anymore. She can't heal until whatever it is that's making her sob like a madman on the floor stops controlling her life. And not a second before then. Everything else is just band-aids."

Turning back to her drink, Winter waved her free hand dismissively, releasing Lilumae from her grip who instantly fled to Alice's side.
Winter proceeded to ignore the cries of the sobbing girl, resisting the urge to roll her eyes for added effect.
"I wonder if this town has a brothel. I hear Altmer are quite flexible." She murmured aloud, catching the look of a few surprised patrons, who hurriedly diverted their gaze when eyes met.

Pushing her way through the crowd and scolding them for being so nosy as she went, Lilumae darted in between Alice and Simus, hoping for once that her small stature would prevent the older man from shooing her away.
When Alice began to vomit, Lilumae wrinkled her nose in disgust but was not surprised.
"I know this probably seems very odd, but please let me try something? I've spent some time studying medicine and mediation. I think I might be able to help." She told Simus, hoping that she sounded as honest as her intent.

After waiting a moment for Alice to drink the water, Lilumae began to speak, using a very soft and steady voice.
"Hi. Your name is Alice, right? Hi, Alice. I'm Lilumae. Now, I know we're not friends, but I'd like to be. So let's just talk for a little bit, okay?" Lilumae gave Alice a moment of compsure before she went on,
"I know I mentioned it before, but, could you remind me? I'm terribly forgetful. What's your name? Can you tell me your name?"
"Alice." A quiet reply, but a good sign nonetheless.
"That right. Alice. Silly me, how could I not know? Alice. Well, that's a very pretty name, Alice. I wish I was an Alice, but alas, I'm not, you're the Alice! Now, can you tell me, where are we? What's the name of this city, do you know it's name?"
"....Markarth." Another quiet reply, but it was getting them somewhere for sure.
"That's right! Alice, you're so good at this. Oh and I'm just so forgetful! Alice, who's this fellow here? Can you tell me his name?"
Raising her head, Alice mumbled weakly, "Simus. My father, Simus." Looking to Simus for confirmation, he nodded curtly, agreeing with Alice's statement.
"Great job! That's right. You're Alice and you're in Markarth with your dad, Simus. So, Alice, do you think your dad, Simus, can take it from here?"
Another nod and Lilumae was certain that wherever the odd girl had done, she'd come back from now.

Taking a step back, Lilumae gave a short curtsey before returning to her table. "Let me know if there's anything else I can do."

Back at the table, Winter was found arm wrestling with another patron, who appeared to be on a losing streak.
"Lil, can you believe this milk-drinker? Lost 6 times and still wants a rematch. I think he likes losing." With that, she slammed his arm down again, making a great show of it all.
"Pay up, snow-berries." The man begrduginly tossed some gold coins at Winter who grinned and then shooed him away.
"Alright enough of that. Off you trot."
Winter counted the coins and then tucked them in her satchel, glancing at Lilumae with a smirk.
"Your smirking. What's so funny?"
"Every time I won, I'd lean down a little more, giving him a clear view at my cleavage. The more times he lost, the more goods he saw. I just won 30 gold pieces for being hot! I LOVE this town!"
Completely impervious to the serious scene that had just taken place, Winter appeared to be in a far better mood than when Lilumae had left her. Somehow, Lilumae wasn't really sure how she felt about that.

Doran Black-Brew looked outside the window of his study, his prison where all the troubles his business faced became real it seemed, into the swirling snows of Dawnstar. His eyes, glowing ever so faintly of orange, danced over his mahogany desk, and the numerous reports that covered it. From shifty partners to “delinquents,” business was rough for the old Nord. That was another three thousand gold lost, he knew he should have insisted on his own guards for the Redguard Caravan he contracted. At this rate, any non-Nord merchant was a liability at best. He knew he was going to get an ear full from his wife, Mira. She was still highly protective of her kinsmen, even with eternity ahead and humanity behind her. Doran mused at the thought, laughing just a little to himself.

Only Clavicus Vile would see it as a boon to give a man a wife, he laughed. And I get lucky enough to be chained to two very dangerous women. He sipped at some wine, and shuffled through all the papers on his desk. It may sound strange, this old Nordic vampire found himself starting to enjoy this paperwork, if only for the contrast it provided to his more violent past and the positive numbers it seemed to be producing asides from a caravan or two.

The door to his study slid open and he found himself facing his other wife, Lilith. Her long black hair shimmered ever so slightly in the sunlight. Multiple braids then braided together in a complex ponytail that danced down her back. She smiled at him and with a walk, best described as slithering, came up to his desk. She picked up some of the letters and manifests he hadn’t gotten to yet and sat on the corner of his desk.

“It appears someone has been performing mass turnings in Markharth.”

“Oh, that’s nice dear…” Doran said aimlessly, his eyes looking over a fabulous table noting how the production of weapons and armor for both sides of the Civil War had gone up since the ceasefire. That at least covers the cost of the caravans we are losing, he thought.

“You aren’t listening to me!” His Imperial wife said in a jarring screech, she reached over and tapped her husband’s face. “The Lord of the Coven, though displeased with this turn of events, wants to know how our own breeding program is fairing.”

“We have produced, twenty perfect men so far. The Pits are proving a good weaning ground.” Doran brushed off his wife’s hand. Though he was growing anxious, The Pits were his twisted version of the Imperial Arena he remembered from back home in Cyrrodiil. Good source of blood as well as potential Vampires.

“Honey, I know The Pits have been operational for only two years. But I doubt those are the kinds of numbers he wants to hear.”

“If I change the rules… Make it easier, don’t you think that will lead to more failures? He wanted an army of Vampires. I am going to make sure, if I produce an army. It will be filled with the strong, the clever, and the loyal. We don’t need some bloodthirsty feral vampires to just throw at the hold in masses.”

“He still hasn’t presented us with a timetable,” a soothing voice came from the hallway. Mira walked in with her own stacks of parchment. Her short silver hair and dark skin were a shocking contrast to Lilith. “I see my hearing served me well. We have this week’s reports from The Pits.”

Lilith set down her small handful of papers, and walked to Mira to get The Pits numbers. They exchanged curt glares for a second, but the animosity soon dissolved. They had been married to the same man for so long, the idea of having a rivalry was just exhausting. If only because of the early days in the contract they had taken offense to each other, and they say Bravil barely recovered. Mira walked over to the fireplace to poke around as Lilith gave it to Doran’s waiting hand.

“Looks like we have a new golden boy, Carcel from Riverwood.” Lilith hissed, her harsh voice never quite reaching tender levels.

“How are the patrons betting?” Doran said dancing over the numbers. Carcel had won five matches so far, his dagger making short work of other contenders. “He is a crafty one I see.”

“Yes very crafty, he is not a showboat,” Mira said. “Our patrons are growing tired of seeing him disappear into the shadows, and the other entertainer suddenly having a dagger come through their spine and out the throat. But, since they want to win money, they begrudgingly support him unless the challenger is particularly impressive.”

“I have an idea, M’lord,” Lilith said sarcastically. “If he is so unpopular for The Pits, why not add a new layer to our recruitment?”

“Oh?” Doran said leaning forward. Lilith simply smiled revealing her fangs. Doran was intrigued, and happy for anyway to expand the army, without lowering standards. “Tell me what we can do with our little sneak then.”

Just like that Annalisse was gone. Rothark allowed a sick smile to slice accross his face. Almost instantly, the door re-opened, a far less welcome face slithered inside Rothark's chambers. He did not despise Veridas as he did most beings, as much as he simply found the man to be untrustworthy. He was still unsure as to where his loyalties truly lied. "I see you've got your spies running errands... my Lord." He paused. something about the way he spoke, with a tinge of sarcasm, got right under Rothark's skin. "Have you got a job for me?" Rothark did have tasks that needed doing. And currently he was short on manpower. After a fast mental debate, he decided to let Veridas do his bidding.

"It seems you're in luck. I always have a job for someone of your particular... talents. It seems by little bird is all tied up, no doubt you saw her fleeing the nest as you entered. As for Miss Greyshade, only the Dread Lord himself could know where that one's gotten to. As for you... what would say to some mindless slaughter?" He paused for a reaction but didn't give enough time for a reply before the words came slithering back out of his throat. "There are certain... individuals, shall we say, that need to be dealt with. One of my many informants would have me believe that a man in Morthal is capable of ridding the body of the blood gift. I want you to see what he can do, what he knows, and then act accordingly." Rothark decided this time to give Rothark room for reply, before allowing him to leave the room.

He turned slowly to Annalisse's mother. "Such a sweet song my little bird sings, don't you agree? You must be so proud." The grin disappeared from Rothark's face, as Annalisse's mother hung her head in silence. "You will speak when spoken to." Still, her mother gave no reply. "Unluckily for you, I find the same goes for you as for your hatchling. I find I rather bore of you when you aren't screaming." Terror flashed through the woman's eyes, and Rothark smiled sadistically once more. "We'll have to change that."

The woman was scrambling now, kicking herself back into the wall as if she thought she would burst through it. She began pleading, begging, oblivious to the fact that this was exactly what Rothark craved. Atop a small stone table at the far end of the room, Rothark unrolled his favorite set of tools. He pondered for a moment. He had already taken the majority of these tools to here before, but there was one he was still desperate to try. "This will do nicely." Rothark grabbed a wooden handle, attached to the end of a long, barbed iron hook. He thrust it into the flames of a nearby brazier and giggled with delight as the metal began to glow.

She was crying now, the tears rolling down her cheeks and dropping harmlessly onto the floor. "Please... you don't have to... please..." She was on the edge. her misery and despair was written accross her face like ink on a page. Wordlessly, Rothark pushed the blunt of the hook onto the woman's skin. The burning metal hissed as it made contact, and the woman yelped and moaned. "That is not nearly a song sweet enough for my ears. Do you mean to offend me?" Rothark's eyes scanned her pale face without any trace or hint of mercy. "Of course you did. I will punish you for your ignorance." The end of the hook pierced the flesh over the woman's collarbone. Still burning, plunging deeper and deeper, the hook made its way down into her muscle, the barbs catching and tearing and ripping at everything they could clasp. Still, further and further it went, until Rothark could twist it around, and yanked. It hooked firmly around the the woman's collarbone. By now she was screaming, cursing every Divine and every Daedra that came to mind. "Yes... yes, cry, sing me a song." She screamed louder, wailing. But in the chamber, no one could hear her but Rothark. He lapped up the noise, tasting the sorrow and anguish that it carried.

"Such fun we have together, you and I. Wouldn't you agree? You make me so, so very happy." Rothark dabbed a finger into the blood leaking from the gaping wound. He pushed his finger onto his tongue, and closed his eyes, groaning his appreciation. "There is something special about your blood. Something unique. You should prey that my little bird has your same gift." He turned away from her. The screaming had subsided, replaced by helpless whimpers.

"Be a dear and hold onto that for me, won't you? There's a good girl." Rothark turned away from her. "I have much to thank you for. I feel... rejuvenated. Thank you for being so miserable." He laughed a sickly laugh, and walked towards the door. He spared her one last glance, before wiping the blood from his hands onto his armor, and walking out of the door.

It wasn't long before he stumbled accross Garred. The young vampire bowed before him. "My little bird has sung me a song, Garred. She sings that our kin near Markarth may soon have their ends painted in blood. But they are just a means to an end. I have a task for you."

"Anything, my Lord."

"Go to the fools near Markarth that dare associate themselves with us. Loom around, and tell them you are on my orders. Erase any evidence. Take any important documents, anything of value, and bring it here. If our kin are to go as lambs to the slaughter, do not let their vanquishers know that we are their shepherds. We do not want to be discovered. Yet."

"As is thy bidding, my master."

"Very good. Very good. And if you happen to cross paths with Miss Greyshade on your travels, just perchance, let her know that I have urgent need of her services."

"It shall be done, my Lord."

"Well, the guards at the gate mentioned something about an animal problem. The Jarl's looking for warriors, apparently, to deal with it. Not entirely sure what exactly it involves though."
Thomas looked at her gratefully. Even in a rough place like Markarth there were some genuinly helpful people. Unsure of what to say next to Lily, he turned back to the Breton woman they'd been observing before, who suddenly spoke up.
"The Jarl of Markarth, as most of you may already know, is looking for a group of able-bodied men and women to take down some wolves. These supposed wolves are located in a cave a quarter of a day out from here. They've been attacking travelers on the road and ripping out throats with just their teeth. The people of Markarth are afraid. And they should be."

Thomas looked on with interest now. The Breton certainly didnt look the innocent type, but he put it down to pure luck that he would encounter someone following the same bounty as him. He briefly had to wonder what the Breton's young friend was there for, but decided to wait until after the calling to check.
"Tomorrow, at dawn, I'm taking my sister here, Lilumae, and we're headed out to the Cave to exterminate these wolves. If you want to make a bit of coin, or you want to do the right thing, you'll meet us at Markarths entrance come daybreak. The bigger our crew, the faster those wolves fall, the sooner we get paid. Your call, Milk-drinkers." Thomas didnt flinch at her closing remark, briefly glancing over to where he had left his untouched drink, only to find that someone had taken it.

Checking to see if his sword remained safely sheathed, Thomas smiled over at his new friend. "Well, there goes my marching orders. I'm just going to go ask for a few more details, but if your gone when I get back it was nice meeting you! Maybe we'll bump into one another some other time- he paused to examine his words, taking another glance at Lily's sabre. -That is of course, if you dont want to join m-"
Thomas was cut off to the sound of bones crunching on the other side of the room. As they both turned around to see what was going on, a fight broke out between a group of labourers & the rebel supporters he had observed before, being backed up a semi-behemoth of a Nord. Thomas intially dismissed this as the average banter found in the tavern & began to turn away again, but as he saw the source of the commotion in the form of a harrased young girl, his natural agression kicked in & he jumped to his feet. Before departing, he glanced at Lily. "If one of them knock's me out, could you drag me out of there? Or jump in, whatever takes your fancy". Deciding not to smile at his own witty humour he then rushed off to help seetle the dispute, unsure of what he was actually going to do upon reaching the scene.

With the room so suddenly packed Thomas had trouble reaching the group, & when he arrived the fight was seemingly over. The Nord warrior had a Miner in a death grip, but the girl laid there defencelessly covered in her own dinner, clearly having a panic attack. Her carer stood over her protectively & out of nowhere the young redhead appeared, trying to sooth the girl.
With his adrenaline quickly subsiding Thomas lost focus. After observing a figure being ordered away from her, he realised that to help he could clear a space to combat her claustraphobia, whilst the older man & redhead did their thing.
Without instruction he turned around & began to herd people away from the scene, but his average size meant the crowd quickly began to overwhelm him.
He called out to the large Nord & theif-ish type who were standing idly by. "Let's give them some room here, gents. You both seem capable enough to perform crowd control".