18+ Demons in the Dark

Pyrus Vanius, sitting on bench of the wagon they'd hired to take them to the Breton town of Crossmore, grunted as the wheel struck a rut in the road, and sent the impact up through the floor. Across from him, his younger sister, Jysella Vanius, glanced out at the driver. It was the fifth day of their journey that had started at the Paladins' headquarters in Cyrodiil. The journey had been uneventful, mostly. A few random bandit attacks, of course, but that was to be expected.

The war had just ended a few months ago, and hundreds of soldiers had come home from Skyrim. Most simply returned home and reunited with their family and friends and lived their lives. Not everyone was like that, however. Some men, once they'd started fighting and killing, they were unable to do anything else. Or worse, they found they enjoyed killing, and decided to continue doing so,along with robbery and rape. Neither Pyrus nor Jysella had hesitated in giving the latter type of men their just rewards.

"How much longer, driver?" Jysella piped up from her seat. Her fingers tapped rapidly against her thigh. The tapping was a dead giveaway that his sister was excited to be done with the trip. He sighed, but couldn't help but grin at her. Despite the fact they were probably going into a dangerous situation, she was more than ready. Honestly, so was Pyrus. He'd never been one to quietly sit by when innocents were in need. Or when someone was ready and willing to take the fight to the forces of evil. "Not very long, ma'am. A few more minutes, maybe."

The man didn't lie. Perhaps ten minutes after he'd given his response, the wagon rolled into the town of Crossmore. Pyrus dropped a large sack of coins in the drivers hand as Jysella grabbed their packs and stepped out of the carriage. He stepped into the street, and noticed Jysella coolly taking in the sights of Crossmore. Due to its close proximity to the coast, Crossmore had plenty of fishermen, and the air smelled of sea water and fish. Which didn't terribly bother Pyrus. Both he and his sister had smelt much worse.

"Where are we supposed to meet lord Gravus?" Pyrus asked his sister. She glanced at the letter in her hand. "Near one of the taverns...the restless goblin." Pyrus grunted his understanding and the pair of paladins made their way down the street. After a short time, it became obvious where Gravus had set himself up. The market square of the town had been commandeered by what looked like hundreds of people. A large tent, guarded by a dozen heavily armed men drew their attention.

The pair approached the tent and its guard, announced themselves, and waited as one of the men went inside and spoke to its' inhabitants. A minute later, the two paladins were waved inside. The tent was spacious enough to hold half a dozen chairs, a medium sized wooden table in the center of the tent, and three Breton men. One, short man, with a large gut, and receding hairline. He wore clothes that spoke of wealth and high standing. His fingers were bedecked with rings. The other man was more gnarled; his face was scarred and his eyes, pale blue, were haunted. He was also taller, with a thin beard, and long dark hair, going grey at the ends.He wore no jewelry, but his right hand clutched a plain staff.

The third man, standing between the two, glanced up from table, where a map of the region was spread. He was clearly the youngest of the two, with a clean shaven face, short blonde hair, and dark green eyes. He was not as thin as the robed man, but he was a far cry short of fat. He was perhaps just under six feet in height. He wore a black tunic, and a single ring that had a crest unfamiliar to Pyrus or his sister. The man glanced from brother to sister, and a grin split his face. "Welcome!" He exclaimed. "You must be the paladins I was promised. I must say, you certainly look capable enough." He bowed, and when he straightened he announced; "I, am lord Jonathan Gravus. Last of my line. This, " he gestured to the balding, pudgy man on his left, "is my master of coin, Gavin Feller. He's making sure this little expedition of mine is properly supplied and financed." The man smiled, his beady eyes flicking from one paladin to the other. There was something in those eyes that Pyrus immediately disliked. "A pleasure, noble paladins." The man said, inclining his head, his voice silky smooth.

Lord Gravus turned to his right, to the robed man. "And this, is my good friend, Tollis Thraen. He's...gotten me through a lot of nasty situations." The man gave them a thin lipped smile, and inclined his head. " On behalf of the order of paladins of Arkay, we offer our services in reclaiming your home." Jysella said, bowing herself. Pyrus followed her lead. Gravus smiled. "And gladly, I accept. While we wait for the others to arrive, please, help yourself to some food and drink. I look forward to working with you." The paladins bowed again, before leaving the tent. Pyrus worried about the others. He doubted solely those of pure intent would be arriving to join the expedition.

The carriage entered the town of Crossmore, and its passengers, two males, one a Dunmer, in fashionable clothing, cloak and a pair of scimitars at his sides. The other wore more inconspicuous clothing, dark pants, shirt and cloak. The glint of light chainmail could be glimpsed when he turned to pay the driver. He wore a sabre on his left hip, and a dagger on his right. The man, Veridas Ashheart, turned away from the driver, and examined the street with a scowl on his face. Jeth La'ralle, merchant, fighter, and information broker, clapped him on the back. "Cheer up, my friend! How often does one get the opportunity to return to ones homeland?"

Veridas transferred his glare to the dark elf. "I will not 'cheer up'." He snapped. "This isn't some idle diversion. We were ordered here, remember?" He said, referring to the instructions, he at least had received before heading for High Rock. "Well, you were ordered. I decided to come along as a- what did you call it? Oh yes- an idle diversion." The assassins' eyes narrowed dangerously. Jeth chuckled and turned towards the street once more. "Fine. Be a crotchety old goat if you must. Perhaps that Draconus fellow simply wanted you out of the way. For whatever he has planned in Skyrim." The Dunmer began making his way down the street, and Veridas followed. "If it even was Draconus' orders." He muttered.
Jeth shot his friend a sharp look. "You mean Salthar? Don't be silly. He died at the battle of Karthwasten. Dozens of people saw it."

"Then how come his body was never found?" Challenged Veridas, and Jeth shrugged. Veridas had not been at the battle, but he'd heard the news of Salthar Vivarians apparent death at the battle, and the defeat of his army. But no one had ever found his body. If Veridas had heard of the battle before hand, he'd have left the service of the Bloodlet Throne. As it happened, he'd arrived to find the Imperial vampire Lucius Draconus, in command. 'At least,' he thought to himself, 'it was him and not one of the 'superior-minded' ones'. He'd been sent to High Rock to assist with the 'reclamation' of some castle. Jeth, one of his few friends, had decided to come with him. Personally, he suspected that Vivarian had survived. Veridas had always suspected the Altmer vampire had known more than he let on about his past.

Either way, he was in High Rock now, like it or not. And it didn't look like the province had changed much. From what he'd seen on the road, and what he was seeing now. A boy, barely past ten, sat in the gutter, begging. Jeth, predictably, noticed, and dropped a small sack of coins into his outstretched hands. Their was enough gold in the purse for a few meals, more if the boy was smart, and he knew it. The kids jaw hung open and his eyes brimmed with thankfulness. Jeth winked at him, and the assassin and information broker continued on their way. "You shouldn't have done that." Veridas said softly. "And why not?" Inquired Jeth, smiling at a young woman who scurried past, going about her business.

"Because. He's probably part of the local thieves guild. When a guard or knight sees him with that they'll assume he stole it, and take it. Maybe throw in a beating. And he'll be back out here tomorrow, just as broke." Jeth shot the assassin a withering glare. "You truly are in a foul mood today, aren't you?" Veridas shrugged. "No. I'm just realistic. That's how things work in High Rock. The knights lord it over the commoners, and the mages lord it over them. And the peasants get to live their miserable little lives."

Jeth shook his head. "Come. There's a contact here we should meet with before we go looking for this Breton lord." The pair of them continued along, until Jeth spotted one of the merchants, this one an Imperial, who discreetly waved them over. "Lorbin. I hope you have something interesting for my friend and I?" The man leaned forwards. "Not much is known about this new lord. He only arrived here a few days ago. A lot of guards. They've set up on the other side of the square. A pair of those fancy paladins of Arkay showed up a little while ago and talked with him. " Veridas rolled his eyes. Of course paladins would be involved somehow. Jeth thanked the man, then nodded towards the large, heavily guarded tent "shall we?"

The pair headed inside, and found themselves facing a trio of men. One was rather corpulent, but the other two seemed fit. The man in the center presumably fancied himself as some sort of warrior, judging by the chainmail. The man on the right...Veridas narrowed his eyes. He recognized a mage when he saw it. "Welcome to Crossmore." The central man said, "I'm lord Gravus. Am I correct in assuming you're here to join the expedition?" Jeth spoke for both of them, confirming they were. After a round of introductions, they were invited to wait around for the others to arrive.

Marc stumbled through a thick line of brush as he came out onto the dirt and stone road he had lost track of a mile or two ago in his haste for a shortcut. He cursed as the heinous thicket attempted to grab ahold of a piece of lower hanging chainmail, but managed to break free without tripping nonetheless. As he came out of the thicket, he was greeted with the wondrous sight of a settlement that was undoubtedly either Crossmore, or about to be home to one angry Breton.

He stepped into the town and opened the parchment again, reading where was supposed to meet the long lost heir, but found it no harder to track the king's tent than to find a dancing bear in the Imperial City.

Before dealing with the king, Marc was reminded of his more urgent desire to eat fresh food, having survived on questionable berries the night before. He wandered into the nearest tavern, one not too far way from his original destination, by the name of The Restless Goblin, and was immediately filled with the smells of chicken, rabbit, duck, and fish being roasted and the sounds of drunken men conversing in either suspiciously low tones or raucously loud voices.

He made his way to the bar and ordered a small meal and an ale, just enough to get him through the meeting and likely half way through the day without resorting to more questionable berries.

As the barmaid served him his food and he put what few coins he had left in her care, he asked, "Tell me, madam, this town, would it by chance be Crossmore?"

She, a rather old woman with a story for every wrinkle lining her brow, smiled at him and said, "Yes, and you wouldn't happen to be here for the fishing, would you? There are some wonderful spots. Though I guess sometimes you have to go very deep into the ocean for them."

He replied with a smile of his own and left the rest unsaid.

The old woman sighed and said, "You just watch yourself around those three. There's a lot being said about them and not all of it's nice."

At this this Marc looked up and shrugged, "Don't worry too much about me, I can handle myself in a battle."

She walked away, but not before saying, "I'm sure you can," with that same smile plastered on her face.

Feeling a sense of unease and intrusion he had been blind to before, Marc finished his meal quickly and stepped back outside, once again muffling the typical tavern noise and alluring smells to be greeted by the sound of fishermen and waves, accompanied by the salty scent of the ocean and its many inhabitants.

He wandered over to the tent he saw earlier and, after a short exchange with a heavily armed and ready man, he was greeted inside, albeit rather gruffly.

He was met with the sight of five people. Three stood behind a large table and the other two loitered closer to the entrance. Marc could almost smell the coin on the plump man's lips, and almost recoiled, thinking the man was the merchant from his own past, but quickly recovered; and the other could freeze an ice wraith with his cold eyes, but the center man seemed pleasant enough, at least compared to his associates.

The more pleasant of the trio lit up a little and said, "Ah, another one to join the expedition, I assume?" After a terse nod from Marc, he said, "Excellent, welcome to Crossmore, the tavern is nearby if you are hungry or thirsty or otherwise patient enough to wait for my word."

After Marc was introduced to the king's men, he headed back to the tavern. However, instead of going inside and being haunted by the smell of cooking food and the sight of wine, he sat on the bench outside the tavern, brought out his sword and started sharpening it with a whet stone. At least outside such scents were dulled and the weather wasn't too bad. Besides, he had already eaten his trivial meal, and he would wander inside if he saw the messenger or the king or whoever the king decided to use to gather their attention and thrust them into the expedition.

Torvin Ironhand was new to High Rock. Not that he'd never met any Bretons, but his life in Windhelm had mostly involved dealing with fellow Nords. A few dark elves from time to time. And very, very rarely some outsiders such as Khajiit or high elves. But all of High Rock was very much different than Skyrim, or at least, from what he'd seen so far. Plus, it was a fair amount warmer than the tundra that Torvin called home. Because of this, for most of the trip, the young Nord kept looking around him, with an expression of curiosity and more than a little excitement.

As soon as the carriage had arrived at the town where he was supposed to meet this 'lord' he tossed the driver a sack of coins, and vaulted over the side of the wagon. He landed lightly, then began to take in the town a little more closely. It was much different from Windhelm, that was for sure, but then, in some ways, it wasn't that different. He could hear the shouts of fishermen and sailors, down by the docks. He saw merchants going about their business, along with ordinary citizens. He also noticed a fair amount of guards and beggars. The former patrolled the streets, and kept a sharp eye on the latter. For the most part, he saw only Bretons. That neither surprised nor bothered him, and from what he'd heard, the people of High Rock were a great deal more welcoming to outsiders than his own people.

Torvin soon found himself turned around however. He was used to navigating cities like Windhelm, but Windhelm was where he'd grown up. He knew it like the back of his hand. This town was uniquely un-Nordic, and while this wasn't Torvins first adventure, it was the only time he'd been away from Skyrim. Flustered by his lack of any meaningful progress, and without a map to orient himself properly, he decided to give in and ask one of the many guards for directions to this mysterious Bretons center of operations.

He spotted a guard that didn't seem to be too preoccupied, and ambled over to him. "Excuse me." The guard took in his attire and weapons with a single glance. "What can I help you with?" The guardsman asked, though by the look in the mans eye, he knew exactly why Torvin was here. "I heard a Breton lord was looking for warriors to accompany him on some grand adventure...but, I, ah, can't find where exactly he's located." The guard smiled, as if Torvin had just confirmed some suspicion of his. "A warrior, eh? Well, I'd say you've come to the right place. His lordship has set up in the market square." At Torvins blank expression, the guard chuckled. "Go straight until you reach the restless goblin tavern. You can't miss the marketplace from there. His lordship has the biggest tent in the square."

Torvin thanked the man, and followed his instructions. Sure enough, he came across the stands and crowds of people that made up the merchant square. Obviously, some of the square still served its' purpose, with merchants showing off their wares. A large part of the square had been taken by a group of armed men, and a pretty big tent. Obviously the Breton lords. Torvin marched proudly up to the six men guarding the entrance and announced himself. One of the guards stuck his head inside and repeated his name. Apparently, he was expected, because a few seconds later, the same guard grunted for him to get inside.

Torvin stepped inside, and was surprised to see three others there ahead of him. A Dunmer and two Bretons. They stood near the entrance to the tent. On the opposite end, stood three other men. One was fat and balding, and very clearly rich. The other was lean and had a kindly expression , and the third man was thin with long dark hair. His eyes held a coldness that made Torvin shiver inside his armour. He guessed the thin man was a mage, and unless the staff in his hand was a walking stick, he was right. The warrior was right. He wasn't sure what to feel about that. All his life, he'd been told mages were dangerous and not to be trusted. Before he could decide one way or another, the central man smiled at him. "Welcome. I think I'm correct in assuming you're here to join the expedition?" Torvin blinked, rendered mute by surprise. The man looked a little young to be a lord...but maybe that was how they did things in High Rock. "Yes...I mean, I am here to join the expedition, my lord." He replied with a bow.

"Glad to hear it." The lord said, then gestured to the others "as you can see, you're not the only one. We're waiting on a few others, but I'm sure you had a long journey to get here. Please, feel free to get yourself some food and drink." Torvin managed to thank the lord, before he left the tent and headed for the tavern. Now that he'd been accepted, his stomach reminded him he was quite hungry. He entered the tavern and ordered a bowl of stew, and an ale. Then sat back and wondered how many others would be joining this expedition.

The sun hung high above the trees as the town of Crossmore came into view. Ka'arak listened to the noises in the distance as he approached, walking along the track that led into the center of the town. He had been walking for four days, apparently the only person who could be bothered to walk and camp. He had been passed by numerous carriages, hauling all sorts of people from all sorts of places along the trail. The day was mild; the sun was out and the sky was cloudless, yet it seemed oddly chilly. It could have been that he was still used to the heat of Hammerfell, Ka'arak had never quite adapted to the climate of High Rock.

As more of the town came into view, he was blown away. It was rare for such a large congregation to place itself in such a small town. A gran pavilion had been erected in the town market, and the largest tent was guarded by at least a dozen armored soldiers. Ka'arak was cautious about approaching. If these men turned hostile, he had no way of taking down so many. Instead he sat on a bench, taking in the smells of the salty sea air. Gulls, or some such seabird, were circling overhead and occasionally diving into the water, and the bustling ports were withing view. Ka'arak watched a pair of breton fishermen hauling in their catch, and made note to order seafood for dinner.

Sighing, and looking down at his dirty attire, Ka'arak withdrew his cowl, letting the sun shine on his leathery skin. He wasn't dressed appropriately to stand before a lord, that much he was sure of. And yet, with this many people jumping at the opportunity, he knew that even a day could make him too late. Reluctantly, the Redguard began to make his way towards the tent.

The guards let Ka'arak in without question, much to his surprise. The air inside the tent was cool, and the scent of the sea air was somewhat dulled. It took a moment for Ka'arak's vision to fight its way through the sudden gloom of the tent. There was a large central table set out as if it was in a war room, and three men stood on the other side, mumbling. Ka'arak cleared his throat to get their attention. "Apologies, I did not mean to interrupt. I'm here to meet with one Lord Gravus."

"Ah, of course." The three were facing him now, allowing Ka'arak to make his primary judgement. The man on the left was stout and fat, dressed richly, with hands that looked like they were being weighed to his sides with rings. The man on the right was taller, with graying hair and a face laden with scars. It was the man in the middle, however, that most interested Ka'arak. Clad in a black tunic, with green eyes and short blonde hair, stood the man who had addressed him; the one he assumed was Lord Gravus. "I am Jonathon Gravus, last of my line. This is Gavin," he said, gesturing to the fat man, "who'll be handling our financing on this venture. And this," gesturing to the right this time, "is Tollis. Might I ask your own name?"

"Ka'arak Rishul, m'Lord. I've come to offer my assistance on your venture."

"Ah, I see. And what might you offer to me here, Ka'arak, that I might not find elsewhere?"

"Well, I'm not a bad shot if I do say so myself. I'm a survivalist. I can hunt, trap, fish, cook, camp... I've spent a long time in the wilds, more than most men could probably handle."

"I see. Very well, I think you'll do nicely. Please, make your way to the inn. You'll be notified when we are ready to proceed." Ka'arak bowed and backed out of the tent, leaving the men to their mutters and squinting against the sun. Ka'arak put his cowl back up, and pushed the door aside as he entered the inn. He walked up to the bartender, ordering a salmon stake and a bowl of soup, and a flagon of ale. Still hooded, Ka'arak slapped a few coins on the counter and found himself a seat, tucking into his meal as the world went on around him.

Elodie looked over the corpse of her 'borrowed' horse with annoyance. The stupid creature had gotten in the way of a fireball aimed at a bandit. The poor thing was one of six she had inadvertently killed on her journey to High Rock. She was never any good with animals. She bent over it, letting out a puff of air to blow away the strands of hair that had fallen over her eyes as she removed her satchel of supplies tied to the horse. She looked down the path in front of her and sighed; she still had several hours to travel and it would have to be by foot.

By the time Elodie arrived in Crossmore her feet ached and she longed for her next meal. She would wait until after meeting the lord to ensure herself a place; she didn't want to have travelled all this way to find the expedition was full.

It was easy enough to find the lord. The tent, plastered in the centre of the courtyard was well guarded. She had never seen such a large gathering of people and found herself suddenly shy to approach. She wondered how they would take her arrival. Would they welcome the young mage? Or laugh at her and call her a child? She watched as men of all sorts entered the tent being let in without question. Taking a deep breath, she decided it was her turn. She strode up to the pair of guards at the door and politely requested entry. They gave her an odd look but let her pass regardless.

Inside the tent she was met with three imposing figures and a few of the men she had seen enter earlier. One particularly caught her attention, a balding man clad with more wealth than she had seen in a long time. She eyed his rings and just as she thought how much better they would look on her she realised they were looking at her expectantly. She snapped her eyes back put to hem, not realising she had zoned out and scrambled for words.

"Oh, um, I'm here to speak with Lord Gravus?" she asked nervously.

To her surprise, the man in the centre spoke up. She had thought lords were the ones who adorned themselves in jewels and riches.

"That would be me. This is Gavin," he said, gesturing to the balding man, "and this is Tollis."

"I am Elodie Maillet, my lord, here to join the expedition."

The trio eyed the young woman skeptically. Worried that they would reject her, she hurriedly spoke up again,

"I'm a mage, my lord. Better than I look, and older too."

"Well then, you could certainly be of use. Welcome to Crossmore; the others wait at the tavern."

"Thank you, my lord." she curtsied and quickly left the tent. She had done it. Despite her fears, they hadn't rejected her; now she just had to survive the expedition. Elodie made her way to the tavern and bought herself a small meal with the meagre amount of stolen coin she had left from her journey. She looked over the others in the tavern whom she assumed would be taking part in the expedition with intrigue. It was certainly a mixed bunch.

Havarra hopped off the carriage, handing the driver a small purse of coins. After she'd left the carriage behind, she reached into one of her pouches that lined her armour, and grinned at the much larger purse she'd lifted off of him as they'd entered the city of Crossmore. The mans' outraged cry had her chuckling. She hadn't eaten very well before leaving for High Rock, nor during the trip. The ride had been boring and the driver irritating. She figured a little compensation was more than in order. She headed deeper into Crossmore, wondering about this expedition she'd heard about.

She'd never been one to trust vague messages. At best, they were some fools idea of a joke. At worst, it was a trap. Havarra wasn't too keen on encountering either. Then, she wasn't helpless, either. She had no fewer than four daggers on her person. One on the inside of her forearm right forearm, another in her left boot, a third at the small of her back, and the final blade riding in plain sight on her hip. Though, if it came to a fight, she'd rather run than risk her neck.

Which brought her place in this whole expedition into question. She preferred to stalk the streets cities, relieving fools of their valuables. She had very little experience with travelling in the wilderness. But, if they were going to some ancient castle, she was sure they'd encounter some locked doors. And Havarra had years to perfect her lockpicking technique. So long as she made her case a convincing one, when she finally met this lord.

She looked around, smiling as the smell of the fishermens latest haul reached her nose. She reminded herself that she'd need to ask for some sort of seafood meal once she'd finished her official business. She made her way deeper into Crossmore, keeping her eyes open. It didn't take long for her to find the lords tent. It was out of place in a market square, but Havarra figured that with the lord being exactly that, he could place his tent wherever he damn well pleased.

Six guards stood by the entrance, and Havarra chose a shady spot to watch. People, most of them armed in some way or another. 'Definitely where this lord is. I'll have to get a move on if i want a place in this thing.' She left her observation post behind and approached the tent. And then found her way blocked by all six guards. "Are you lost, girl?" One of the men asked gruffly. Havarra wasn't surprised by the question. With light armour and only one visible dagger, she didn't look like much. Plus, thanks to her black fur and yellow eyes, she stuck out like a sore thumb in daylight.

"I'm here for the expedition." She replied evenly. The guards laughed among themselves, and the one who'd spoken before said "sure. And I'm the heir to the throne." Havarras' ears flattened, and she opened her mouth to retort. Before she could someone from inside the tent spoke up. A guard stuck his head inside the tent, and began a muffled conversation with the inhabitants. A minute later the guard emerged. "Let her in. His lordship wants to see her." There were a few disbelieving glances exchanged, but the men got out of the way.

Her eyes adjusted quickly to the dim light within the tent. Three people stood across from her, ranging from fat to thin. The fat man was obviously wealthy, judging by his clothes and the ridiculous amount of rings on each hand. The central man looked like a warrior of some sort, with his dark tunic and shirt of chainmail. The last man, older than the other two, looked more like an advisor or mage of some sort. "Welcome. I heard from my guards that you're interested in joining our little expedition."

While the first words out of her mouth probably should have been some form of affirmative, she was surprised that this lord was young. Much younger than she would've thought lords to be. So, instead, she blurted "you're lord Gravus?" The mans' eyebrows lifted fractionally, and he smirked. "Obviously. And this is Gavin Feller, and this is Tollis." He said, gesturing to his left and right respectively.

Havarras' ears flattened in embarrassment. Generally, insulting your employer wasn't the best idea. "Uh. It's a pleasure." She managed. "And,yes I am here to join your expedition." The lord glanced over her armour and clothing, then said "and what would you be able to offer us?"

"I'm willing to bet I'm the best lockpick around. Plus, I can get where others can't, easily. And I'm not as defenseless as I look." She said. Gavin, the fat one, sneered. "A filthy thief. We don't need her type around here, my lord. Let the town guard deal with her." Havarra shot the man a nasty glare. She was a thief, true, but she was hardly filthy. "On the contrary, Gavin. I think she could be quite useful. Welcome to the expedition, miss. Feel free to wait in the tavern across the square." Grinning triumphantly, Havarra turned on her heel and left the tent. Soon, she was at a table in the tavern digging into a meal of freshly caught salmon.

The forest surrounding the coastal village of Crossmore looked as if it was trying to hide the settlement. Outside of the bustling noises and sounds sourced by the village, there was nothing but eerie silence. Delsin had noticed this immediately as he had entered the trees. At least three days of walking, and this silence hadn't changed, aside from the new echos of Crossmore. He could already smell the ocean air washing over the soft coastal hills. This, coupled with the scents and smells of the forest gave the Mer a smile out of anticipation for his plans in the village.

The moment Varik had told him about the "Lord Returned", he couldn't help but jump at the opportunity. Sure, Varik gave him a hassle for asking to postpone training, however, since Delsin's training with Emmeric had concluded, the Mer had been attempting to follow Breton's teachings. "Seek out every opportunity to learn and experience Nirn. Strive to take every opportunity to help those who ask," were the words Emmeric had made Delsin memorize, words he had taken to heart. However, in the last couple of years of traveling, he had the opportunity to abide by this mantra only a few times, and he felt that this opportunity would be one to remember.

His trek toward the village had been rather uneventful. Outside of a few brief stops for gathering supplies or picking ingredients and herbs, he didn't see anything out of the ordinary. However, his mind wandered about how different that would have been, had he taken one of the main roads that cut through the mountainous terrain. He knew that with this Lord's announcement, there would be more people than he would have liked to deal with. So, his intentional avoidance of it all was for the better, though he would have liked something interesting along the way. As he approached the edge of the forest, he glanced down at the note that Varik had given him. "The Restless Goblin," he spoke softly to himself. Not the kind of place in which I would prefer to dine, he thought with a slight scoff.

To his dismay, the village only grew more crowded as Delsin walked the stone road. Though he tried to distract himself with the new-found smells of fish and venison, nothing could shake the Mer's growing anxiety. Crowds of people, and people in general, had never been something Delsin had come to prefer. So Delsin kept his head down, attempting to ignore those around him, occasionally eyeing the various buildings through his hood and cowl, in search of his destination. However, the straying eyes and glares that he attempted to ignore only made it worse. Take your hood of you bloody idiot, you look like a fool, his mind spat at him harshly, as he pulled them off his head and face. He kept his head low for the rest of the walk, meticulously keeping his uncontrollable anxiety at bay, until he made his way to the tavern.

As the door shut behind him, Delsin scanned the room, avoiding the eyes of those who stared in his direction. Like you've never seen an elf before, his mind taunted at the few who stared. Along with crowds, the Mer had never liked the stares that strangers often gave him, as he could feel the judgement emanating from them as they did so. Sitting at the bar, Delsin gestured at the older woman who was scrubbing tankards. "Do you happen to have any salt or pepper for sale?" he asked politely, taking note of the woman's puzzled expression. "I do. But you could just take it if you'd like," she responded confused. This was an occurrence that Delsin had come to expect from village to village. He had never been interested in buying something that he could make or catch by himself, and had never been one for drinking. However, he always seemed to be at a shortage of spices, which constantly drew him back into various taverns along his travels.

The woman set down a couple of mixing bowls filled with the spices, and flashed Delsin a smile. "I assume you come looking for the young Lord," she spoke calmly, as he tucked the spices away in his satchel, "He's set up quite comfortably in the market square. You couldn't miss his tent if you tried." Delsin nodded in response, standing up from the bar, hoping to escape the stares from the patrons around him. "Thank you miss," he spoke with a nod and slight bow.

From the tavern, it didn't take the Mer long to approach the large tent the woman had been speaking about. He let a small chuckle escape his mouth as he thought back to the woman's remark. It would be rather difficult to miss the tent, especially since you could see it over most of the village. As he approached the square, Delsin took note of the guards surrounding it's entrance amidst the rush of people around them. Though he had no intention of fighting with the men, Varik had taught him to look for any weaknesses his allies or enemies may possess. However, he found it difficult to focus around growing crowd of civilians.

Heavy armor, means they lack speed but make up for it in power, he thought to himself with great effort, attempting to ignore the people bumping and shoving past him. As he made his way through the people, towards the front of the tent, Delsin repelled the urge to let his anxiety take over. Everything will be fine, just announce yourself to the guard, and he will le- the large man interrupted his thoughts as he violently whipped the door to the tent open. Clearly not in the mood for a chat, Delsin thought, raising an eyebrow at the man, while entering hastily.

Stepping onto the colorfully patterned carpet allowed the Mer to be met with the warmth of a dying flame and the smells of incense. Around the long wooden table placed at the center of the tent, stood 3 men, all of Breton decent. It took Delsin only seconds to spot the "Lord Returned" he had traveled all this way to meet. He stood centered between the others, carefully examining a large map of the region Crossmore was positioned in. As the man looked up, he brushed his blonde hair out of his face, and gave a small smile in greeting.

"My Lord," Delsin spoke courteously, bowing his head and placing his arm across his chest, "I am Delsindomien Baelikaro, or Delsin to those close to me, and I have come in response to your announcement." He looked up to see the lord nod in understanding, "Wonderful! I am Lord Jonathan Gravus, last of my line. This-" he spoke gesturing towards the man at his right, who stood prideful despite his obvious balding head, "-is Gavin Feller, my master of coin." Delsin nodded towards the man, not moving his arm from the position across his chest. "And this," the Lord spoke again, gesturing to his left, at the large and scarred brute, "-is Tollis Thraen, a good friend and trustworthy ally." Delsin nodded once more.

"You look quite young, Del-Delsin?" stumbling as he spoke with a hint of confusion, "What might you offer us on this mission?" Delsin grinned at his question, ready and proud to share his training with the man. "I have completed 3 years of extensive training with Emmeric Tolvar, ex Lion Guard Captain and Mountaineer. I am currently the apprentice of Varik the Sword, training in swordsmanship and forging. I have spent most of my life studying alchemy and herbology, as well as bestiology and hunting. I am knowledgeable ranger and forest guide, as well as a hunter and tracker. I can heal with the potions that I make, and kill with the poisons I create. I believe I can be an asset to your mission, and I hope that you agree."

After he had spoken, the Lord stared at him blankly, and Delsin's smile faded. Oh, I overdid it. I REALLY overdid it. He probably thinks I am a fool, an ARROGANT fool. I am such an idiot. Varik said I needed to be more humble, damn it all. Delsin you bloody buffoon, you pompous- his thoughts were then interrupted by the man to the Lord's left clearing his throat. "I have heard of Emmeric Tolvar. A gifted warrior mi'lord," Tollis spoke briefly, as Gravus nodded. Oh thank the mother! That man may have just saved my sorry arse, Delsin thought in a panic once more.

"Well, Delsin," the Lord spoke in a happy tone, "You sound like a perfect fit for our expedition! Please make your way to the Tavern or otherwise. We will notify you as soon as we are ready to start!" Delsin's face lit up with a grin, as he nodded his head once again before turning around to make his way out. He had come all this way to fulfill his training, and despite his foolish outburst, the Lord still accepted him. A feeling he had seldom experienced, as his eager and prideful outbursts often came across as unnecessary and boastful, even if this was not what he had been going for.


"Ah, Restless Goblin," He spoke getting clear of the guards and people, "I return to you!"

Gerard of Aldfort rode through the forests and shrubland that made up most of the terrain near the seaside city of Crossmore. Unlike the many others he'd seen using the main road, various adventurers and warriors, in carriages, Gerard rode a horse. The mare had fur the colour of Gerards hair, and had been with him a long time. She had actually outlived many of his human and elven friends. Gerard knew a knights most valuable possessions were his sword, his armour and his horse. Which happened to be all Gerard currently had with him. Not counting, of course, his coin purse and a few provisions in his saddlebags.

Also unlike those others he'd seen on their way to the city, Gerard wasn't planning on joining this venture for coin. Or glory or fame. He was on a quest for penance. Though he was a knight, he'd committed a few foul acts that called for justice. Hopefully helping this lord reclaim his home would count for something. And if he fell in battle bringing this goal to reality, so much the better.

The city of Crossmore itself came into view, and Gerard urged his horse forwards. As grim as his purpose was, he eager to meet this lord and offer his services. He dismounted at the stables, and took the time to make sure his horse was properly looked after before heading into the more active areas of the city. As with most places,in high rock, he was recognized as a knight almost instantly. Guards and townsfolk alike stepped out of his way, giving him respectful, and a few fearful nods. He wished they wouldn't.

Finding the lords tent was not terribly difficult. It was placed in the market square, one of the largest there. Plus, it was guarded by six heavily armed and armoured men. The saw him coming, and one of the men nearest the tent entrance yanked it open and spoke to its' occupant quickly. By the time he'd reached the entrance, the man had emerged and held the flap open for him. He stepped inside, blinking a few times as his eyes adjusted to the light.

Three men, all Breton, stood behind a table. A map of the region lay spread on it. One of the men, on the left, was fat and balding, and wealthy, if his rings were any indication. The man on the right looked more like a mage. And one that had seen many a battle. The central man, Gerard guessed to be the lord. He wore chainmail and a black tunic, and had the bearing of a warrior. The man, blonde haired and green eyed, smiled at him. "Welcome to Crossmore, sir knight. I suppose you're here to join our expedition?"

"That's correct, my lord" Gerard replied.

"Good. My name, is Jonathan Gravus, last of my line. My companions, are Gavin Feller, my master of coin, and Tollis Thraen, a good friend and trustworthy companion." He indicated both men as he spoke. "The others are waiting in the tavern the restless goblin. Join them there." Gerard bowed deeply, before turning on his heel and heading to the afore mentioned tavern. As he'd expected, the place was packed, and not just with commoners. A Nord, Redguard, Khajiit, and a couple of elves stood out the most. It was certainly going to be an interesting journey.

Nycea cursed as she tripped over a half concealed rock. Usually she wasn't so clumsy, but traipsing across the landscape of Highrock had tired her. She hadn't wanted to to waste coin on a horse or wagon, which meant she was on foot. Not the best plan, and it certainly wasn't the beset way to travel, but it beat wasting gold she couldn't afford to.

Straightening, she glanced around to make sure no one had seen her embarrassing misstep. No one was in the immediate area, but for the past few days, she'd seen lots of traffic on the road. Horsemen, wagons, and people on foot. If she'd been a bandit, she would've been clapping her hands with glee. As it was the travelers had only confirmed her suspicions. This lord returned was the real deal. Either that, or he was astonishingly good at deceiving all kinds of people.

She followed the main road until she reached the city of Crossmore. The place was packed with guards, merchants and beggars as far as the eye could see. Nycea wrinkled her nose and made her way towards the market square. Usually, they were near the centre of a city, and merchants tended to know alot more than people thought.

She approached one of them, and Imperial selling assorted jewelry. She leaned on the wooden counter and flashed him a grin. The man glanced over her assorted weaponry and armour, before saying "I guess you're not here for what I'm selling."

"That's right. Where can I find this new lord fellow? I hear he's hiring." The Imperial pointed past her.

"That big tent there. With the guards." She thanked him, and turned towards the tent. As she approached, she was aware of the six guardsmen watching her. She stared back, wondering at the most efficient way to kill them. 'They wear heavy armour. Bad for me if they get in close. I'd have to take out at least two of them with my crossbow. Hopefully they'd trip up their friends. Then I'd have to test my luck with the others.' As she played through the battle in her mind, one of the men spoke with someone inside. With a grunt, she was motioned inside.

Complying she stepped inside and was met by three Breton men. One, rather fat, and looked like his life had been way too comfortable. The central man looked fit, and wore a dark tunic with a shirt of chainmail. And beside him, stood a man who looked the opposite of the first Breton, tall and scarred. "Which one of you is the lord? I'm here for the job."

The central man looked surprised by her forward attitude, but replied . "I am. Lord Jonathan Gravus, to be exact." He introduced the two others with him, the fat one as Gavin Feller, and the other as Tollis Thraen. Then he told her she'd find the others inside the tavern the restless goblin. She headed there, and once inside, saw most of those that had passed her on the road.

After looking around the market place for a little while longer, Pyrus and Jysella decided to head to the Restless Goblin tavern to see if any others had shown up to offer their aid. Or, like Pyrus believed, shown up to get as much coin as they could out of the situation. The two paladins approached the tavern and Pyrus stepped inside first, quickly taking in the main rooms patrons. He noticed three elves, a Khajiit, and a few others, none of them, even the Bretons looked like they were locals. "Wow." Muttered Jysella, beside him. "Word of lord Gravus' quest sure traveled far."

"Don't be so surprised" Pyrus replied in an equally low tone. "People like this are always looking for a way to make money." Though he did notice a Breton knight among the people in the crowd. Or, someone dressed as a knight. Pyrus took a seat near the door, and Jysella joined him a moment later. "You have to admit, they look capable." Looking at the various armors and weapons of the patrons, Pyrus had to agree. Whether they had noble intentions, or were only in it for themselves, Pyrus guessed this expedition would be very well guarded.

The doors to the tavern opened and the half dozen guardsmen that had been standing outside of the large tent in the market square stormed inside. They stared down the recently arrived adventurers, their faces expressionless. Lord Gravus came next, followed by his two retainers. He took a moment to examine the room looking from one adventurer to the next. Then he smiled. "I can't express how much it means to me that you've decided to stay."

"Now- I realize some of you are only in this for the coin. Rest assured, you will be recompensed for your work." At this, Gavin rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath, but lord Gravus paid him no mind. " I've taken the liberty of hiring a group of wagons and a small company of guardsmen for the journey to my estate. They're waiting just outside the city." He paused, and then, his voice serious, said "I must warn you however. None of my family have been able to get near our old lands. I'm sure many have tried but-" the wizard at lord Gravus' side muttered something into his ear. Jonathan nodded. " What I mean to say is: this will not be a journey without danger. I know not what awaits us. If any of you feel it's too hazardous, please, leave now."

When none of the assembled adventurers made to leave, he smiled again. "Excellent. Now, if any of you have any questions, please, feel free to speak with me as we travel." He turned and headed outside. Twenty minutes later, the adventurers had grouped up and taken their seats in the several wagons that were waiting outside the cities walls, along with about three dozen heavily armed guards. Gravus and his advisors, of course took the lead wagon. A short time later, the caravan was on its' way north, to unknown adventures...and unknown dangers.

Havarra had finished her lunch, and was waiting for the others to show up, or at least for lord Gravus to join them. It looked like she was one of the last to enter, besides a couple of elves, and a Breton knight. She also couldn't help but notice that all of them seemed to be much better armed and armoured than she was. She'd probably be in some kind of trouble if she ever ended up fighting one or more of them, but on the other hand...they would make excellent shields. Any opponents would go after the biggest, most heavily armed and armoured people first. Which would give her an excellent opportunity to flank the attackers. Or, more likely, find a good hiding place.

She glanced up when the door opened again, and the same group of guards that had been guarding the tent walked inside. Lord Gravus and the two men with him walked in after them. Gravus started to talk about how glad he was they'd decided to stay, and then mentioned payment. Havarras' ears perked up at that. The lord didn't mention any solid numbers, instead going to mention that he'd hired some guards and carriages for the trip. Then he mentioned something about dangers. He looked like he would have kept going, but the tall, scarred man at his side whispered something and he stopped. He gave those that thought the trip was too dangerous the option to leave. She considered it, but then decided against it. The more dangerous the trip was, the better the payout would be. Hopefully.

Twenty minutes later, she, along with the others from the tavern, was outside the city. Like lord Gravus had promised, wagons were waiting for the group, along with a large group of guards. The lord and his companions climbed into the first wagon in line. Havarra climbed into the second, taking a seat, and curling her tail so that it rested on her lap. She stared at the others as they climbed in to join her. 'I might be stuck with these others, but this definitely beats walking.'

Ka'arak had been observing quietly from his table in the tavern, watching the people come and go and assessing them. He knew better than anyone never to judge a book by its cover, but the way people held themselves and the clothes and weapons they bore were often a good indicator of their intentions and, on occasion, their abilities. The variation in the tavern was astounding, more so than he had seen in all of his years in both Hammerfell and here in High Rock. Two armored individuals, a man in heavy armor and a woman in light, keeping to themselves. They had a similar facial structure, suggesting that they were blood relatives. The way they were dressed was a clear indicator that they weren't here for the food. Ka'arak spied an incredibly young-looking Breton woman, which instantly made him suspicious. It could have been nothing, but something about her person put him instantly on edge. There was one man that seemed to stand out, assuming it was a man. The person was large, and clad from head to toe in plate armor. Ka'arak would've bet his life that the man was here for the expedition. There were numerous others; a female Khajiit, with with black fur and golden eyes that made even a hardy man like Ka'arak nervous. A dark haired Nord, unusual of their kind, sipping a bottle of ale. There were so many people, and it was difficult to pick individuals out of the crowd.

It didn't take long for Lord Gravus to join them in the inn. He strode in, Tollis and Gavin in tow, and half a dozen guards in glimmering armor in front. Ka'arak doubted they had any real battle experience; if a fight were to break out they'd have been useless. Nothing but glorified doormen. "I can't express how much it means to me that you've decided to stay. Now, I realize some of you are only in this for the coin. Rest assured, you will be recompensed for your work." At this, Gavin rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath, but lord Gravus paid him no mind. Clearly Gavin was tight with his coin. It didn't bother Ka'arak, for money was not his motive, but knew that a lack of payment was sure to make for one angry travelling party. "I've taken the liberty of hiring a group of wagons and a small company of guardsmen for the journey to my estate. They're waiting just outside the city." He paused, and then, his voice serious, said "I must warn you however. None of my family have been able to get near our old lands. I'm sure many have tried but-" Tollis leant in and muttered something into his ear. Gravus nodded. "What I mean to say is: this will not be a journey without danger. I know not what awaits us. If any of you feel it's too hazardous, please, leave now." When none of the assembled adventurers made to leave, he smiled again. "Excellent. Now, if any of you have any questions, please, feel free to speak with me as we travel." He turned and headed outside. Ka'arak waited until all of the doormen had left, and then headed back up to the bartender. He had a few salted salmon fillets wrapped, along with an assortment of herbs and vegetables, and put them in his satchel. They may be well funded, but it had never hurt Ka'arak to be too safe before.

Within twenty minutes the whole party was assembled outside, with four wagons. There were 10 others, not including Gravus and his retainers. Everyone seemed a tad hesitant to move towards the wagons. Tollis, Gravus and Gavin piled into the front wagon, and Ka'arak moved to clamber into the second. However, the Khajiit beat him to it and was already climbing in when he reached the back of the wagon. As nervous as he felt around her, he couldn't turn away, for it would create a bad first impression, so he got on with it ad climbed in, sitting on the bench opposite her and to the side, so he had room for putting his feet up. Of course, it was just Ka'arak's luck - of all the people that could have followed him in, it was the young Breton woman that made him equally as nervous. Admittedly it wasn't set out to be a good journey. There ended up being four of them in the carriage. The black-haired Khajiit, Ka'arak, the young breton girl and then the dark-haired Nord.

While waiting for the others to ready themselves and find their seats, Ka'arak studied his companions. The Khajiit seemed to be away with her thoughts, so Ka'arak turned his attention to the Breton. She had a pretty face, youthful and innocent. All the more reason to be wary of her in the grizzled Redguard's eyes. Then he noticed her hands. Here fingers were littered with rings, a collection that would rival even Gavin's, and all sorts of bracelets and bangles rested on her thin wrists. "My my," Ka'arak began, his voice coming out deep and somewhat croaky. "You have some nice jewelry there, miss. If you don't mind my asking, where did you get it all?" It wasn't the best conversation starter, but Ka'arak was hoping he could break the ice sooner rather then later.

Elodie ate her meal slowly, watching as more people she assumed were there for the expedition gradually entered the tavern. Not long after she had finished, and her stomach was pleasantly full, six guardsmen stormed into the tavern. On instinct, she brought a spell to her fingertips, poised to attack. When Lord Gravus and his companions entered after the guardsmen, she immediately calmed herself, focusing her attention on what he was about to say.

"I can't express how much it means to me that you've decided to stay," he began, and she shifted in her seat, preparing for a long, boring speech. "Now- I realize some of you are only in this for the coin. Rest assured, you will be recompensed for your work." The bald man who's name Elodie had already forgotten rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath. This reaction did not go unnoticed. She briefly wondered whether there was enough gold to pay the many people that had volunteered, but decided if the pay did not please her she would simply steal the bald man's rings. She listened as Gravus told them of the wagons and warned them of the dangers. She did not consider leaving the group; she had come too far now to turn back. Thankfully the speech had ended much sooner than she had thought; perhaps she had misjudged the Lord.

As people started leaving the tavern to head to the carriages she thanked the innkeeper for her meal and followed after the others. She saw that Lord Gravus and his companions were already seated in the first wagon, and that the others were beginning to fill up. She climbed into one with a couple of seats left, brushing her hair out of her eyes as she sat down. She surveyed the others that had chosen this wagon and was surprised to find a Khajiit. She had never been this close to one before and so her eyes lingered on the creature.

Her attention was drawn away from the Khajiit as the Redguard spoke,
"My my, You have some nice jewellery there, miss. If you don't mind my asking, where did you get it all?"

She was glad that he had broken the silence of the wagon, but she took a brief moment to consider his words before she answered, trying to discern whether he was being accusatory. Of course she did steal them, but she had no desire to say anything incriminating to these strangers. She smiled politely at the man as she replied, "I've acquired them in my travels. Some were gifts, others purchases and the rest were found."

She paused for a moment, then thought to introduce herself to those in the carriage, "I'm Elodie, by the way. Elodie Malliet."

Jeth and Veridas had barely settled at a table in the corner, watching the other patrons closely, trying to classify them. For the most part, Veridas assumed they were either mercenaries or adventurers. He sipped his honey mead, and Jeth watched him. "Well? Your initial deductions?" Veridas snorted.
"Nothing impressive. Most of these types either are in it for the money, or they want to be 'helpful'." Jeth glanced over the assembled adventurers, and sipped his own drink, a glass of red wine. "Indeed. And of all these helpful people, do you think any of them could be useful allies?" Veridas shrugged.
"The Khajiit, maybe. Or the dark elf woman. All these others seem like the law abiding types." Jeth smiled across the room at the female dunmer. "Yes...she's quite exquisite. Perhaps I'll have the pleasure of making her acquaintance."

Veridas rolled his eyes, but before he replied, the doors opened, and guardsmen stormed inside. He was alarmed for a moment, until he realized the guardsmen weren't there to make an arrest. And Jonathan Gravus was behind them, looking rather pleased. He started some speech about how pleased he was they'd decided to stay, and the dangers, and payment. It was obvious that the lord hadn't spared any expense on the group. A short time later, he and the others were outside the city, getting into the wagons lord Gravus had hired. The lord and his two advisors climbed into the first wagon, and four others took the second. Setting his sights on the third, he lead Jeth towards the third wagon, and sat across from his companion, waiting for the others to join them.

The young breton woman seemed taken aback by his question. Ka'arak couldn't decide if she was intrigued, surprised, or offended. Nevertheless she smiled, and replied politely. "I've acquired them in my travels. Some were gifts, others purchases and the rest were found." She paused for a moment, giving Ka'arak a chance to consider what she had said. There was definitely something interesting about the way she had said 'acquired' but for now Ka'arak dismissed it. She seemed like a nice enough girl. "I'm Elodie, by the way. Elodie Maillet." Ka'arak was struggling to decide whether he apparent innocence was forced or not. It seemed most likely that it was; she was on this expedition after all.

"A pleasure to meet you, Elodie. My name is Ka'arak Rishul, but most of my friends just call me Kar. For some reason people seem to struggle with pronouncing Redguard names." He smiled politely, and leant back, feeling more relaxed now. "If you've had anywhere near as many adventures as you have rings, I'm sure you must have a tale or two to tell. I'd love to hear one. I mean, it's going to be a long ride, we'll need something to pass the time."

Elodie was unsure whether her reply made Ka'arak or the others on the wagon suspicious of her. Ka'arak didn't give any obvious indications to suggest that was the case, but Elodie was wise enough to be wary of strangers. When he asked her to share tales of her escapades she internally frowned. Ka'arak seemed like he was the lawful sort, and she didn't think he would react kindly to hearing a graphic recount of the blood she had spilled for the sake of a few jewels. She could have simply fabricated the sort of tale she thought he wanted to hear, but decided against telling extravagant lies for the moment. Instead she wished to divert the conversation's focus away from herself, but knew doing so would be suspicious.

"Ah, but I'm sure your tales are much more interesting, Kar. I am young and haven't seen much of the world yet," she said with a smile, and added, "Tell me of your homeland; from the little I have heard of Hammerfell it seems an intriguing place."

This was true. Whilst she had done much in the time since she had left her home, it had only been a couple of years. This was her first time outside of Skyrim, and her knowledge of the other provinces of Tamriel was very limited. All she knew of Hammerfell was learned from reading outdated books whilst locked in her room or heard in passing on her travels. Whilst she didn't want the others to be suspicious of her, she hoped Ka'arak would get the hint and wouldn't push her to tell stories of her adventures.

Torvin had only been in the tavern a short time before a group of guardsmen and the lord he'd met earlier entered the tavern. He gave a speech, doubtless meant to inspire the others to follow him. Looking around, he noticed that none of the others were tempted to get up and leave, and neither was he. The man mentioned transportation had already been arranged for them, and then left the tavern. He followed some of the others to the outside of town, where an impressive amount of hired blades waited alongside the wagons.

He saw lord Gravus and his two advisors entering the first wagon, and made his way to the second one. Three of the others, a Breton, and Khajiit, and a Redguard, had beaten him to it. He took the only remaining seat, and leaned his glaive against his sides. He was full of enthusiasm for the voyage, despite the 'dangers' the lord had mentioned.

The Khajiit woman didn't seem interested in talking, so Torvin turned his attention to the others. The Redguard expressed interest in the young Bretons jewellery. The amount of rings had Torvin thinking of the overweight, balding advisor of Gravus. Of course, the Breton was much easier on the eyes. She explained how she'd come by them, though he thought she sounded a little defensive as she replied, and the way she turned the conversation to the Redguards homeland.

Torvin wasn't too bothered. It wasn't exactly his business how she'd gotten them, and if she wanted to keep secrets, it was fine by him. And the homeland of the Redguards was an interesting topic. The grizzled looking warrior certainly had a tale or two to tell. "Aye. Tell us of Hammerfell." He added. "Hearing of the warm sands is sure to be a welcome change from the frozen tundra of my home."

Gerard left the tavern with the others, after lord Gravus' speech. Outside the city, wagons waited while more guardsmen, most likely sworn to Gravus, prepared to leave. Personally, he would have liked to ride his horse, but he also understood Gravus wanting the entire party together. None would be left behind, or given any type of preferential treatment that way. The first wagon was claimed by the lord and his retainers, and the second already was full. That left the next wagon in line, which was still empty. He climbed inside and took a seat.

He didn't have to wait long before three others joined him. Two, were fellow Bretons, though neither of them looked to be on the side of the law. One had a scar that looked like it had been caused by a flame of some sort, and a sour expression on his face. The way he walked, and held himself told Gerard that he knew how to use the two weapons on his belt. The other, looked slightly heavier and was a little shorter than the first. He also looked more like a bandit than a warrior. The final member of the group in the wagon was a Dunmer man. He wore fancy clothing, though he was well armed, and Gerard had seen him speaking with the first Breton. " Let me introduce myself. Gerard of Aldfort, knight of the order of the Raven."