18+ Dusk

Shadari kept ahead of the others, senses alert for any more brotherhood troops. She didn't think it was likely that they'd be attacked though. The scouts they'd come across hadn't been reinforced by any other troops, and unless the brotherhood were dumber than common bandits the group shouldn't see any more of the Whitescars. So, despite her perked up ears, her mind was elsewhere. Specifically, she was thinking about Jorn Blackstone. He'd escaped her in the Imperial city in Cyrodiil, and half a dozen places besides. But now, she was closer to him than she'd been in months. Her fingers itched to drive a knife into the mans throat.

Her musings were stopped by a womans voice. Elizabeths voice, specifically. "Nice weather for todays walking, don't you think?" The assassin tried to stop her irritation from showing. She succeeded, slightly. She managed to stop her tail from twitching, but her ears tilted in annoyance. That was fine though. Most humans couldn't read Khajiit at all. It sounded like the priestess wanted to talk. "Sure. Don't get used to it though. If the weather is as bad as it was in Whiterun, it's going to be a hard trip to Windhelm. And the brotherhood probably knows about us by now."

Torin flanked the group as they moved through the Rift. The trees and other foliage still had some green on them, though most of it had fallen to the forest floor in orange and red hues. The keen-eyed ranger kept his eyes open, and hand near the hilt of his sword. He didn't really expect an ambush, especially not since he and Averaine had discovered the former scouts camp. It was also probable that the Riften guard would increase the frequency of their patrols, making it difficult, at least for the Brotherhood to move through the surrounding territory.

He caught the brief exchange of words between Aliah and Salthar, on the edge of his hearing. He didn't edge closer to the pair of vampires though. Instead, he fell back further to Julius, Alice and Cilla. "How are you holding up?" He asked the trio. "The road should be easy enough, at least until we leave the Rift." He was aware that he was far from the best conversationalist among them. He kept pace with them, awaiting an answer. And keeping an eye on their surroundings.

Alice, Cilla and Julius were in the middle of the group. Everyone had formed a loose parameter around them while they themselves formed a lose triangle around Cilla. Alice was in the front, Julius was back left and Elizabeth was back right until she ran ahead to talk to Shadari. Alice moved back to her spot to keep a better eye on her sister and tried not to chuckle as Elizabeth awkwardly tried to strike up a conversation with Shadari. Alice had great respect for the Khajiit and had tried to learn from her stealth and speed but the woman simply did not like to talk to people. That's why it was so surprising when Shadari actually responded, agreeing about the nice weather but warning her that it would get harder as they got farther north. Considering her multiple trips to Windhelm with her father Alice knew that all too well. She swore that the College of Winterhold was in a warmer place than Windhelm and the College got very cold. Especially at night.

Soon after Shadari's response Torin fell back to where Alice was and asked her group how they were holding up. Alice was doing just fine. Years of marching and fighting in two armies had made long marches just as comfortable for her as a stroll in a garden. Her city outfit, despite its name and appearance, was just as well-enchanted as her battle outfit and leather bodysuit and was just fine for a long march, even if it didn't have the physical protection her suit had. Her leather jacket, knee high leather boots and striped footed leggings kept her warm while her blue dress and white apron made her look both cute and ladylike, like an obedient daughter ready to help her mother weed the garden or mop the kitchen floor. Old habits kept her alert and aware of her surroundings and Mother's Fire, her fire enchanted bow, was strung and in her left hand with a steel arrow already out. She could knock it and be ready to fire in one second or drop her bow and draw her sword in four. Cilla, for her part, was doing an excellent job keeping up. She wasn't conditioned to march like everyone else but she was strong for an eleven year old girl and the past few days had helped her get used to the pace some. The group would have to slow down for her of course but everyone was okay with that. She wouldn't be on this trip otherwise and Alice would always slow down for her.

"Hey there Torin." Alice said smiling and welcoming the opportunity to talk to him. "We're doing just fine. Cilla said she had some trouble on the first day but she seems to be doing just fine now. You doing okay?" She asked Cilla turning to her.

"Uh huh." She said. "It's a lot easier to keep up with you guys when there's not a mountain of snow on the ground. It was fun to ride on Mr. Donath's back though! He was like a big bear!"

Alice chuckled at this. "Yeah, you told me that. Just let Aliah know if you need to slow down okay?"

"I'm good Alice." Cilla said, more out of confidence than irritation but a bit of the latter.

"As for me Torin this really is just another walk in the wood. If there's one thing the Legion and the Stormcloaks do well it's train your body." She looked to her left and saw the shimmering of a lake behind some thick trees. "You know, we're pretty close to Lake Honrich. This all reminds me of the trips we used to take into the Great Forest back in Cyrodiil. I'd hunt deer with my mother and Titus or just wander the forest for hours while dad and Stephen would fish and Cilla would catch frogs. Then at night we'd gather whatever we found back at camp and have a big feast. We all learned a lot about nature and the wilds but I think my favorite part was just being with everyone. Did you ever do anything like that when you were a kid?"

Alice and Cilla replied to his question readily enough. The news that Cilla had experienced trouble during the companies first march out of Whiterun was not surprising. She could not have been used to trudging through such harsh conditions, especially not for the better part of a day. Alice, told him of how her service with both the Imperial and Stormcloak armies had prepared her for long marches. That made a certain amount of sense as well. A soldier who couldn't march well enough to keep up with the others, and be ready for battle at the end of such a trip, would be useless to their commander.

The older Psyrakon also pointed out that they were close to one of the Rifts' larger lakes, and told him of when her family lived in Cyrodiil, and went out on camping trips in the Great Forest. Then she asked him if his own youth had been similar. He wasn't bothered by the question, and shrugged. "In some regards, yes. My mother died when I was very young. It was my father who taught me most of what I know of the wilds. When he was slain in battle with a group of bandits, I took it upon myself to continue on as a ranger of the wilderness. To be honest, I prefer the silence and solitude of the forests and hills of Skyrim to the hustle and bustle of the cities"

Julius focused on the ground ahead. He wasn't really worried about traps or ambushes, but he stayed close to Alice and Cilla anyways. Just in case. Though it wasn't like she needed his protection. She was at least as good a fighter than he. Torin caught up to them, and checked in, asking how they were holding up.

The girls reported that they weren't having any trouble, and Alice and Torin swapped stories of their childhoods. Julius kept silent, not wanting to interrupt. Besides, he'd never been one for the outdoors, preferring to remain inside the walls of the imperial city. He shrugged, moving his shield into a more comfortable position, and adjusted his grip on the leather strap. He looked over his shoulder, and spotted Donath.

He slipped away from Torin and the girls, back to the sturdy warrior. He'd heard that Donath, Torin and Averaine had fought some brotherhood soldiers in Riftens' ratway. And he'd noticed him bandaging his leg when the three had returned to the inn. "How's your wound? It looked pretty nasty."

Now without anything to say to Averaine, Shork pulled back a bit in his position within the company, away from everyone else who were for the most part in conversation. With no such entertainment available to him the mercenary instead opted to keep his eyes on their surroundings. Over time he grew weary of the repetitive sight of the forest's splendour. By the time this mission was over Shork imagined he'd want to burn down the first batch of shrubbery he saw, and cook something unsavoury on it until the meat was charred beyond consumption. Years of living on Solstheim's almost-barren ash plains had desensitized him to the wonder and awe of having vibrant, colorful surroundings. He had eyes for only one colour, which was red; be it familiar volcanic ash beneath his feet, or the blood of his foes in a foreign land.

Keeping his head down now to avoid the sordid glint of the foliage above, his boredom drove the Orc to remove his armguards and ungracefully scratch his nails across the chestplate he wore. His nails had in recent history been growing at an abnormal rate, possibly as a result of his affliction. The Bonemould shell that encased him was normally durable enough to allow Shork to whittle away his nails against it, although it was occasionally chipped when he attempted the activity when only a short time had elapsed since one of his transformations. Today however the mercenary suffered no damage to his apparel, and soon his talon-like nails had been filed away to a length reminiscent of the average Orc.

During this period of time the mercenary had been thinking about their destination. While he had seen many of his companions fight already and was impressed by their skills, it had been made clear that the Brotherhood was raising an army- to underestimate the Whitescar's might now would be a fool's gambit. A month ago Shork would have jumped at the oppurtunity to face an army of foes, allowing the creature within him to take control and tear through large clusters of fleshy opponents with little restraint, especially if his adversaries slaughter was easily justified; the adrenaline such an act would give him was one of Shork's secret pleasures. Now however, after his 'defeat' in Whiterun, the Orc was doubtful of his strength, even in his beast form.

Acknowledging that a magi had caused his downfall by manipulating his simpler mind, Shork began to contemplate whether he could reliably control his body once transformed, offering him a slight defence against any Illusion magic. He had controlled himself before -bloodlust or enebriation was what caused his renegade transformations- and in doing so he could think more strategically, at the cost of the primal rage his bestial counterpart could inexplicably draw upon.

All of this was purely speculation however. The Orc had no idea as to how the fellowship would proceed upon entering Eastmarch; given their number and the skills many in the group possessed it seemed likely that a more covert approach would be chosen. Ignoring the brief well of dissapointment in his stomach at this conclusion, Shork tore his mind away from these thoughts and assessed his company.

Many had grouped together in pairs and were conversing. The two Psyrakon sisters were stood at the groups centre with the young legionnaire, and the healer girl was surprisingly taking her chances with Shadari. His attention eventually rested on the two Nightwalkers at the head of the group, who from a distanse sounded as though they were debating current events.
Adding to his pace in order to catch up to the vampiric pair, the Orc stopped a few feet behind them and made a coughing sound after a break in their discussion. "I was wondering how we intend to proceed, once we set foot on Whitescar land." the mercenary asked Salthar, keeping pace behind him and Aliah as he spoke.

Donath, in his usual spot at the rear of the group, nodded a greeting to Julius, glad for the company. He snorted and waved the young mans' concern away. "Bah. I've cut myself worse shaving, lad." As if to counter this declaration, his still healing wound twinged. But it didn't concern the tough Nord too much. He'd suffered worse in his service to the Stormcloaks, and would probably collect greater scars before his life reached its end. "How's yerself holding up? I noticed the little lass saw what Salthar did to our, ah...unfortunate friend, a couple days ago."

In truth, Donath wasn't troubled in the least by the scouts death. The man had had it coming, in his opinion. What did trouble him, was how quickly the vampire had killed the man. The scout may have been stubborn, and filled with zeal for the cause, but a few hours of interrogation could have broken him. Just because he didn't like to talk about it, didn't mean Donath didn't know how to extract information from a prisoner. He and his comrades had done it countless times, when they captured Stormcloak deserters, or Imperial spies.

To him, it seemed like Salthar had been worried about what the scout might tell the others. Almost like the vampire knew something the rest of them didn't. Ever since they'd entered the Rift,the vampire seemed less the aloof advisor, and more the cold killer Donath had first taken him for when they'd met over a year ago. He shook his head, brushing that thought aside. Perhaps the stresses of leading their little group were starting to affect him. Satisfied with the explanation, he shifted his axe on his shoulder, and continued to trudge along.

"Sure. Don't get used to it though. If the weather is as bad as it was in Whiterun, it's going to be a hard trip to Windhelm. And the brotherhood probably knows about us by now." Surprisingly, Shadari decided to talk to her. Even if the khajiit womans' response was rather curt. It seemed the assassin was distancing herself from the group even more than usual. Elizabeth thought she knew why. It was no secret Shadari made it clear that she was going to kill the mage, Blackthorn. The problem was, Elizabeth wasn't sure it was possible for a single person, even someone like Shadari, to eliminate him. And while the two of them weren't exactly friends, she didn't want to see her die.

"Shadari...I know you feel that you have to face this Blackthorn on your own. But you might need my help...and I know that might not seem like much, but surely a little magical assisstance is better than none." She awaited the Khajiit's response with baited breath. It was just as likely that Shadari would outright reject her offer, as accept it.

The orcish mercenary, Shork, made his way to where Aliah and Salthar walked, and though he expected the altmer vampiress to protest his rather cold dismissal of her concerns, she was silent. For now, at least. The orc was curious to know about how the group would proceed through the brotherhoods' territory. Salthar glanced at Aliah, and seeing no suggestions forthcoming, turned his attention back to Shork. "Very carefully." He replied, before elaborating, "up to now, we've been focused on getting into the brotherhoods lands. I intended to push straight through to Windhelm, originally, but I received some new information, while in Riften. There's a small village, near the border of eastmarch. I have contacts there, and I believe it would be a good place to restock our supplies, and prepare for a final push on Windhelm."

He glanced back at the others. "Of course, I've not brought this up to our companions, and I'd appreciate it if both of you were discreet." He turned to Aliah, wondering if she'd insist on telling the others about his reasons. The orc, he could probably depend upon. After all, he was on the vampires' payroll. "Not about our stop at the village, but who I'll be meeting there. I fear not all of our companions will agree with my reasons." It seemed to him, anyways, that the young soldier, Julius, was more suspicious of his actions, lately. "I'll inform the others of our unscheduled stop at camp tonight." With that, he glanced at the sky. For once, it seemed to be clear, with only a few wispy white clouds gliding across the sky. The almost leafless branches of nearby trees moved slightly, caressed by a light breeze, that was undoubtedly cold, and probably foreshadowed more snow.

Though it took her a while, Elizabeth finally got to the real reason she'd decided to talk to Shadari. More offers of help. The assassin stopped herself from snarling a response-barely. Taking a deep breath, she looked at the healer. Her offer was probably genuine, but that didn't do much to help the irritation she felt. "No. I don't need your help, and I definitely don't want it." The younger woman opened her mouth, to reply, but the assassin interrupted. "Besides, from what I've seen so far, you'd only get yourself killed going up against Blackstone."

Despite her attempt to calm herself, the words that came out of her mouth were more hostile than she intended. Not that it wasn't true, of course. Shadari didn't know a whole lot about magic-she'd never had much use for it, in her line of work. She lengthened her stride, hoping the healer wouldn't follow. If anything, that would lead to a fight between the two of them, and while she didn't feel much for the girl, there was no point saying things both of them would regret later.

Now well ahead of the group, she slowed down, taking in her surroundings. They were still in the Rift, with plenty of trees making up the surroundings. Most of them had long since lost their leaves, and the cold wind reminded her that winter was still strong, even in the more mild hold. She glanced over her shoulder, noticing the orc mercenary talking with Aliah and Salthar. She wondered briefly what the conversation was about, before shrugging, and continuing on ahead.

The bluntness of Shadaris' response surprised and hurt her, even though she'd suspected the Khajiit would say something along those lines. Even though she'd been part of their fellowship for over a year now, Shadari had never been a 'team player.' Elizabeth opened her mouth, determined to make her point. Before she could speak, the assassin cut her off again. "Besides, from what I've seen so far, you'd only get yourself killed going up against Blackstone."

That shut her up. Besides being insulting, it was probably true. She didn't know much about the mysterious mage Shadari was so determined to kill, but what little she did know, was that Blackstone was powerful. And he'd thrown in with the Brotherhood, which meant he didn't care what or who he killed. Rather than chasing after the Khajiit, she kept her distance, head down, lost in thought. 'I need to become more powerful. Not just to prove Shadari wrong, but because when we do get to Windhelm the others will need me.'

She glanced towards Salthar. The elf was talking with both the Orcish mercenary and Aliah, but she was too far away to make out what, exactly, they were talking about. Deciding to wait until the group made camp to talk to Salthar she looked around, noticing that Lythare was on her own, and her falcon companion was nowhere in sight. Approaching the wood elf, she asked, "Where's Aethos? I haven't seen him since we left this morning."

Averaine watched Shork meet with Aliah and Salthar, leaving the vampire knight with his thoughts. Most of the group were taking the time spent marching to speak among themselves. For his part, Averaine was perfectly happy to keep to himself. Though their mission was important, the peacefulness of the woods was calming. The lack of Brotherhood soldiers trying to kill them was definitely an improvement.

Shadaris' familiar voice drew his attention, and he noticed her dismissing Elizabeth. The young healer quailed under the Khajiits' words, and had the wisdom to not follow her as the assassin stalked ahead of the group. He wondered if he ought to offer the girl a few words of comfort, but she didn't look like she was in need of comforting. She'd come a long way since the group had first met in Falkreath over a year ago.

The fellowship continued on its' way, and the day wore on. Eventually, Averaines' began to search for suitable places for them to make camp. With Torin near the rear of the group, the Breton decided to take the responsibility upon himself. Taking the lead, he began to search for a clearing in the trees, a short distance from the main path. It didn't take long before he found a good place, ringed by thick trunked trees, and the ground was mostly flat, save for a few boulders at the edge of clearing, and among the nearby shrubbery. "Over here." He called to the others. "Might as well stop here for the night. It makes little sense to push on through the dark."

Aliah was concerned more and more by Salthars' secrecy. The reasons he gave for keeping the others in the dark weren't exactly satisfactory. Her fellow altmer had implied he knew more about the brotherhood than he was revealing, which was...troubling, to say the least. But a fight out in the open wouldn't be in the groups best interest at the moment. Getting rid of the brotherhood had to be their priority. So she would go along with Salthar, for now, anyways.

The sun was dipping below the western horizon when Averaine, who'd ventured ahead, called the companions over. She agreed with his assessment that it made little sense to push on through the night. They were approaching the border of the Rift, and tonights stop would probably be the last safe camp they participated in. She took her leave of Salthar and Shork, turning back to Alice and Cilla, fussing over them as the rest of the group began relieving themselves of their packs, and searching for materials for a fire.

"How are you two holding up?" She asked. "I know you were looking forwards to having a second day in Riften. Maybe we can rest up when we reach the village Salthar mentioned. Do you need anything? " She turned her attention to the younger Psyrakon. "Cilla, are you warm enough?" She knew she was fussing over the pair, but she had given her word to look after them. And she'd spent most of the journey from Riften at the front of the group.

"How's yerself holding up? I noticed the little lass saw what Salthar did to our, ah...unfortunate friend, a couple days ago." The reminder of Salthars bruthal execution of the brotherhood scout had Julius scowling at the vampires back. Of course, keeping the man alive probably would have been a bad idea, especially since Torin and the others had come across more scouts in the ratway. "I'm fine. But I worry about Cilla. She's still young, and seeing an execution would leave a mark on anyone."

The rest of the day passed in mostly silence, and the group covered a good amount of ground, heading towards eastmarch, and windhelm. Julius kept to himself after his short conversation with Donath. A short time later, Averaine called out, mentioning that he'd found a suitable place to camp. He shrugged his shield off his back, onto the carpet of dead leaves, and went about collecting dead branches for the fire. He overheard Aliah mentioning a stop at a village. There was a handful of villages scattered around the borders of the rift and eastmarch. He wasn't sure which was meant, but he could guess whos' idea it was.

He turned his attention to Salthar, who was standing off by himself. He dumped his armful of kindling by the center of the pit, and approached. It wasn't that he had a problem with stopping before one final push on windhelm. He was annoyed by the vampire making decisions and simply expecting everyone else to abide by them. Planting his hands on his hips, he stood before Salthar. "What are you playing at? The more we delay, the stronger the brotherhood gets. Or is there a reason you want to stop by this village? One that you don't want the rest of us to know about?"

"What are you playing at? The more we delay, the stronger the brotherhood gets. Or is there a reason you want to stop by this village? One that you don't want the rest of us to know about?" Salthar turned on the Imperial, frowning. "I suppose you'd have us march blindly into the Brotherhoods stronghold?"Julius had never truly trusted Salthar, though why he was making his misgiving known now, was odd. He stepped closer to the young Imperial, "we are nearing the end of our task. Do not stray from the course now." To the others, he said "have I not guided you this far without leading you to harm? This quest may be dangerous, but no decision was made rashly. I ask that you trust my judgement, until the threat of the Brotherhood is ended."

Torin appreciated Averaine taking the lead in the hunt for a place to camp. Though Donath and the Psyrakons were capable enough, the experienced ranger wanted to keep an eye to their rear and flanks. A short time after the vampire knight left the group he called back, reporting that he'd found a suitable area.

The area was a small clearing, much like the one they'd stopped at after leaving Whiterun. Torin hung back as the others relieved themselves of their packs, and Julius began scouring the ground for firewood. He began to wonder who would be taking the watch, when the young Imperial soldier dropped an armful of branches, and stormed over to Salthar. Frowning, Torin watched as Julius accused the vampire of having ulterior motives.

The sudden outburst was unexpected, but it set Torin to thinking. The vampire had lead them loyally, but on the other hand, he was a vampire. And the ranger had heard tales of his activities before the fellowship had been formed. Whatever else he was, Salthar Vivarian was not an avatar of good. The sorcerer replied, including the others in his response. Torin ventured over, and said "you ask that we trust you, and you have not lead us astray so far. But how can we keep our faith in you when you keep information from us?"

Donath let out a sigh of releif as he dropped his pack and leaned back against the trunk of a large oak tree. Despite his words, the leg wound he'd taken from the scout still hurt. Being on the move for most of the day hadn't helped. Leaving his axe and pack by the tree, he set about creating a small firepit, which Julius dumped an armful of kindling beside.

He glanced up as Julius suddenly accused Salthar of hiding things from the rest of the group. Frowning, the stout warrior kept a cautious eye on the argument as he started the fire. A few moments later, Torin joined the confrontation, seeming to side with the Imperial lad. Concerned, Donath left the fire, and walked over to the trio. Arguments among a group, especially a close-knit fellowship like this one, could cause problems further down the road.

"Hey now. There's no need for accusations, lad. Nobody here argued with 'im when he started leadin' us. We start fightin' among ourselves now, the Brotherhood wins. What do ye say we finish this, then argue about secrets later, eh?"

After Averaine had led them to a campsite, Shork dropped what supplies he had been carrying at the centre of the clearing. Feeling nothing but apathy towards the idea of helping establish a fire, the mercenary instead plucked a bottle of ale from his supplies and wandered around to the back of a nearby tree. He drunk down the alcohol quickly, greedy for its empty satisfaction. Once the beverage was finished he threw it randomly out into the wilderness, and returned to his companions.

A confrontation of sorts had begun between Julius the Legionnaire and his employer, with the former uncharacteristically accosting the Nightwalker. "-The more we delay, the stronger the brotherhood gets. Or is there a reason you want to stop by this village? One that you don't want the rest of us to know about?" It had become apparent during the weeks spent in his fellowship that the Altmer was no ordinary individual; his affliction aside. To launch a campaign against the Brotherhood was obviously not an unmotivated act. The vampire clearly had something to hide, and whilst the mercenary had seen little reason to doubt the Mer, he had conflicting thoughts on whether to inform the others of Salthar's rendezvous at the settlement. I fear not all of our companions will agree with my reasons.

Others appeared to weigh in their views, the ranger Torin challenging the Nightwalker in turn, and Donath attempting to broker peace whilst others looked on. Shork remained quiet in his corner of the clearing, disliking this previously untraceable tension within the group. After several moments he turned and quietly departed the fellowships camp once more, the voices of his companions gradually fading away, much to his content.


The Orc wandered through the gradually receding woodlands, feeling glad to know that the Fall Forest would soon be behind them. Any animals within his vicinity quickly darted away, sensing the beast within him. In time, he felt something watching him from a distance, but the ale had hampered his senses, making it impossible to track the source. In time the presence seemed to pass, and Shork's defensive instincts died down. Now he turned back towards the direction he had come from, hoping that the argument back at the camp would be resolved by now.

As he did so the Orc was suddenly knocked off his feet by a fast-moving object, falling forwards into the dirt. Caught by surprise, he stumbled to his feet and drew his mace, fearing he had been discovered by a Brotherhood mongrel.
Yet he felt no adrenaline after the sudden attack, and no creature was present for him to confront. In fact it was the enviroment that felt different now; the tree's at this edge of the forest were now ominously looming over him where they had modestly shrouded him before. The trunk of one oak tree had been drained of its colour, and to Shork's sudden alarm began to move as though conscious.

A root broke out of the earth at Shork's foot, fluidly wrapping around his ankle before he could even react. Almost tripping in his shock, it took several moments for the Orc to respond, and his chosen response was to bear his mace down on the unlikely restraint. Before the weapon struck home his wielding arm was caught by another root, which wrapped itself so tightly around his limb that it triggered a violent spasm, forcing him to drop his weapon. Shortly after his remaining limbs had also been constricted, and with a sudden creak the sentient roots had plucked him from the ground, rendering the mercenary immobile.

Struggling in his confines to no avail, the Orc quickly assessed his situation. The black tree was a foreign adversary that he had no knowledge of, and he couldn't understand its motives, for now it had become rigid once more, uninterested in its captive. Looking down, Shork saw his mace lay on the floor below, out of reach. He looked up again to see if there was anything to assist him... and saw a figure, clearly aware of his presence, stood metres away.

They wore hooded black robes that concealed their identity. Emblazoned on the front of the robes was a symbol; a blossomed tree etched in gold. Shork was at a loss for words.
"Wyran-Orsim" said the figure, revealing a dialect that helped Shork identify them as a male Dunmer. The Mer's use of the orcish tongue was surprising. He hadn't heard the words of his own kind for years, yet the elf spoke with a clear confidence. From what he could decipher however, it was clear that it was his Lycanthropy being referred to.

He spoke in standard Tamrielic in response, not in the mood to humour the Mer's linguistic skills. "If this is your doing-" he gestured backwards towards the tree with his head "-then I'd appreciate it if you call off this bastard tree, before I claw my way out and forcibly arrange your limbs".
The elf gave a pompous sigh, seemingly unimpressed by the threat. They spoke once more, reverting to Tamrielic. "Like the rest of your race, crude and uncivilised". He began to approach the tree and its captive. "What were you doing in Riften, Lycan?" the Dunmer said with an adamant calm, not looking up at the Orc.

Shork gave a low growl before responding. Strangely he now felt compelled to talk, now feeling weary of his situation. "I walk among those seeking to destroy the Whitescar Brotherhood". The Dunmer nodded, still not directly looking at the mercenary. "A noble goal for such a sordid being, and one that serves this province well." They began to pace around the tree again, still contemplating this information. "But a foolish goal at that."

The Orc blurted out something before he could stop himself. "I am in service to Salthar Vivarian!" He gasped, realising the Mer was somehow influencing his mind.
The Dunmer stopped pacing as that name was heard. For the first time, he looked directly at Shork, and the mercenary could see the elf's face; their skin was abnormally pale, and his eyes gave off an intense crimson glow. A Nightwalker for sure, but different to the ones who were accompanying him in the fellowship.

Though he seemed to be pleased with this news, it did not show on the vampire's face. "Well, that is most fortunate for you. Vivarian's conquests have proved most beneficial to us in the past, and I doubt this will prove different".
The Dunmer produced a low-pitched hissing noise and then turned his back on the tree, slowly walking away. The roots constricting the Orc receded, and he unprofessionally dropped to the floor. Grabbing his mace immediately Shork jumped to his feet, furious with the elf for manipulating his mind. "No more tricks, Nightwalker!" he shouted, and charged the Mer. He wouldn't allow the Fellowship's mission to be compromised by this potential enemy.

Before he could close the gap however the Dunmer spun round, and his hood fell away in the motion, revealing a bald head marked with incomprehensible glyphs. His eyes now shone with a terrifying radiance, and the mercenary stopped in his tracks, caught up in a terrified awe of the vampire.
Even now, the elf's voice remained equable. "I am no threat to your group. The Brotherhood's downfall would be a long-due enactment of justice, and my people will be glad to hear of your efforts". Shork found himself believing the Mer now, without the same sense of manipulation he had subconsciously felt before clouding his thoughts. Any desire to fight, to learn left him. Now he simply wished to return to the camp and its warm fire, and forget about this vampire and his sorcery.

He gave a grunt, and then began to walk away, stopping momentarily to speak aloud to his acquaintance. "If our mission becomes common knowledge, I will hunt you down". The vampire nodded. "And if the day comes when the Brotherhood is smitten, we will meet again. Your talents could be useful to the Coven". With that, the Dunmer departed as well, headed in a different direction, leaving the mercenary at a loss for words. After a few moments he gave a grunt of derision, and made his way back to the Fellowship's camp. Once he arrived at the clearing Shork moved directly to the fire, avoiding eye contact with any of his companions. There was much on his mind.

The group stopped for the night, and Elizabeth rubbed her arms, trying, and failing to keep the cold at bay. Some of the others set about lighting a fire, and others dropped their things and set about preparing the camp for the night. Before long though, Julius had confronted Salthar about his plans, and Torin had joined in on the imperial soldiers' side. She was surprised by the ranger speaking up- he always seemed so quiet and withdrawn. The orc mercenary stormed off on his own, but Elizabeth wasn't concerned about him. She'd hoped to speak with Salthar ,and explore at least a little more magical theory.

That wouldn't happen if the others continuously dogged him about his motives. Donath had stepped up to the group, and was trying to calm the ranger and soldier down. Elizabeth made her way to a spot between Salthar,Donath,Torin and Julius,crossing her arms. "Stop it. This isn't helping anyone. Fighting among ourselves is pointless. It's what the brotherhood wants, like Donath said." She glared at the three others, transferring it to those that hadn't picked a side in the argument. A clear warning. She usually didn't confront people, but mistrust and accusations were just as dangerous as weapons.

Salthars reply didn't really surprise Julius. The vampire liked his secrets, and wasn't going to give them up easily. It looked like he wasn't alone in his suspicions. Torin came over, sideing with Julius, but before the argument started, both Donath and Elizabeth came over, and broke it up. He shot the imperial healer a confused glance. Sure, he'd seen her talking with Salthar from time to time, but he hadn't suspsected she'd be ignoring his darker side. But it was clear from the cautious silence from the others, continuing the argument now wouldn't prove anything. Shrugging, he turned from the group and settled down beside Alice and Cilla, nodding to Aliah as he did so.