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    Andre Marek

    You can run, but you'll only die tired...
    The Aetherium Forge, source of ultimate power for the Dwemer of old. Allowing them to create objects thought to be impossible by the other races of Tamriel, some of which still function to this day. Such was the might of the Aetherium Forge that the Dwemer agreed it could not be controlled by any one city. To solve this, the Dwemer forged a crest and split it into four pieces, one for each of the major cities in Skyrim. Without all four pieces of the crest, the doors to the Forge could not be opened. Over time, each of the four cities desired control of the Forge for themselves and eventually this desire developed into an all out war between the four cities. The conflict was quick but bloody; both sides had created mighty weapons of war and all were used to great effect and each of the cities suffered greatly. Because of the power afforded them by the Aetherium Forge, none of the cities could gain an advantage over the other and so by the end of the war, not one city was able to lay claim to the Forge in their weakened states.

    It isn't often that such a war goes unnoticed and this one was no exception. The Nords of Skyrim, looking to capitalize on the chaos wrought among the Dwemer, attacked the four cities, driving back the weakened defenders like never before. The Nordic rulers sought the crest that would allow them to use the forge but what they didn't know was that after the war among the cities, the four Dwemer kings agreed to bury entrance to the forge and strike its location from all of their texts so that it would never be the source of such conflict again. And so it stayed buried for hundreds of years...

    ...Until a little known scholar published a book detailing the secret of the lost Aetherium Forge. Taron Dreth, the author of the book has put out a plea for assistance in mounting a quest to uncover the final resting place of the four pieces of the Crest as well as the Forge itself. Now, would-be adventurers are beginning to arrive in Markarth to take up Dreth on his promise of fame, riches, and adventure. What they don't know about are Dreths less than honorable motives. Can a ragtag group of adventurers uncover a secret that has been lost to the ages and will they manage to survive the ordeals set before them.


    Rules
    1. No Godmodding. Characters considered overpowered or with weapons, armor, items, etc that could be seen as such will not be accepted.
    2. This will be a mature roleplay. That means that anything goes including sex, gore, swearing, etc. So if you aren't comfortable with that, find another RP.
    3. If you can't post regularly and don't want to see this RP through to the end, FIND YOURSELF ANOTHER RP... (whispering) or I'll find you...
    4. I will resolve any arguments between members taking part in the RP.
    5. No scripting other peoples characters unless expressly okay'd by that person.
    6. At certain points during the story, ie when the group must travel a large distance and little interaction will be possible, I will narrate the group forward for the sake of keeping the story moving. Exceptions will be made to characters if the owner wishes to write their own way there.
    7. You may have up to two characters if you wish and so long as you can handle it.
    8. If I am unfamiliar with your work then I may ask for a writing sample.
    CAST

    Andre Marek as
    Hector Brandr
    TheShadedOne as Havarra
    Madrar as Veridas Ashheart & Jeth La'ralle
    CapObvious as Falco Loran & Ruslan Mirell
    Simus as
    Elspeth Adrastia
    Blackdoom59 as Nisvund V'orum
     
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    Andre Marek

    You can run, but you'll only die tired...
    The sun beat down on Hector Brandr's neck as he strode along the road at the bottom of the Karth River canyon towards Markarth. It was a brilliantly sunny day, with the water glinting off the whitecaps frothing about in the Karth river to his left and a slight breeze kept the sun from becoming too hot. Overall, it was a perfect day to travel if one had too, however, Hector couldn't wait to reach Markarth and get himself a cold brew. He quickened his pace in anticipation.

    Three days ago he'd been exploring a Nordic ruin in The Pale, Southwest of Dawnstar. When he'd emerged from the ruin to head back to Dawnstar for some food and rest, he'd found a notice posted on the bulletin outside the Jarls hall; It was a job notice requesting help from able bodied adventurers. Apparently some scholar or another had found something of significance regarding the Dwemer and needed someone else to retrieve it for him. There was a reward posted at the bottom in the amount of one thousand septims to anyone willing to undertake the quest. Those wishing to take part were to gather at the Silverblood Inn in Markarth and wait for further instructions. It was too good to pass up, naturally, and Hector had set out that afternoon, after stocking up on the essentials.

    By now he was within sight of the famous stone city and could already imagine the taste of a cold beer. Within minutes he was passing the outlying farms that sat next to the river, then the stables, and then up the steps to the tall, metal gates which were wide open but guarded by four guards. Each man was clad in light chainmail and a padded leather gambeson and were busy scanning the locals, both coming and going, who were on their way to the market or their respective business. More out of habit than any attempt at stealth, Hector blended with the crowd as he passed under the stone arch and into the city proper. The guards of Markarth were notorious for hassling outsiders, usually with warnings about not staying out late or asking too many questions, and someone like him, a rather rough looking wanderer, tended to draw the wrong sort of attention.

    Gazing over the heads of the locals, Hector made for the sign hanging above the Silverblood Inn's entrance and pushed open the doors. Inside, the Inn wasn't very busy so he had no problems finding a vacant table to stake a claim too. Pulling up one of the chairs for his feet, Hector got about the business of ordering an ale and some food.

    When the maid came with his drink, he took a large swig, leaning back in his chair contentedly, "Ahhh, but that hits the spot. Washes away the dust from the road." He said, smiling at the woman, "Listen, I'm supposed to be meeting someone here but, aha, I don't know what they look like. Any chance you could help me out?" He removed the folded notice from his pocket and showed it to her.

    "You don't give me much to go on," she said reaching for the note. "Ahh, well maybe not as little as I thought," she glanced at the parchment, "I've seen a few of these posted around the city here. I'm not sure who's it is exactly but I saw a man, a mercenary I think, leave one at the bar. If you want I could point him out to you if he comes in while you're here." She smiled when he nodded and sauntered off towards the bar.

    Hector puzzled over the parchment for a second longer then shrugged and took another swig of beer. it seemed that he was resigned to wait on his prospective host, not that he was opposed to some relaxation. He raised his mug to the bar maid, indicating he would have another.

     

    CapObvious

    A Rotten Scroungeral
    Falco's eyes gazed into the inn's fire as the world moved around him in a blur. He had been sitting in that chair for a few hours, his jacket draped over the back of it, with a empty mug in his hand. His bow and quiver, along with the claw and it's holster, lied between his legs and by his feet respectively. His thumbs traced over the metal handle absentmindedly as his eyes looked deeper into the dancing embers, his mind going to a different place.

    He thought on the information he had gathered about this job that he was jumping into. Stories about this dwemer forge, it's location lost to time, that had brought it's creators to war over it's control. He had read the book that was written by their benefactor, this Dreth character, on the carriage ride to Markarth from the rift. It was interesting enough, gave him a bit of an idea of the weight this location carried, despite it being lost to history. The wonders it was capable of making...He wondered what he would do if and when he finally got a chance to set his eyes on it himself...

    Then the loud creaking moan of the inn's doors opening jerked his attention back to his surroundings.

    He finally came to, as the door opened and closed again behind him. He sighed, his body stiff as if he had just woken up from a deep sleep. He shook his head, blinking himself back to the present as he reassessed the room around him.

    The folks who had been there when he arrived were long gone, and the room had become sparse. He turned about the other direction, his eyes tracing over the people who now inhabited the stone room. His eyes rested upon the newest entrant. A nord from the look of him. He glanced over the man's gear, and noticed a few things about him.

    From what he could see of the man, he sensed him to be some sort of adventurer, maybe just making a stop before he delved into another cave or pursued some great fortune. His eyes moved over the mans gear, and his eyes stopped on the bow. His brow furrowed a bit as he studied it. Well, whatever this man was, he wasn't an avid archer. The bow hadn't seen that much use, and he seemed to carry a small amount of arrows in that quiver. He no doubt relied more heavily on the sword on his hip.

    As he studied the man further, he noticed the paper he was showing the barmaid. His eyes widened a bit, as he reached in his jacket pocket as it hung from the chair, and produced a similar looking notice. He looked back to the man, then cracked a sly smirk.

    Looks like the first of his partners had arrived, and was waiting for their new employer like he was. Falco stood to his feet slowly, his legs aching a bit from sitting still as long as he had. He pulled the leather jacket back on, and slung the quiver around his arm again, taking his bow in his other hand as he moved toward the nord, taking a seat next to him. He placed the mug he had been toying with on the counter, and got the maid's attention. She looked to him, smiling a bit. "Ah, so you're finally back among the living eh?" He looked a bit confused, before his mind caught up to what she was saying. He chuckled softly. "More or less. Need some more liquid inspiration before I go back to my own little cut of Aetherius." Falco looked over to the Nord, and nudged him with his elbow. "What about you, my friend? What's brought you here all geared up and ready to go?"

    As the Imperial attempted to make conversation, another figure slipped in the door behind them. Falco didn't look back, his attention on the nord. The heavily armored figure made his way slowly over to another table, further in the corner of the inn, and leaned back against the stone wall. The figure's eyes lit up beneath the hood, fixed upon the two as they spoke about what brought them here, his ears perked to see if they were the ones he was looking for.
     

    Madrar

    The Shadow in the Dark.
    "Ah, Markarth, the city of silver and stone." The white haired, dunmer man making his way towards the previously mentioned city, said, memories sparkling in his red eyes. "How I've missed you." The elfs companion, a thin, dark haired, breton man, replied with a somewhat less than enthusiastic grunt. Jeth Laralle, glanced at his companion. " What an underwhelming reaction. It's almost as if you don't want to be here, Veridas, my friend." He said as they approached the stone steps leading to the bronze gates of the city. A quartet of guards stood near the gates, keeping a close eye on the people entering and leaving the city.

    The pair passed through the gates, under the scrutiny of the guardsmen, Jeth nodding and smiling at the Nords, his surly companion doing his best to avoid their gazes. Once inside, the assassin responded, "I don't want to be here. But I don't have the option of turning the coven down." He shot a curious look at his companion. "Why, exactly, are you coming along, anyways? From what the notice said, it's just another expedition into some dwemer ruin. Every few months, some fool adventurer goes in there and is never heard of again."

    Jeth smiled, as if the answer should be obvious. "For the adventure, of course! How many opportunities does one get to examine such a place? In the company of other fine adventurers." At Veridas' disbelieving smirk, he shrugged, "of course, the market for dwemer artifacts is booming right now. Particularly in Cyrodiil." Veridas sighed and shook his head, having suspected such a reason for his friends presence. " I might have guessed. Come on, the notice said to wait in the Silverblood inn." He nodded towards the building. "I'm not sure who's leading this expedition, or why the coven wants me on it, but I'd rather not be late."

    The pair made their way inside the Silverblood inn, and took seats at one of the empty tables scattered about the common room. Shortly after they took their seat, a barmaid rushed over. "Can I get you anything?"

    "Mead." Veridas said, barely paying attention to the girl. He'd noticed a pair of men that did not look like the typical patrons. One had the rugged look of an adventurer, perhaps fresh from the road. The other, had the look of a ranger,or perhaps a wanderer of sorts. Meanwhile, Jeth ordered a glass of wine, and sent the girl off with a charming smile and a wink. The dark elf turned back to his friend. "And now we wait."

    "Yes," the assassin agreed, "now we wait."
     

    TheShadedOne

    The Angry One
    Havarra slipped past the group of Nord gate guards without much trouble. It wasn't that they weren't paying attention, but the Khajiit had gotten very good at getting into places she wasn't supposed to be. It came with being one of the best thieves in the business. But thieving wasn't the reason she'd come to Markarth. Well, not the primary reason, anyways. If some fool left their valuables in plain sight, she wouldn't try too hard to resist such an invitation. Her purpose in the city promised a much bigger payout than some jewels, or maybe a few coin purses worth of gold.

    She'd been in Whiterun, 'liberating' the Battle-Born clan of some of their more valuable possessions. After meeting with her fence in the Bannered Mare, she caught sight of an interesting notification posted just outside the inn. Some dwemer researcher was looking for a group of adventurers to delve into one of their cities, looking for some sort of crest. Normally, Havarra would have scoffed and kept walking. She knew a little about the ancient dwarven cities. Enough to know that anyone looking for treasure was more likely to end up skewered by traps, or eaten by those creepy little creatures, that the guards kept mentioning they'd seen near caves.

    But the reward at the bottom of the notice had drawn her in. A thousand gold promised to whoever joined up with the expedition. An amount like that could keep her belly full and blades sharp for months. And, aside from the Battle-born job, thieving opportunities were running low. The thieves guild in Riften had made it clear they wouldn't put up with competition. And guards outside that city were getting more and more vigilant. And the peasants who lived in the outlying villages hardly had anything worth stealing. So the khajiit woman had taken a carriage to Markarth, hoping to be brought in on the job. She was no real fighter, though. Sure, she could fend off guards if she had to, or the common street thug, but in an actual battle, she wasn't sure how useful she'd be.

    On the other hand, there was sure to be plenty of heavily armed, and armoured, rocks for brains, mercenaries signing up for the trip. All she had to do was let them chop through whatever blocked the path to the treasures. And if a few died, well, she could always take her pick of their equipment...or gold. And, she was sure dwarven ruins were full of trinkets that could fit inside a pocket or belt pouch. Surely, no one would blame her if she made off with a small fortune of dwemer riches?

    She freed herself from the knot of people, mostly farmers and merchants, coming to the market to trade, and looked around. If she remembered right, her employer wanted everyone to meet at the Silver Blood inn. The biggest, and probably the cleanest, tavern in the city. It wasn't hard to find the place, just through the main gate, and a short distance from the market. Though her fingers itched at the sight of so many merchants, with bulging coin purses, and silver jewelery out on display, she sternly reminded herself of her purpose. Getting chased out of the city by the guard wouldn't get her paid.

    She pushed into the dimly lit inn, and was surprised by how empty it was. A few drunks sat at the bar, not counting a couple of men who looked like they were there the same reason she was. She took her time getting to her table of choice, looking for exits and threats. Another pair, a dark elf and what looked like a breton, sat at a table, one looking more dangerous than the other. As she'd guessed, the inn had only one visible exit-the same way Havarra had entered. A door off to the side probably lead to the rooms, and another set of doors at the rear probably held the kitchen. As for the patrons, including the four she'd seen already, no one seemed to recognize her. Satisfied that she was safe, at least for now, she took a seat with her back to the wall and a clear view of the common room. She ordered a glass of water, when the serving girl came over, ignoring the annoyed look she received in return. Havarra wanted to have a clear mind when her employer walked in, if he wasn't in the place already.
     

    Andre Marek

    You can run, but you'll only die tired...
    Hector had only just brought his second mug to his lips when he noticed the man near the fireplace stand up. The man, an Imperial he thought, glanced his way as he stood and gathered his things, which had been resting on the floor beside his chair. The bow had a strange metal piece attached to it which hung out in front of the grip and appeared to be some sort of aiming device. He also picked up a strange hooked device as well but Hector didn't get a good look at it before the man began walking towards him.

    Setting the mug back on the table, Hector feigned not paying attention as the man sat down beside him. Folding his arms, he tried to look unapproachable but it had no effect on the man who simply pulled out a chair and sat down beside him. The barmaid gave him a quip about rejoining the living to which the man replied, "More or less. Need some more liquid inspiration before I go back to my own little cut of Aetherius." Before nudging Hector with his elbow, "What about you, my friend? What's brought you here all geared up and ready to go?" Hector immediately perked up at the mention of Aetherius. Could this guy be here about the Forge as well? He thought, turning slightly to give the man a nod before responding, "What? A guy guy can't enjoy a cold draft just for the hell of it?" He gave the man a hard look for a moment before grinning and shaking his head, He must be here about the forge, why. Maybe he's the one doing the hiring?

    "I'm only joking, aha. Name's Hector. Hector Brandr actually, I'm here waiting for someone..."
    He reached into his satchel and procured the expedition note, sliding it onto the counter between them, "...About this. A little quest I guess you could call it. Looking for a lost Dwemer ruin." He eyed the man sideways, "You wouldn't happen to know anything about it would you?"

    As he talked the doors behind him opened and closed with the distinctive heavy clang common in this city and he heard the sound of heavy boots stomp past him. Not bothering to be discrete, he turned his head until he could see the newest arrival heading for the back of the room. A large, dark man, clad in intricate steel armor and carrying a delicate looking, rather thin sword on his hip was striding towards the back of the room. Hector furrowed his brow at the figure but turned his attention back to the Imperial before the steel clad man turned around. He heard the doors open again but he paid it no mind as he waited for the Imperial to respond.
     

    CapObvious

    A Rotten Scroungeral
    Just as he had expected. This man was in on the take as well. If the perk of Hector's ears when he said Aetherius wasn't enough of a giveaway, the paper in his hand was more than enough. Good to know at least one of his allies was a friendly sort. Falco sat back, returning the smile as he did so.

    "Well met, Hector. Name's Falco. Falco Loran." He held out one hand for Hector to shake, while slipping the notice on the bar with the other. "To answer your question, yes, yes I would know something about it. Unfortunately, not as much as I'd prefer." His brow furrowed a bit, opening the notice again. "It is rather cryptic now that I think of it, and while I read his work I still feel as if there's more to all this..." His eyes began to glaze as his mind began to wander, before he snapped back to it, smiling again. "But enough of all that. Least for now. We've got a few other things on our plate at the moment."

    He rocked his head toward another table, which was holding a pair of men, a Dunmer and Breton, who also looked out of place. He almost thought this dunmer to be the ring leader, but he didn't seem the type to he expected this Dreth to be; A more scholarly type, who needed others to do his hard work for him. No this dunmer could handle himself. He returned his attention back to his newest ally. "The rest of our party is arriving as we speak." He looked back toward the door as another entrant arrived, this one a khajiit. He chuckled softly. "That ought to liven things up a bit." He looked back to Hector. "These three look worth their salt for sure. I'd tempt fate and say if I'm right, and this is our party, we'll be there and back in no time."

    As he finished, he noticed another figure in the furthest corner. A dark man, shrouded in his dark armor, leaning against the wall watching the room as Falco was. His brow furrowed again, unsure what to think of this one. The eyes that stared back at him beneath his alik'r cowl were unsettling, to say the least, but he could tell the man's true intention. "Make that four." He mused, biting the inside of his cheek as he pondered. "No party is complete without the broody loner type after all. Bonus for it being the brawny type, I suppose. At least he'll be grumpy AND taking all the arrows for us." He chuckled, returning to his good humor. He looked back to Hector, who he saw was also inspecting these new arrivals. "This is getting more and more interesting by the minute, wouldn't you say?"
     

    Blackdoom59

    BATMAN!
    The kitchens of the Blue Palace, a place where food should be made, not served, believes Nisvond. A meal is still a meal though, and this one is courtesy of no other than Falk Firebeard, the Steward of Solitude. Nisvond wouldn't call him a friend, but he's probably the closest thing the redguard has to one nowadays.

    The two eat a most succulent and no doubt expensive dish in silence, with Falk glaring briefly at Nisvond from time to time before returning his eyes to his plate.
    "Food's good." Nisvond tried to initiate conversation, knowing full well that Falk didn't invite him to just to eat.
    "Many thanks, the chef continues to outdo himself. Must be a welcome change from the skeever pies they serve at the tavern." Falk chuckles, taking a hefty bite of bread.
    "Mhm." Nisvond stops eating and stares into Falk's eyes. "Why am I here?"
    "Do I really need a reason to enjoy a meal with my friend?"
    "We're friends now?"
    "I should think so, you did save my life, after all"

    Nisvond takes a sip of wine, thinking back on how he and the Steward got acquainted with one another. It was common for Falk to share septims from Solitude's treasury with whomever got rid of bandits, but uncommon for him to tag along in the task. One faithful day Falk would set his courtly duties aside for a while, put on a plate of armor and grab his trusty old skyforged steel sword, then ventured to deal with a bad kind of bandit - a spy. Someone that stole information from right under his nose. Should the spy get to Hjaalmarch, Falk would loose his job and maybe his head as well. Him and Nisvond set out to find this spy, except he wasn't alone, and the two were ambushed by stormcloaks. Not a match for the hardener experienced redguard, but Falk found himself at the feet of the spy he sought to kill, with an axe ready to drop down on his chest. Nisvond evened the odds, thus achieving Falk's gratitude for a long time.

    "If I want something I'l let you know. You don't have to spend your wage on fancy dinners"
    "Well, there is something you should know...some troubling news" You could notice Falk's eyes shifting, avoiding Nisvond's, instead surveying the room for any other figure.
    "Another spy?" Nisvond inquired with only a slight smirk, causing Falk to frown.
    "Very funny, but no. You did tell me how you're a wanted man in Hammerfell. Well, from what I hear, there's this group of redguard mercenaries, The Dusts, they just entered Skyrim and are now near Falkreath"

    Nisvond stares blankly at the table. Those men could easily be after him. The Dusts are fairly popular in the west, but he's managed to avoid them so far. A few bounty hunters he could fight or outrun, but a whole mercenary company? He'd be crazy to even try.

    "I'd be worried, but I'm inside city walls, with the city's Steward as my friend."
    Falk clears his throat
    "About that...You...You have to leave" Falk looked discomforted, either feeling pain for uttering those words, or fear of Nisvond
    "I think I misheard" he blinks repeatedly for a moment.
    "I'm afraid you didn't. We're at war, we cannot have such a wanted man inside our gates...makes things very complicated."
    Nisvond gets up from his chair "You cowardly piece of-"
    "Calm now, Nis! There's a solution. You might have seen notices hanging from the walls." he takes out a piece of paper with the details and places it on the table "Scholar's looking for adventurers to explore dwemer ruins. Those mercenaries might be bold, but they wouldn't follow you there even if they had a clue you're going in the first place! It's the perfect course of action, by the time the job is done you'l have a thousand septims and they'l be out of Skyrim"

    Nisvond shakes his head and starts walking towards the kitchen exit
    "You'd have me hide in a cave because you're a lazy coward that can't protect the city and me both"
    "I know you're not here for long, my friend...but Skyrim isn't like Hammerfell. Things are different here, you have to understand..."
    "Nah..." he starts walking out "They're exactly the same"

    ----

    A day later, Nisvond reached the grand architectural wonder known as Markarth. Even if he's an asshole, Falk is right in this regard. Best way to play it safe is with joining this expedition. He sees another notice hung up from the Silver-Blood inn, which he tears down before entering. He figures he'l at least be useful on this contract - in Stros M'kai had working steam powered dwemer engines and ruins, and he's seen a few of the contraptions he'd likely see again soon.

    Seeing a few people that looked like adventurers already, he approached two of them already having a chat.

    "Our employer isn't here yet, I take it?"
     

    Simus

    An Excellent Site Member
    "Tell me what you saw child."

    The dirty little girl looked down at the ground and thought hard about her most recent visitor. Her face scrunched as she did so, emphasizing her cute little dimples and the scabs and dust that pockmarked them. Her teeth were yellow and crusty, only still whole through stolen healing potions. The hood of her long ragged clothes covered her ample matted brown hair. Her feet she was looking down at were bare and blistered with long jagged toenails. Her fingers and nails were just as unkempt and her eyes showed a hungry and desperate soul, a little girl no one loved and who could barely survive day to day.

    This was in stark contrast to Elspeth Adrastia, Inquisitor of Stendarr and dispenser of pitiless justice. Her full ebony plate was polished to a shine and the golden emblem of Stendarr showed like a mirror on her chest and the shield over her back. Her boots had pointed toes that looked as if they could break a man's kneecap with a swift kick and her gauntlets gave her a cold hard touch. Her hat, also with a golden symbol of Stendarr, was tall and had a wide brim, as if to shield her eyes from the unclean. Her face was set into a look of stone indifference and the sword sheathed at her hip glowed with terrible power even while protected. Overall she looked very forboding to strangers and terrifying to any lawbreaker who recognized her. Over a hundred years of battle, pain and relentless tracking of her target had purified her soul and let her find and deal with even the smallest trace of corruption and once she found it no one could stop her. Where Elspeth walks, evil and heresy die.

    Finally, the little girl remembered something. She looked up to her new visitor, got out of the crack of stone where she lived and slept and stood up to speak. "She had black hair. Long black hair, the blackest I've ever seen. Blacker than a crow's feathers! I remember that hair because I wanted it. It was much nicer than mine. All of her was beautiful. Even before she talked to me, even before she got to me I wanted to run up to her, hug her until she picked me up and snuggle with her forever."

    "Yes. That sounds exactly like who I'm looking for. Why did she approach you?"

    "She saw me. It was late and I was too cold to sleep so I watched people. I see lots of things at night but not many people see me but she did. I thought she might have food and wanted to take some from her but she saw me and I couldn't do it. I have to steal a lot. It makes me sad but I'm hungry and can't get food. I don't want to steal. It makes me feel like a bad person."

    "It's good that you feel that way child. That's the right thing to feel and I promise after I am gone you won't have to steal again. This girl I'm looking for? She never feels bad about stealing. Now what happened next?"

    "After that she started walking towards me. I was scared because lots of elders like to hit me. I hid in my crack here and wanted to run but I couldn't. I was too scared to run. She came up and asked me what I was doing. This is where I sleep I said. Why do you sleep here she asked? Because I don't have a house I said. Where's your mamma and papa she asked? I don't have a mamma anymore I said. She died when a man in funny tatoos on his face stabbed her in the back. And my papa's gone away somewhere. Mamma said he has to dig for the Silver Family. So then I asked her if she had any food and you know what she did? She pulled out a loaf of bread! A full loaf! Like in the inn! And she gave it to me! That was last night and I haven't been hungry all day thanks to her! That lady was so nice ma'am, and so pretty! She asked me if I wanted to come with her but I was scared so I said no. She said that was okay and then brought me a pillow and blanky, the ones I have here, and then she left. I wish I had gone with her. She was so nice."

    "I'm glad you didn't child. I'm afraid she was only pretending to be nice, but I am happy she was able to do you a kindness. Now I need to ask you one more thing and this is very important. Did she tell you her name or where she was going?"

    "Yes! Yes she did! Her name was Lassa! She said she was going to find a big cave with some Dwemer ruins. She said it was too boring here and she wanted to have fun. Do you know where she was talking about?"

    "I believe I do child. I believe I do."


    " Lassa. I like that name. It's not my name though."

    "Well what is your name?"

    "Ashligh ma'am. Ashligh Auditore."

    "Well it's a pleasure to meet you Ashligh Auditore. My name is Elspeth and you have helped me find a very dangerous person. I'm afraid Lassa has done some very bad things and I have to punish her for them."

    "I'm sad to hear that Miss Elspeth. Are you going to ground her?"

    "Something like that."

    "Well if she's been bad and only pretended to be nice then that's bad."

    "I suppose it is child. Now then, Ashligh, you have been a very good little girl and you deserve better than a hole in the wall. I would like to reward you for helping me and I would like to do so by giving you a bath and buying you some new clothes. Would you like that?"

    "I certainly would Miss Elspeth. Do you have food too? Will I have to steal it?"

    "You will not child. As I promised you will never have to steal again. And I know just the people who can take care of you. Have you ever been to the Temple of Dibella?"

    "No ma'am."

    "Then you are in for a lovely surprise."


    An hour later Ashligh was fed, clothed and bathed and in the care of the priestesses of the temple. Elspeth and the high priestess had agreed for the girl to become an acolyte and the Inquisitor would return in a few weeks to see that she was being taken care of. Now it was time for Elspeth's own food and rest and headed to the Silver-Blood Inn. She had heard of an expedition to Dwemer ruins to find the Aetherium Forge. Lassa likely knew of it as well and would seek the Forge's power for herself. It was a perfect opportunity for Elspeth to trap her quarry while safeguarding an expedition of adventurers as well as make some more gold for the Inquisition. Opening the door she saw several people gathered at the bar and a few tables, as well as a large armored figure in the shadows. The man was in heavy steel armor but had a delicate looking blade. A strange incongruity. Elspeth walked over to a table in the shadows and stopped to the left of a dunmer man and a lightly armored Breton to his right. The two didn't look like they wanted to be bothered but also that they knew what was going on. The quiet ones in dark corners were always the best places to start when looking for information because they saw the most and talked the least. Elspeth decided to introduce herself and find out what she could. If they refused to help she would simply find another.

    "Greetings." She said to the dunmer. "I am here regarding the expedition. With whom do I speak?"
     
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