Lyron waited behind the kegs of mead, in silence. As one by one, the for-told members of the fellowship arrived in the basement. "....It is safe now....My child...." The Elder bow encouraged him. Lyron stepped out from behind the keg. As he did so, a gust of wind blew out all candles, making it dark. Lyron swiftly pulled out his bow, and slammed it on the table. The Elder bow glowed bright enough so everyone could see him. Lyron pulled the hood off of his head, and looked at the fellowship. "Welcome," he said with no hesitation, "you must understand our... Secrecy and hesitation. We do not seek help often."
Lyron looked at the group. All of which the Elder Bow spoke of. "I, am Lyron Dryearmitore," He announced, "The Shadow of Silvenar."
"....And I....I am his Elder Bow....The souls of his ancestors....His guidance ..." As the bow spoke to them, it glowed along. "Our note was brief, but we will answer all the questions you have," he continued, "I have been hunting a group called the New Septim's Army, all of my life. They murdered my family. My people. My tribe. And I.... We, are all that is left." He said gesturing to the bow, head down.
"We called you here specifically, because we thought you would be best for the task," he explained, "a warrior of Silence, of High Rock, of Hammerfell, and an Alchemist."
"....Your skills....Have proven proficient....We require them...." The Elder Bow added. "I have tracked them to narrow passage, north of hear, called North Brittleshin Pass," Lyron directed, on a map he had just pulled out, "We will go, and kill all of them." Lyron was hesitant in explaining the mission, as it was brutal, and barbaric. It was more than a personal mission to him.
"This is no mere group of bandits," he explained sternly, "it is an army, of well trained, viscious people. They plan to take back all of Skyrim, and Tamriel, by killing all who are not Imperial. They do this by carrying on all the torture techniques taught in the 2nd age, by Tiber Septim himself. When taking over Valenwood." Lyron looked at them all hopeful they would accept the mission. "Money is no problem, I will pay what you ask," he commented, almost pleading, "Will you join us?"
As Lyron finished explaining, a flashback came to his mind. The heat, from the fire set to the forest. The screaming of the people, being slaughtered in the streets. The crashing, from his home city, being torn to pieces. He saw his parents, Laying dead next to his burning home. The blood soaked cave, of his Sangartii tribe. Tears ran down his face, as he looked down at the map. He couldn't forget all the horrible thoughts that were imprinted into his mind. His loved ones. He promised them all protection, and couldn't give it to them. He made it his goal to avenge all the men, women, and children, that had died in vein.