Open Out in the Open

Garashbur pushed Esset to the side. "Garashbur fix." He said, raising a paw, and clawing down onto the lock. It fell into two pieces, and the door swung open.

Esset gaped. This creature could come in very handy indeed. "After you, my friend."

Arthur heard the door open and saw the troll, accompanied by the breton woman and her group. "Get inside quickly!" he shouted to the bandits. "Ill be there shortly". Arthur then walked up to the group of adventurers... (The Suspense )

Esset was brought to a halt. The man from before was back. Arrogantly drawing his blades in an overly dramatic fashion, he stepped aside as Lysara walked ahead. "I believe you have a bone to pick with this gentleman, my Breton friend. Don't let me hold you up."

OOC: We'll leave it there then

OOC: Agreed.

R'alle peaked over the rock. The troll destroyed the lock and opened the door. Then all of a sudden a man came towards the group.The man looked hostile in nature with 2 weapons drawn. The woman he bumped into earlier walked past someone heading straight to the man. It's been a while since I've seen a good fight thought R'alle crossing the room getting a better look. I should become a spy one day thought R'alle smiling.

Rennes walked along the road watching the shadows for possible threats, when he heard yelling come from a near cave. He walked up and put his hands on the side and peered in "Too dark for normal eyes..no torchlight either" Rennes grabbed a small potion and drank it, his pupils dilated, allowing him to see even in the darkest of caves. He unsheathed Mourner and dived into the cave.

(OOC: I'm wondering how everyone is going to fit in this cave! )

OOC: We shall ask Minecrafters to blow the walls apart with TNT!

Arthur looked at the Breton woman he had spoken to earlier. "Ah, well hello again" he said, devilishly smiling. "What brings you back to me?" Arthur said while sheathing his weapons

Coming around a sharp corner, Rennes saw people gathered "Hmm, 5 people...wait no there are more." Sniffing the air, a sharp familiar scent hit his nose. "A troll?" Rennes backed up against the wall and peaked towards them.

R'alle was still behind the rock when the wind shifted direction. The scent of another person filled the cave. He looked behind him and saw a dark figure. R'alle nearly died of a heart attack. He stayed in his current position hoping the figure wouldn't see him or know of his presence.

(Now would be a great time for Lysara to jump back in...)

(Lol Patience, brother...)

(Thats what the DB would say, anyway)

Allimir was in a bit of a daze since the troll popped in. He was just following the others, his mind snapping back for brief moments to allow his wit to return.
((HAHA IC EXPLANATION FOR OOC MISSINGNESS))

The arrow was drawn back as he pointed at the fellow from the side and slightly behind Lysara. "Say the word, dear."

Njolkyrn gazed silently into the embers of the fire, flames flickering into existence and swaying in the breeze coming in from a gap in the moss-riddled rock, glancing at his present company. At first, they'd been hesitant with their welcome, but not with their weapons. A few septims had leveled the bandits heads, at least for now.

He reached a hand into the side of his armour, extracting a small piece of parchment and unrolling it. Shock blue eyes scattered over the worn ink once more. The sheet wasn't labelled, but Njolkyrn knew well enough what it was, and anyone who came across it if he was to drop it wouldn't likely be able to. It was a record of Thalmor Justicar movements. He'd been on the run for months now; even before the events of the White-Gold Concordat when he still moved about Hjaalmarch he'd held a keen hate for them, and a mistrust for their- or anyone's- arrogance. Aloof, manipulative bastards, he thought. Njolkyrn had long since moved from the marshes after their efforts using the tactic of sending in patrols had failed and they resorted to a large group circling inward. He had had to fight hard just to pry through a gap in their troops.

Now the "aloof fools" would swarm around Hjaalmarch and Morthal. His home. He spat onto the dirt at his side, muttering a curse. The Thalmor should never have set foot in Skyrim.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of clashing metal, and the familiar gargles of death from up the tunnel, and back into the keep. The bandits had turned their heads also, and most of them set off. The few of them that were Nords found Njolkyrn's presence unsettling. He seemed odd, and something of his accent said he was from Morthal. Morthal, the odd hold ruled by the odd Jarl. None of them glanced his way, to say "are you not coming" or so much as suggest it. He rose, stamping out the fire, putting out the rest of the torches in their part of the tunnel, before setting off up the tunnel at a slower pace, evidently not caring particularly for the fate of the bandits other than that they were going to halt the attackers.

"Too many...and there isn't any room to move" Rennes watched the group of people when he noticed small subtle movements near a boulder. Rennes looked over and put his free hand to his lips "Shh, silence little one"

(OOC: congrats on working in the amount of characters as part of the story. )