Private Last Light of the Summer Sun

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    Hadvir pulled his scarf tighter around his nose and mouth, shivering in the cold. Its been a few months now since the love of his life disappeared. She took a ship and a crew and just..left. She told no one. Not the College, not the Guild, not even him. The only reason he knew was-well, he probably shouldn't think to hard on that now. He leaned on his staff looking at the devastated town. To think this was once the capital of Skyrim, destroyed by a massive wave. But the new storm that was coming would make the Great Collapse look like a damn joke. A darkness is coming, Forever Night as the old atmorans called it. Maybe that was the true reason his ancestors fled south to Skyrim. As he stood there in the cold, lost in his thoughts he heard a deep growling voice behind him. Strom Moon-born. The berserker. Freya was very insistent on keeping him along with them. But Hadvir wasn't so sure. The man was just as likely to kill his comrades as any enemy who stepped up too him.
    "Hadvir I got what you wanted." The berserk said, annoyed and bitter.as he held a large object wrapped in rags. Hadvir turned around and nodded, "Bring it inside." he said to Strom as he walked over opening the door of the inn to the massive man. This was it, the pinnacle of their research. With this they could maybe figure out what was going on, what they were going to be dealing with. Strom followed Hadvir in, ducking under the door frame, as he tried to fit his massive figure through and into the house.
    "Set it down there." Hadvir said to Strom as he pulled out several books and ancient scrolls/

    "I'm not your damn errand boy."
    Strom said snapping at Hadvir as he threw the object on the table.

    Hadvir held his hands out defensively, "I never said you were Strom..just..keep your head."

    Strom growled and walked to the other side of the table as Hadvir opened up the rags. He gasped as he saw what was inside. He heard of the tales, rumors from fisherman and sailors but he never knew it was this bad. A fish lay on the table, covered in black sand a result of the corrupted beach it stranded itself on. It was big, if it wasn't horribly warped and mutated it would've made a fisherman's dream. A sharp beak full of razor shard teeth, pale lifeless eyes, bulges and tumors seemed to cover it, not to mention what appeared to be fur growing from its back, along with bony spines. Havir grabbed a scalpel and pressed the sharp blade against its stomach beginning the dissection. He maybe opened up two inches of it, before he heard a terrible howl and screech. The fish flopped on the table, snapping and biting at the air before hitting the table hard enough where it propelled its self up a good three feet.
    Right up to Had's face.
    Quickly Strom's axes lept foward intercepting the fish splitting it in half, spilling blackened, diseased innards and dark ash all over the Had and the table. Had leaned back against the wall, breathing heavily. He could've died, His head ripped off by a fish.
    "Thanks Str-"
    "Don't mention it." Strom said as he cleaned of his axes with the rag.
    "This is bad."
    "Really? I couldn't tell."
    "You think anyone got my letter?" Had asked Strom, referring to the message they sent out a few weeks prior.
    "How in Oblivion am I supposed to know?"
    "You really brighten the mood Strom."
     
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    The_Lost_Foxtrot

    Luwd uf Shoduws
    The sound of snow cruntching under a pair of boots could just be heard under the howling Wind of the snow storm that was sweeping through the decimated town of Winterhold. Vaylin was holding her fur cloak tightly around herself as she walked briskly towards the door that led into the inn, wich was the Meeting point if the letter she read back in Dawnstar was correct. The Young elf groaned as she made sure her Hood was safely over her head, "This Cold is horrible, why couldn't it have been somewhere more South? like Riften or the Reach!?" she said out loud almost as if she expected someone to reply wich got her a few looks from the occational guard that patrolled past her. "Maybe if you didn't keep accepting every request or favor thrown towards you then we could be in Solitude? it's Your own fault for being to kind towards everyone". A simingly bodyless voice called out in the depts of her mind, it's tone calm and somewhat snarky at her comaplaining of the Cold tempretures. But rather then showing fear and confusion at the voice, Vaylin only huffed in annoyance, "but we had to get here and figure out what all the fuss is about, don't even try to deny that Your just as curious about the rumours of monsters in the sea like I am, Nihilus" she shot back With a small smirk, wich only Widen when she didn't get an immediate reply form the voice.

    They were both quiet as they closed in on the inn, onlu stopping for a brief moment to take in the sight of the massive Castle like structure that was the Collage before she gathered her thoughts and entered the inn. Once inside she let her Hood fall back and let her hair free, running a hand through it quickly before she moved towards the Counter that the innkeeper stood at. Vaylin smiled kindly at the man whom seemed to gain a small smile of his own at her Expression, "good day miss, are you here for a room? perhaps you're here to seek entry to the Collage?" he asked in a polite manner. The she-elf only shook her head at the last question and pulled out a purse With gold septims, "A room for the next few Nights please, and I'm actually here for the request that was sent out, about needing aid With something, we were supposed to meet here at the inn" she informed him as he accepted the coins and quickly pointed towards her room to the left of the Counter, his smile turning into a small frown at the mention of the Bounty, "yes I know what Your talking about, that would be the Collage With the help of that Hadvir fellow, a good man, unlike that giant he has With him, Strom if I remember right. You just wait here then I'm sure that they will Return shortly, I'll even get someone to go tell them right away for you, until then enjoy the fire and some Food and drinks" he informed her before nodding towards a woman whom seemd to be working here as well, the woman nodded back and quickly went into another room, likely where this Hadvir and Strom was. Vaylin nodded With a smile as she paid for a simple vension soup and some water before walking over to a table and sat Down to eat.

    "The innkeeper's heart raised at the mention of the Bounty, maybe these disturbing rumours are more real then we origanly thought?" Nihilus mused in her mind wich got him a slight nod and a hum as an answer from his Companion and host as they waited.
     

    Alty

    Caw Caw
    Water does not burn.

    Cedrida assessed the sand-turned-soot, seeming to blacken further with every searing lap of the sickly water. Seeping from the shore was a repugnant, dry smell, doing nothing to improve the 3-days abandoned warzone behind the detective. Disgusting.

    He moved east, stamping the line between the infection and the cold ivory. East, towards a clam clacking threateningly at him. He plucked it from the ink-rimmed shore, and by the state of how its grey flesh swelled until it cracked its shell, he decided that this inkiness was undeniably a disease. He bagged it within thin leather and stringed it to the strap of his journal's case. East, towards Winterhold.

    -

    The world, he decided, is his ally. His counter. His opposite. It was whole, flawed so spectacularly to make it human, maintaining a system to punish the fools so that they may learn and reward the considerate to remind them what's worth their efforts. Cedrida was not human, empty but living, certainly flawed, yet unknowing what exactly he had done to be exposed to the filth. He yearned for an inn.

    Muddy impressions echoed his wake up the white slope, a humanly weight. No humanly breaths to accompany it. No cold puffs or reddened nose to label him mortal. He sighed into his crimson scarf, savoring the scent of when he last wiped blood from his mouth. The Frozen Hearth's porch did not creak beneath him, though its bend from the hold's severe ambience was not slight. He held from tossing himself through the door and into the fire (that his unpulsing skin would gluttonize no comfort from, but it would still be worth it in a metaphorical sense). The little bag writhed, denying him a good welcome into the inn should it be discovered.

    He loathingly leaned against the frost-rotted wood, a teeth-shattering grip of warning and blame on the little monster.
     
    The two nords argued loudly over their next course of action walking into the hall of the inn. Had wiped ash and blackened blood off of his face as he looked over at Strom, who was growling and brooding to himself. Hadvir scoffed and looked at the massive nord, "Oh stop brooding!" he said as Strom growled at him.
    "Going north is suicide, that fish nearly took your head off and if you don't shut up I will!"
    Hadvir wanted to go north to try and find Freya. Strom wasn't exactly on board with that idea. He loved a good fight, but this was unnatural. Especially since they had no aid as of now. The College and the Guild weren't fully on board with Hadvir and Freya's research. They definitely wouldn't be any help. Hadvir grabbed his cloak and staff and marched towards the door,
    "I'm finding myself a ship and a crew."
    Strom scoffed at him, "Where would you even find one?"
    Hadvir shrugged, "I'll find a way."
    "Alone?"
    Hadvir sighed. Strom was right in a way. If one fish nearly killed him, by the Nine, imagine what horrors awaited him in the north, But Freya was out there, somewhere waiting for him. Strom shrugged and leaned on a wooden beam, then stopped as he heard the wood creak and crack from his weight. Hadvir motioned around, "Well Strom do you happen to see-" he stopped as he saw a young bosmer sitting at a table. Then a worker walked over to them, and pointed them out,
    "I was told to go let you know some folk got your mess-" Strom growled and grabbed the man by the throat squeezing until he fell to his knees.
    "And you waited how long to tell us?"
    Hadvir tapped Strom on the shoulder,

    "Let him go Strom, that's going to get us nowhere."
    Hadvir walked over to the Bosmer, and sat across from her,
    "Name's Hadvir, the giant of a nord over there is Strom. I'm guessing our courier got our message to you."
     

    The_Lost_Foxtrot

    Luwd uf Shoduws
    Vaylin continued to hum softly to herself as she ate her meal as she discussed With Nihilus on their next move, on her way to the town she saw the ashen and sick looking sea. It made her ill just thinking of the shore ridden Fish she saw earlier, all deformed and almost corrupt looking, Nihilus couldn't identify any known plagues or diseases that could cause such a harsh effect on the victim.

    The Young bosmer jumped a little in her seat when the tall, compered her at least, nord sat Down opposite of her and introduced himself and his Companion, she blinked a couple of times before a smile formed on her lips. "My name is Vaylin Rosewood, and yes I did actually, when we found out about the sickness that has fallen over the shores of Winterhold I just had to come and help in any way that I could, even if I had to drag my friend With me" she said With a small grin, indicating that she brought With her extra help, but to the ones around it looked like she came alone.

    Nihilus sighed in a tired way as he shook his head, annoyed by her childish and somewhat naive confession of companionship, even if it wasn't on purpose on her part it still surpised him how unezpirianced she showed to be sometimes even after the past few years that they have been on the road. "Very smooth little Fox, maybe we could bring them With us to a party back in Riften as well and tell them all about Our adventures and Secrets if Your going to tell them about me so soon as well?" the Wraith said in a sarcastic manner within her mind, only to realize that her smile widened slightly as she nodded. "A good idea! maybe we can take them With us to Whiteun sometime as well" she said out loud, but it wasn't ridected towards the nord opposite of her With got her a few odd looks from the patrons around them.
     
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    Alty

    Caw Caw
    He wasn't desperate. He swears. It was mere spite that he glided towards a near-empty barrel, nudging the lid just fit to roughly grate the thing against the splintered planks before dropping it. He closed the lid as if he never touched it.

    The door grated against its aged frame when he yanked it open, an uncanny difference to how the floor still did not bow to his weight. His greatbow, placed to be a good two inches above his uncovered head, knocked against the top of the entrance. It rocked with a consoling weight behind his knife, swirling prettily with folded steel. But the sniper was not present for show, despite moving with a sliver of inhuman grace. The well-tailored leather beneath his armor immediately consumed the coziness, and he breathed out of contentment into his scarf.

    A mistake, even if mostly ineffective. He could smell his entire diet through the red yarn. Blood was all the more sweeter in the cold, rising to the surface of flesh to warm its bearer. The Ace was more control-hungry than he was blood-thirsty, however, and he placed himself near the warm pit without recoil towards the sight of his weakness.

    The sniper fought many a man more brutish than he, but this man towering over a poor server was a tree. With an unnecessary timidness, the vampire unveiled his jaw from the red softness. This was a man of war, though Cedrida knew better than to label him a soldier. Having temper for a mistress resulted in many a death. The ex-imperial soldier would know.

    He recalled the warzone, and with it, the reason he had yet to return to war. How pointless it was to fight your mirror image: a man fighting only to sacrifice himself. Cedrida never agreed with the aimless plan to "fight fire with fire". The warzone, burdening the lives of spirited dimwits and surrounded by the rotting shores, had his sympathy. He needed to record his findings in his journal, but he wanted to keep a sharp eye on the bear in human skin.

    "...the sickness that has fallen over the shores of Winterhold, I just had to come an help in any way..."

    Others. Not that he even once assumed he was the only one aware, but this meant more information. But was he truly willing to form an alliance with these people? His was ear elsewhere, but he continued to study the aggressive nord with a bold stare.
     
    Freya was a necromancer, a reason why she and Hadvir had a strained relationship with the College. During many of their travels he picked up a few things. While he couldn't summon the dead or resurrect corpses he could..sense things. He smiled at the Bosmer and clicked his tongue, "Tsk tisk my friend I can see your companion quite well. Although I'm intrigued to find out how he got himself in such a tricky situation."

    Strom sniffed the air, and growled softly. The air, it smelt of death. But not like the bloated corpse of the fish he eviscerated. No this was different. His hands instinctively fell to his axes as his gaze was drawn to the figure by the fire. He let out another soft growl as his bare chest started to heave, and his shoulders rose and fell from underneath the cold bear cloak. That feeling, that pull at his gut, the burning sensation in his chest, the tingling in his arms, and beating drum in his ear.

    Hadvir seemed to pay no attention to the wild animal behind him, instead talking to Vaylin about the next course of action.
    "We're thinking of taking a boat further north, but Strom despite being thickheaded had a point. We must prepare, learn what we're up against." Hadvir explained.
    "My partner Freya and I learned most of what we know from cryptic poems and prohecies, but we need something more tangible. I say we go the dwemer ruins. If anyone has records it must be-" Hadvir stopped when he felt a massive paw on his shoulder. Strom looked down at him, nearly frothing at the mouth.
    "Go."
    Hadvir's face went pale. Not again. Not now in front of new recruits. Hadvir wished Freya was here, she could usually bring him back easily, but with Hadvir it was a coin toss.
    "Strom..we're going just..calm down." As Hadvir spoke he made subtle motions at his sides, a small flick of the wrist or a twitching finger. His hands seemed to have a soft green aura about them as he held on arm out, shielding Vaylin. Freya and him should've left the beserk where they found him instead of dragging him along.

    Strom growled and clutched his head throwing his helmet to the ground as he growled. That man, he wasn't man, everything about him was unnatural. Hadvir tried working his magic, but Strom was drifting more and more into the eternal rage, no longer speaking but growling and snarling.
     

    Alty

    Caw Caw
    He heard it. That little rage that festered inside not a man - he corrected - but a beast, no longer in the metaphorical sense. He drifted off into the swarm of heightened senses. Even at his distance, where he sat panicked in the head, he could feel every hair on Strom's bare skin waft through the air to raise offensively. He pointedly glanced at the mage, before challengingly meeting the eyes of the dog. He was definitely the target.

    Well.

    From under his brow glinted an alarmed red-rimmed orange, his smooth lips twitching with the decision of fight or flight. His gaze raked over the duo (trio, rather, eyeing a slight distortion of the environment near to the girl) at the nord's back, as if to include them in a decision. The stressed concious of him warned: They will not help you. His gaze flicked back to attention on the bear when the helmet's metal tolled. He had only instinct as reason to fight and dignity as reason to flee.

    He stood slowly, gently.

    Evil by breed or not, he was human once. His armor was an unconstraining weight as he dashed mad for the door, already thinning into a smokey mass upon brushing the handle. He appeared as just another blow of the blizzard if the eye did not look closely nor steadily, slithering up to the roof where he reappeared as a "man". He was dizzy from the haze that came with such dark magic, but the anxiety he felt as a fox on the run from the wolf had him automatically snatch his bow. Not a single board had yet to creak under his weight.
     

    Aspen

    Member
    Marwen wrapped her cloak around her as the wind began to pick up. She was grateful for the garment, even as she questioned the decision of whoever had sent the letter to meet at Winterhold. It was isolated, at least and that wasn't such a bad thing. At least not to her- with the war on, she'd been mistaken for a thalmor agent several times. Despite not wearing any of their unmistakable robes.

    Her axe had seen as much action against ignorant stormcloak rebels as it had against the monsters and bandits she'd been hired to dispatch. At Winterhold, she wouldn't have to worry so much about cases of mistaken identity. Assuming she ever got the place. The wind was as keen as a blade, and it was unlikely to get any warmer.

    As if summoned by her thoughts, the ruin of Winterhold became visible as she crested a hill. A few guards wandered the streets, and of the few buildings still standing, she guessed one served as the inn. With a sigh of relief, she increased her pace, eager to get a hot meal and a good nights sleep.

    Keeping to the road, she passed broken, ruined husks that had once been buildings, covered in so much snow the sharp edges of the ruins had long been dulled by drifts. A sign, battered and swaying in the wind, called her attention. The faded writing identified the building next to it as the Frozen Hearth inn. "Finally" she murmured, but what she saw next froze her in place.

    There was a man on the roof. That in itself was odd, but what was stranger still was the suddenness of his appearance. She was sure there had been no one atop the inn several moments ago. He was too far away for the altmer to see his face, but his body language spoke of caution. An assassin perhaps? Strange armor for a killer who relied on stealth. So someone clearly acrobatically inclined, who'd rather be on the roof rather than inside where it was warm and comfortable.

    Which meant something was likely going on inside. Something violent, if she had to bet money on it. Rushing blindly in could very well see her head removed from her shoulders. Something she wasn't inclined to partake in. Cautiously, she removed her battle axe from its holster and began to approach the door, senses alert for the slightest sign of trouble.
     

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