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    Simus

    An Excellent Site Member
    Whiterun's Hall of the Dead was a good place to keep secrets. They were large, cavernous, cloistered and quite confusing for those who did not know the way. For those that did, it was a place for meetings unseen and unheard. Only the dead lived in these catacombs and Arkay would see that they would not interfere.

    This was exactly what Simus and Alice Psyrakon were hoping for. As father and daughter they helped Ulfric Stormcloak attain power. They led his soldiers, watered Skyrim with their blood in his name and they called him brother. Despite being Imperials and hailing from the Imperial Province they both had the hearts of Nords. They thought they were fighting to free Skyrim from a dying Empire that refused to take care of its people. One that was fractured and decaying, no longer able to do the job it was supposed to do. They thought that if they won and Ulfric were High King, he would rebuild the Empire into the land Tiber Septim intended it to be. Skyrim was supposed to be a beacon of hope for all Tamriel, and Ulfric was to be the one who brought the Aldmeri Dominon to justice.

    They couldn't have been more wrong.

    That was why there were here, in this chamber (think Namira's shrine with all the dinner guests, just no human-carving machinery) with Vignar Grey-Mane, the new Jarl of Whiterun. They were all planning to stop Ulfric and, by extension, comitting high treason.

    Vignar stood at the head of the ancient table with the rest of his kin, Olfina, Fralia, Eorlund, Avelstein and Thorald. Plus there was Brill, his steward. Simus and Alice were also in attendence, considering it was their idea to start this little revolution. The table was laiden with a feast but no ate and no one drank. Their guets would arrive in a few minutes and they would have dangerous business to conduct. There would be little time for food and laughter until that business was done. Skyrim was on the path to destruction and Ulfric Stormcloak had to die.

    "It's almost midnight." Vignar said to Simus. "Are you sure anyone else is comming?"

    "They'll come." Simus said reassuringly. "They'll have to. This is their only chance to fight back."

    He cast a concerned look towards his daughter sitting across from him. "Alice? Do you see anything?"

    "They'll come." Alice said. "The Battle-Borns have decided their pride's too hard to swallow to sit down with Grey-Manes, but there are others. I"m not sure how many though. Not enough for an army, but it's a place to start."

    "Well, at this point we'll take what we can get." Simus said. "There's a lot of angry people out there, especially after the Grey Quarter Massacre, but taking up arms against the High King is never an easy decision."

    "Ulfric's only the High King as long as the people say he is." Vignar said. "Personally, he's lost my vote. A few of the other Jarls think so, but not all of them. We can't throw him out without a unanimous vote and that's not going to happen while Ulfric's got most of them in his pocket."

    "And I suppose there's no way to open Ulfric's eyes?" Simus asked. "Make him see the damage he's doing."

    "Simus, do you really think we'd be here if there was? You know the man better than anyone else here. You know how warped his mind has become. Plus, if your fortune teller of a daughter can't see anything, then there's no way out."

    "With all due respect My Jarl" Alice said with a mixture of civility and anger "I'm not just some book you can open and see whatever part of the future strikes your fancy. I can't see everything and I do make mistakes. There may yet be a way to save Ulfric from himself. The ghettos, the attackes, the mistreatment of foreigners, the rising racism, he's never officially supported any of that. It's the extriemism of his subordinates tha's caused the most damage."

    "But he's allowed it all to happen sweetheart." Simus said. "Ulfric himself may not be a racist, but if he does nothing while the Stormcloaks push everyone that's not them out of Skyrim, than he might as well be one. I know you love Ulfric Alice. So do I, but he is not the man we thought he was. We all have to help make this right. With or without the Empire's help."

    "I wouldn't count on that." Vignar said. "The Empire's abandoned what's left of General Tullius' legion. The Thalmor are preparing to invade again and the Empire's the only thing between us and them. All of its strength is needed in Cyrodiil."

    "Than I guess it's up to us to get our house in order. Skyrim may no longer be part of the Empire, bu we still have a duty to save it. It's gong to nned all the help it can get against the Aldmeri Dominion and Skyrim will be there to answer the call. Ulfric was right about that at least."

    Just then, a young Stormcloak (Think Sven's voice) came down the stairs from the exit. He addressed Vignar.

    "My Lord, the first of your guests has arrived."

    "Send them down." Vignar said. He was worried about Ulfric's spies finding out about this, but Simus and Brill had assured him that all attending were loyal to him. At the very least, they all hated Ulfric. He would have to trust their judgement and, Talos willing, this would all work out.
     

    Gunnbjorn

    Formerly known as Arillious
    Arillious awoke drenched in sweat and the fire of battle in his eyes.

    He was in his rented room, in the Bannered Mare.

    (flashback)
    The Stormcloak Siege on Solitude had been running through his head ever since he fled with his brother, Alethius, just weeks before. Or was it months? Time had hardly become a concern, he had been on the run ever since, hoping, praying for a way to get out of Skyrim.

    General Tullius promoted he and his brother, Alethius, to Captains that day. Arillious had never had to lead before. He had always been some expendable soldier assigned to orders that nobody expected him to survive. Yet he always did. Somehow.

    The Stormcloaks were confident, prepared, and executed flawlessly.

    He was able to hold the main gate for 10 minutes. All of his men had fell. When he returned to Castle Dour to tell Tullius the ill news, his brother was already there. Tullius ordered the two boys to run, Arillious wanted nothing more than to fight and die by his Generals side, but Tullius insisted he fight another day, help the Legion retaliate back in Cyrodil.

    Arillious helped Alethius rappel down Castle Dour, but pride got the best of him. He ran back to help his commander, but he already lay dead on the ground when he returned.

    Ulfric and his army were outside, celebrating a swift victory.

    Arillious had enough time to grab Tullius' sword and flee through the passageways below the castle.

    He had been on the run ever since.
    (/end flashback)

    Arillious got up from his bed, he put on what was now his armor - A set of worn leather armor, with a hood, a regular steel shield, and a steel sword. Arillious had served the Legion and was a member of the Blades since he arrived in Skyrim. He loved bearing his factions' armour, he was representing the Empire by doing so. He always wanted to bring pride to himself and his homeland, but since that defeat at Solitude, he had been forced to go into hiding. Ulfric has ordered to kill any remaining Legion soldiers still left in Skyrim, and wearing a set of Blades or Imperial armor would surely get him killed.

    After putting on his gear, Arillious slung his shield around his back, and then his bag over his shield. In it was Tullius' sword. He made it a goal to bring it with him back to Cyrodil, where it belongs.

    Arillious walked out of his room, tipped the inn-keeper, and walked out into the starry Skyrim night. The only safe way for him to travel was at night, and his bad dreams seemed to be helping him to wake up at just the right times.

    He was headed for the front gates of Whiterun when two Stormcloaks about 20 feet behind him started to shout at him.

    "Hey you! Stop right there!" yelled one of the Stormcloaks.

    It would deem suspicion seeing a traveler out at such a late hour.

    Arillious remained walking, trying to pretend not to hear them.

    Another Stormcloak popped out of nowhere near the local Blacksmith.

    "Do you not hear this man? He is telling you to stop!" he said, before grabbing Arillious.

    As a knee-jerk reaction, Arillious threw an uppercut, landing the punch right on the bottom of the chin, knocking the Stormcloak straight back.

    With the guards at the front gate now watching, Arillious veered right, darting past the Patrol Building and back around Whiterun.

    The Stormcloaks lost sight of him as he ran up the stairs and past the Battle-born Clan house.

    The only possible way of getting away was hiding. There was only one way out of Whiterun and they'll surely be waiting there.

    Without thinking, he barged his way through a door that didn't look it was a house.

    Immediately inside, a young kid, close to his age turned right around, he was surrounded by a group of others. They were a little surprised at the sudden entrance of Arillious. The kid seemed Stormcloak by the looks of him, but before Arillious was able to ready himself the kid said, "Hello, are you one of the Jarl's guests?"

    Arillious didn't think before reacting to the question.

    "Yes, yes I am."

    The Jarl of Whiterun is the Jarl because of Ulfric, and would most definitely kill Arillious if he finds out he is a Legion soldier. Had he said no, he could have easily had made his way back to the inn and wait for a better time to leave Whiterun.

    Arillious had made his current situation that much harder.

    "Alrighty then, come with me. Be sure to stay with the group. The Hall of the Dead is filled with confusing corridors one could get lost quite easily."

    He began to casually walk down into the catacombs, with the small group following closely behind. Arillious stayed in the back of the group, but two others decided to keep behind him. This made escape impossible.

    It seemed like hours until they finally reached the room where the Jarl was.

    He watched as the young kid walked up to the Jarl, "My Jarl, the first of your guests have arrived."

    Arillious took a quick glance at the Jarl, but couldn't believe the two familiar people that were with him.
     

    Alexstrasza

    Mother of Dragons, Bride of Fire
    A rather small figure in distinctive clothing sat quietly underneath Gildergreen tree. Most of the people had left her alone, either talking quietly amongest themselves or walking past. Alex kept her katana near her, she remained in a mediated state but kept an ear open to hear if anything approached her.

    "Mrs. LaRouche?"

    Alex opened one eye to see who had spoken to her, a courier was standing in front of her with a letter.

    "Mr. LaRouche!"

    Alex spoke out with a faked deep voice, sweeping her long red hair out of her face as she snatched the letter from the man. She read the letter quickly.

    "Seems like what I heard was true, if you'll excuse me."


    Alex folded the letter and handed it back to the courier. She reached down for her katana, slid it into her white sash. The letter had said to come to the Hall of The Dead, so she followed directions written out on the paper. She saw a small group with a few stormcloaks gathered around them. She nodded towards them as she joined them.

    Alex walked through the damp corridors of the Hall of the Dead, she silently said words of prayer to the bodies of dead nords on either side of her as she followed the Stormcloak soldier. The Stormcloak spoke in soft words to the room before him.

    "...them down."

    That was all she heard as the stormcloak opened the door allowing her to pass through. The room she entered was large, maps placed on walls, makeshift tables and chairs placed among altars. Alex walked through the entrance and stopped in the middle of the room. She bowed her head towards the group gathered in near the fall wall.

    "Alex LaRouche at your service, I received news of your cause and I beg you to allow my blade in your effort."


    She placed a hand on her katana hanging of her sash and looked up towards the others who were now looking at her.
     

    UnLonged

    True to the Name
    "Come on then! You hit like a goat with frilly arms!"

    "Hit his sides, his sides!"

    Moans, cheers, laughter, and sounds of fist hitting flesh echo outwards the Bannered Mare. Brawls are common in taverns, especially when the mead is overflowing. This one however, is not the typical bar brawl as its participants are not fully drunk and its aim is not to prove who is stronger. A burly nord and an imperial - looking to be not fully suited in a brawl - circle each other, the imperial looking over his shoulder every now and then to check on a bruised old imperial lady lying on the ground.

    "You shouldn't have intervened with official business, boy." The imperial smirked with a bloodied mouth at the statement of the nord, who was identified as a stormloack officer. "Bring it on!" The nord cried, charging towards the imperial. The imperial dodged the right straight the nord delivered, striking the nord on the midsection with a leather padded knee. The nord fell to the ground, groaning.

    "Garrick! Garrick! Garrick!"

    "Hah! Stupid nord, justice is served to the bullied!"

    The patrons cheered for the imperial and taunted the downed nord. The imperial, huffing with fatigue, approached the old woman and exclaimed to the others, "Anyone here know a thing or two about restoration?" A woman then approached the unconscious elderly, pulling out her hands and releasing a restoration spell without hesitation. The imperial just smiled and stood, grabbing his rucksack by the counter and leaving the tavern without a word. A stranger then held the door for him, whispering words of "a solution to the stormcloak problem." The stranger piqued Garrick's curiosity, saying nothing more other than "Hall of the Dead" and pointed to the Wind District.

    Garrick walked towards the Hall of the Dead, keeping a reasonable pace as the stormcloak soldiers gets alerted by the slightest suspicious behavior. After arriving at the hall however, he saw nothing but the local priest. The priest did not acknowledge the imperial as he enter the halls and just opened the doors that lead deeper into the halls. Garrick did not know how to respond with the gesture, deciding to just enter the catacombs.

    Coffins fill the walls, torches hang from walls barely lighting the place. Nothing out of ordinary, except of course for a small group converging on a young man. "What in the name of-" Another group suddenly appeared behind Garrick, pushing him forward and getting himself mixed up with the crowd. The young man eventually led the group further in the catacombs. The young man's words only raised Garrick's anxiety with the situation. What is the Jarl doing down here? After a few moments of walking, the group entered a large room. Garrick was quite surprised at the sight as the Jarl himself was present along with the rest of his clan in Whiterun.
     

    Linamina

    Well-Known Member
    Eilene strode across the bridge leaving Windhelm, having just received a note from one of her followers. A large, heavy cloak embraced her entire figure that covered everything but her crimson red eyes. Eyes that gave her away no matter what she wore. Still, she was left alone...until she reached the end of the bridge.

    "Hold there, Greyskin." said the burly voice of a Nord behind her, turning to see the even worse sight of a Stormcloak uniform. She maintained modesty, for the sake of deception. "Can I help you, sir Nord?" The Stormcloak wasn't gentle with her, grabbing her arm. "You're breaking your curfew, elf. What are you planning?" his voice was deep and commanding but Eilene could smell the fear in his breath.

    "What I do is none of your business, now please lea--" she replied in a hasty interruption, never changing her tone even as The Stormcloak went from her arm to grabbing under her chin and picking her up just off her feet. "Don't back talk me, Greyskin. You're in Nord land and--" Now it was Eilene's turn to rudely interrupt, only this time the Stormcloak wouldn't have the chance to punish her for it again as she sheathed her dagger by the time his body fell with a slit throat. She bowed once, her expression never changing. "Pardon me, sir Nord; Have a nice evening."

    She stepped up on the carriage, the night driver jumping and turning his head. "Where'd you come from??" Eilene didn't answer, just dropped fifty gold on his lap. "Whiterun. Now." she sat and got bundled up for the ride.

    She had received a message from one named Simus. She didn't know him, but his hints at a new rebellion definitely caught her interest. After helplessly watching many of her kin die at the slaughter...she was ready for retribution. If only her skills could help her reach Ulfric's throat herself...no...not with how powerful he is and how many loyalists watch over him every second. She'd be dead before she could draw a blade.


    After a long and restless ride, the gates of Whiterun opened to her. At least here the Nords weren't as bad about keeping the nail hammered down on foreigners so she had plenty of space to breathe. Still, she had to stay low key and reach the hall of the dead before the sunrise. Luckily, halls of the dead were her preferred hiding places from the sun during the travels so she didn't need to look hard.

    She was rather forward when she barged through the door, giving all greeters the cold shoulder. She followed the faint scent of blood-warmed flesh until she found the meeting table. She said nothing to any of them until she took out the letter that was sent. "Simus?"

    At this point, she had her cloak off since she no longer needed to fight the cold. Much of her gear gave her away as an assassin type fighter though none like the dark brotherhood. In her time, she was always a freelance assassin, always killing on her own terms. But to most, she could have been called a freedom fighter, looking after the dark elves of the Grey Quarter. The slaughtering is where she met her match, and ended up being deemed a criminal by the local Nords who she deviously shadowed right under their noses.
     

    The OP3RaT0R

    Call me Op. Or Smooth.
    Nachael sat in the back of the carriage heading from Windhelm to Whiterun, looking across the tundra for the outline of a city. He was lucky to be in the cart; he was lucky to have heard that rumor in the Candlehearth Inn that in Whiterun there was to be a meeting for those who wanted to fight the Stormcloaks; and he thought, with a smile, those two Nords who decided to take him outside for a beating after he asked about the rumor were lucky he had gone easy on them, it likely being their first time encountering the Whispering Fang fighting style with someone not a Khajiit.

    The Nords had been more loose with their information once he had whipped them, and they divulged that, while it was nothing but gossip they had heard among the Dark Elves of the city, it was purported that a group of traitors to Ulfric were preparing to rebel against the High King, and they were meeting in the Hall of the Dead in Whiterun. Nachael shoved the two down in the snow, went inside to take his things out of his room, and was stopped by the barmaid. She claimed he had stolen his own belongings, a claim which he repudiated with a handful of Septims on the bar.

    He had bought passage to Whiterun immediately, and now here he was, a day later. Whiterun came into view over the horizon, and for a moment, doubt entered Nachael's mind. But if the rumor was true or not, he was thankful to be out of Windhelm, and as he always said, "Life is the greatest trainer in Tamriel."

    In the city, it took a few tries to find someone willing to direct Nachael to the Hall of the Dead. The Nord man who answered him looked suspiciously at the Redguard, who lied and said he had a relative there. The answer passed, and Nachael was free to enter. Nachael looked deep into the crypt and saw a gathering of people. A voice asked, "Are you here for the meeting?"
     

    Simus

    An Excellent Site Member
    The young Stormcloak stared at the redguard for a moment, thinking he might not have heard him from beneath his hood. "Citizen?" He asked again "Are you here for the meeting?"

    Before he could get an answer out of the man however, an argument around the bend of the hallway caught his attention.

    "...then I say you both are cowards!"
    "Cowards? How dare you call me that brother?! I defended this city from the Stormcloaks while you hid away! Even in a land under Ulfric's heel, I still wear my imperial armor with pride!"
    "You're a fool Idolaf! You've been arrested twice! How long before Ulfric himself comes down on you? On all of us? This isn't the way to resist him!"
    "What do you know about resisting Jon? I can't believe father still lets you live here! You haven't lifted a finger to help your family fight these rebels!"
    "You put your petty fighting before the end of the world! The World-Eater! Your hatred blinds you brother!"
    "That's enough! Both of you! You two are brothers and you will support each other! If we can show the Empire that Skyrim is still loyal to it, we may be re-admitted. We need help to do that, and your squabbling like children isn't getting us anywhere! I'm no happier about this arrangement than you are, but it's the best chance we've got! Now stow it!"
    "Yes father."
    "Yes father."

    John, Idolaf and Olfred Battle-Born turned the corner, pushing the redguard man aside and addressing the young greeter.

    "Patron Battle-Born. Are you-"

    "Yes yes, we're here for Vignar's...pardon me "Jarl Vignar's" little meeting. Now get out of our way so we can get this over with."

    The three Battle-Borns walked into the chamber and down the steps to where everyone was gathered at the feast table.

    "A rebellion against Ulfric has been called, and Clan Battle-Born has answered! I'm suprised to see you Grey-Manes here. What's the matter? Ulfric's agenda is no longer convenient for you?"

    Vignar became angry at this, but Simus gave him a look to sit down. He stood up with Alice and they both walked to greet Olfred and his kin. Alice immediately recognized Arillious and wanted to embrace him for being able to see him again so soon after their last adventure with Phoenix and R'alle. However, there were formalties to conduct, and she had to see to them before her own heart.

    "The presence of Clan Battle-Born is always welcome. Thank you for comming." Simus said with a handshake and an Imperial's smile to the head of the family. Idolaf turned to see Arillious and realized he recognized him.

    "Wait, I know you." Idolaf said "You're Captain Arillious Peleus. Did you really save the sword of General Tullius and keep it from those Stormcloak barbarians? If so, than well met brother. It's good to see another soldier of the Empire, especially in these dark times."

    "Indeed it is Captain Peleus." Simus said. "It's good to see you again. Welcome."

    "Watch how you address this man Simus. You may be an Imperial by birth but you and your whore of a daughter threw your lot in with Ulfric like those Grey-Manes. This whole situation is YOUR fault! How dare you even speak to this man, a true hero of the Empire, as if you two were equals?!"
     

    JBar2531

    Active Member
    Titus was on his way to Whiterun from Cyrodill, to see if this rebellion, created by Simus and Jarl Vignar,was true. He heard of it through his best friend, Lucius. As Titus arrived in Whiterun, he decided to wait outside the Hall of the Dead just in case it was a trap. He watched as five people entered, deciding to go in when he saw a Dark elf enter..
    "No way shes a Stormcloak." As he walked in he was greeted by a man, "Are you one of the Jarls guests?" he asked Titus.
    "Well, it depends on what the Jarl is doing now, doesnt it? If its about a certain 'uprising' then yes im one of his guests."
    "Follow me."
    When Titus arrived in the room he saw all of the people he watched walk in.
    Titus sat down and looked at the food. He didnt eat because nobody else was touching any of it.
    "Are you Simus?" he asked an older looking Imperial. Then 3 men, the Battle-Borns came down and started screaming at Simus and his daughter. Titus stood up and addressed the man, Idolaf.
    "Hey, dont you EVER call a woman that. You peice of trash."
     

    Gunnbjorn

    Formerly known as Arillious
    Arillious was surprised seeing his situation turn into something good, he had been ridden with nothing but bad luck for a long while.

    A man approached him, addressing Arillious as Captain, how he knew of Tullius' sword he did not know. But this could mean that Stormcloaks know this aswell, and even Ulfric.

    He took off his hood, and gave the man a quick nod.

    "Indeed it is Captain Peleus." Simus said. "It's good to see you again. Welcome."

    He was about to respond until the man cut him off.

    "Watch how you address this man Simus. You may be an Imperial by birth but you and your whore of a daughter threw your lot in with Ulfric like those Grey-Manes. This whole situation is YOUR fault! How dare you even speak to this man, a true hero of the Empire, as if you two were equals?!"

    A swift low-kick to the back of the femur knocked the man forward, onto his knees.

    He grabbed the long nordic hair of the half crippled man, and began to punch him again and again and again, until his own knuckles were bloodied and until his arm was tired.

    "Excuse me, maggot." he growled at the half conscious man with his most menacing look. "First of all, I don't know you, why you are acting as my squire, I do not know. It's safe to say you are a Battle-born? How can a betrayer of his own people have the right to say such things? Your a damn Nord who sided with the Empire in the middle of the Civil War. Not only that, it was in Skyrim! You are spitting your race in the face, IN your homeland. You are a disgrace to anyone who calls themselves soldiers. At least the Grey-manes fought for their land, as would I if Cyrodil were to ever get attacked. Secondly, these two fought for Ulfric because he made promises he never planned on keeping, they never knew his true plan, which is why it is not their fault. Third, the most important point of all - This "whore" is a woman I plan to marry, so next time you choose to say foolish things to a woman, you better make sure I am not around to hear it, or I will personally cut your tongue off, and shove it as far down your ear as possible, so only you can hear the stupidity and foolishness that you oh so love to say."


    He casually pushed the man back, allowing him to fall on the ground, he ended by spitting on the mans face.

    He turned around, facing Simus and Alice, returning to his calm and collected self.

    "Now, as I was about to say, What the hell is going on? I was chased into this tomb by some Stormcloaks. Why are you two and the Jarl down here, and why are all these people gathered around asking for you?"





     

    JBar2531

    Active Member
    Titus laughed as the man known Arillious beat Idolaf. Titus hated when men mistreated woman. He was happy this man stuck up for the girl he loves.
    "Captain Peleus, its a pleasure to meet you. My name is Titus Marius." Titus offered his hand to his superior, who was younger than him. "I never got to fight after I was injured in the Reach, because my father, Legate Aulus Marius, sent me back to Cyrodill. He still treats me like a child."
     

    The OP3RaT0R

    Call me Op. Or Smooth.
    The greeter who had stepped from a shadow next to the doorway asked once more. "Citizen? Are you here for the meeting?"

    Nachael held his hand up to the greeter and asked for him to be quiet a moment. He listened in on the shouting that was coming from the group he observed. The discourse was about Ulfric Stormcloak, and it was not kind. "Yes, I suppose I am. Would you be so kind?" he said, pointing down the corridor. "I suppose that not just anyone is allowed into this meeting. I hope I'm what that man wants." He glanced at the Jarl, though he did not know what a Jarl was. The Jarl's fine clothes marked him as the man in charge. The greeter led him down the hall and said, "I'm sure you'll fit."
     

    Gunnbjorn

    Formerly known as Arillious
    Arillious caught yet another man approach him out of the corner of his eye. A man by the name of Titus properly introduced himself.

    "Captain Peleus, its a pleasure to meet you. My name is Titus Marius."

    Arillious accepted the man's handshake.


    "I never got to fight after I was injured in the Reach, because my father, Legate Aulus Marius, sent me back to Cyrodill. He still treats me like a child."

    "That's a shame, but your father's decision was for the better. Many Legion soldiers have died, and your injury would have brought you to a great disadvantage, the Stormcloak Siege could have been the end to you, as it was for many others. I long to return to Cyrodil and help the Empire retaliate after such a loss."

     

    Linamina

    Well-Known Member
    Eilene took her seat but ate nothing, just watched everyone she would be joining arms with against Ulfric. So far, it wasn't a promising sight, already seeing a few members shouting their teeth out at each other. It put her teeth on edge, being around rather violent men, deciding to have a cup of tea while mixing a little sugar in it.

    She sighed as she mixed her tea just as a new imperial man was now beating some Nord's skull in after calling a girl a whore. "This new rebellion will get nowhere if we're already fighting amongst ourselves before it's even started." She stated rather calmly, not really caring if she got yelled at in return. She was used to words and insults but when it came to blows she knew she wouldn't be so calm then. Hell a part of her already wanted to leave but she knew better.
     

    The OP3RaT0R

    Call me Op. Or Smooth.
    Nachael walked up to the quarreling fray a moment after he watched a Dunmer woman sit down. She looked uncomfortable. He cut into the bickering and asked, "Who should I talk to about joining this rebellion?" A few of the men glanced at him, but they quickly returned to their argument. He presumed they weren't in charge. Nachael glanced at the Dunmer woman once more, and then spoke up. "So, how did you come to be here?"
     

    JBar2531

    Active Member
    "Thats what people tell me. But I felt like a coward sitting in my home with nothing to worry about as my friends risked their lives. Or lost them. I would have rather died for the Empire than dealing with theives." Titus turned around and grabbed a mead from the table, opened it and started to drink. This was what he did when he was in the Imperial City, while his friends were slaughtered.....
     

    Linamina

    Well-Known Member
    Eilene pointed at Simus to answer Nacheal's first question. "Him." The second question wasn't so easy to answer for the later part. "I came after receiving a letter. Apparently half of Skyrim knows about me when I would have nothing to do with them. Not after what happened in the Grey Quarter..." She sipped her tea and sighed in relief. "I came here because I have nothing else to fight for except to see Ulfric's throat slit wide open..." A tear drops from each eye, but little more.

    "What about you..what would bring you to this already unpromising sight?" She asked softly, not known to be the one to see the best in things.
     

    The OP3RaT0R

    Call me Op. Or Smooth.
    Nachael replied, "I've been wandering most of Tamriel for years, trying to learn everything I can to make myself a better warrior, and something always kept me out of Skyrim... maybe it was the cold. But anyway, something drew me here not long ago. I bought passage from Sentinel to Windhelm, and when I got there, with no coin left, I learned how intolerant the people there are. Two nights ago I learned of this rebellion in the tavern, and I hired a carriage to take me here."

    He stopped. "But you probably didn't want to know my life's story. In short, I despise intolerance and it seemed like a good idea. Would it be my place to ask what happened in the Grey Quarter?" Nachael worried he may have struck a nerve, but he had said it.
     

    Simus

    An Excellent Site Member
    "Over two thousand Dunmer rebelled against Ulfric's rule." Simus interjected, sparing his Dunmer colleague the pain of having to relive that terrible day. "That's almost twenty percent of the Grey Quarter's population. Two hundred and six mer died that day, along with about fifty Nords, Stormcloak and civillian. Over a thousand people on both sides were injured in the fighting. Brunewulf Free-Winter and I did our best to quell the mob but those people had been too mad for too long. Their hatred for Ulfric exploded and it took five thousand men to stop it. The Grey Quarter is now under Martial Law. Any Dunmer found outside before ten in the morning or six in the evening is liable to be arrested or killed."

    Simus put a hand on his colleague's shoulder, giving her a small smile, an indication that he was happy to see her.

    "My friend here lost some very dear kin as a result of it all. So please, come to me with any questions."

    Alice only paid mild attention to her father's conversation with the handsome redguard. Considering the man she loved had basically proposed to her, and had just beaten the snot out of one of the most arrogant Nords she had ever met to boot, she was a little distracted. Normally she and her father would be quick to stop such disputes but considering the circumstances of this meeting, such head bashing was to be expected. Getting disparate groups to work together was always difficult, especially those such as the Gray-Manes and Battle-Borns. So, they allowed it to happen. Plus, after what Idolaf had just called her, Alice took great pleasure in him being beaten. He deserved every drop of blood dripping from his broken nose.

    She went up to Arillious and wrapped her arms around his chest, laying her head against it as if it were a pillow.

    "I am so hot for you right now." She breathed. She than got up on her toes and gave Arillious a long, passionate kiss.

    "Yes.'' She whispered in his ear.
     

    The OP3RaT0R

    Call me Op. Or Smooth.
    "I'm so sorry," Nachael said with a look of remorse on his face, "I tend to speak before I think. It's taken me all over Tamriel, but I don't regret that. Again, sorry to have stirred up painful memories." He gave a slight smile before he stood up and walked over to Simus.

    "Sir, I was wondering, what exactly do you plan for our little group here to do? A rebellion is a fine idea, but from what I gather, Ulfric's own rebellion seemed like a fine idea until he gave the Nords free reign to oppress the other races in Skyrim. Also, did you craft those ebony blades yourself? They're a fine pair of weapons." Nachael already liked this man; Simus looked old enough to know what he was doing on the battlefield and he was quick to come to Eliene's rescue from his own thoughtlessness. This was a man he could learn from, and Nachael loved to learn.
     

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