Macman253

I've got a plan... but it's Mythics go and she hasn't been feeling well the last few days.

Good to see you back Steff

The Hanged Man on a dark night was a beacon in Low-Town, vagabonds, thieves, dockworkers and sailors all came to The Hanged Man or The Blooming Rose, the two premiere attractions in Kirkwall. The city itself was a living and breathing beast that truly awakened at night. Currently the place was filled with a party of dwarves that drank and caroused while they spent enormous amounts of gold earned from their recent return from the Deep Roads. Sitting around the bar counter in the right corner of the room next to the door was the usual crowd, mostly street vendors and dockworkers but in the corner, far from the light of the hearth sat a lone figure. Small in stature but athletically built, his face was hidden behind the deep hood of his leather cloak. A slender and young woman who routinely made trips from the kitchen to the dwarves table came by with a plate of pork and a fresh cup of beer, she gave the mystery man a quick wink as she served him his order and left. "Hey Corff, who's the guy in the corner?" Asked a ratty dark haired human. He was young and strong, a well used blade rested next to him. He wore a thick leather cuirass and had the rough hands of an experienced swordsmen. The Bartender set his leather rag down on the table and the other regulars looked to the young man that had asked the question. Corff smiled and leaned in as if to speak a whisper. "He is a man I will not cross by answering that question..." Replied the wizened old man. The swordsmen looked over his shoulder at the mysterious figure and smiled, "He doesn't look so tough..." Said the swordsmen with a cocky tone and a not so restrained sense of aggression. "I would have a harder time gutting a knife-ear..." He added and drank deep of his cup. The other patrons looked to the young warrior and then one another. Corff chuckled and removed the cup he had been drinking and hid it behind the counter, "I think you have had enough... the drink is getting the best of you lad." Spoke the bartender, he hoped taking away the booze would make the warrior come to reason but the hard stare that was fixed to him told him all he knew of the upcoming events. The Warrior glared hard at the bartender, he reached out like a coiled snake and pulled the bartender close to him, nearly hauling him over the counter. "I should beat you for that... but I think I'll beat him instead..." Growled the Warrior, one of the men at the counter finally found his words. "Calm down Gerall... he meant nothin' by it." Gerall let go of Corff and snatched up his blade, he pulled the sword free and stormed towards where the stranger sat but when he got close enough the man had vanished. It was then that Gerall found himself flying face first into the wooden wall behind the chair where the mystery man sat. He quickly composed himself and wildly slashed at the darkness as the world spun around him and his mind began to clear of the fog from the hit. He felt a shadow move to his right and he slashed there too but only cut air, in the seconds after all light within the tavern vanished in a large gust of wind that blew out all the candles that had lit the room and the fire faded to a low ember, the only solid light was that of the moon shining through a window that illuminated the center of the tavern. The only sound Gerall could hear was the loud crunch of a man biting into an apple that seemed to come from the walls. "Reveal yourself coward!" Yelled the Warrior as he swiped at the darkness, the young mercenary had fought many foes but he had never fought darkness itself, despite all his rage he could not choke down the exponentially growing fear within himself. He turned circles in hopes of finding his foe and after three turns he saw only one thing, in the center of the ray of moonlight that shone down in the middle of the tavern was a bright red apple with a large chunk missing from it's side. A soft and soothing voice came from behind him, 'Only a true fool enters a battle he cannot win.... I suggest you leave this place amigo.' Spoke the formless voice, it's accent a strong Antivan that seemed to echo through the Tavern. The onlookers knew exactly what this meant and waited with baited breath as the events played out. Gerall backhand slashed at the source of the voice only to have his blade strike the stone wall with a loud clang that caused the weathered metal to shatter into pieces. Gerall roared in pain as the rebounding vibration ran up his arm. It was then that the mercenary felt the tell tale cold of a blades edge to his throat, he knew that in a hearts beat he would be dead and he closed his eyes, as he did his violent and bloody life passed before his eyes. In his life as a soldier-for-hire he had never been bested without laying a single blow on his opponent. He waited for the blade to run along his neck but it never moved, he opened his eyes to the blinding light of a fully lit tavern and the mystery man had been long gone. Corff stood at the bar with a wide smile on his face, Gerall stared blankly at the now open door for a long while as he contemplated what had happened. When he finally came to reality he looked to Corff, "Who was that?" Asked the Mercenary. Corff smiled and set out a fresh cup of beer for him, "That my friend... was The Wind."

Felix and Svarn kept in the back of their caravan, they talked quite a lot and over their time of travel they had become quick friends. Svarn didn't talk as much as the enthusiastic imperial but when Felix had asked him about his past he simply replied with a shrug. Felix had noticed that the population of their party had increased again and now they were in high numbers, enough that it made attacking Labryinthian a very plausible operation. Svarn had kept away from the altmer, he distrusted them but he never went out of his way to show it. He spent his time scouting the outskirts of their caravan and hunting small game for food. Felix on the other hand had became very interested in their sudden rise in the mer population, over the last few days a flood of elves had joined their party. He was beginning to think his services would no longer be needed just by the sheer numbers they now possessed.

The Ilana raced across the sea with a storm at her heels, the ship cut through waves with explosive bursts of sea water that shook the ship and forced every man to grasp onto the sturdiest thing nearby, only Wind stood at the bow with one hand on a rope and the other holding a telescope to his eye. The sea began to get rougher as the storm began to catch them and Wind's fears began to grow, if that storm caught them they would be tossed about until they capsized and all her crew would likely perish, He would not allow that for as long as he was Captain. After a few minutes checking his course a young dwarf with large crystal spectacles and a casteless tattoo approached and saluted, "C-Captain, our c-c-course is good b-but the storm is faster then we are, should we deploy the kite-sail?" He asked, Wind thought for a long moment and nodded. A minute after the command was given one of the large siege ballista that usually belonged on a Qunari Dreadnought fired a massive bolt into the air that exploded into a large sail double the size of their own when a strong enough wind caught it and the Ilana was lurched forward hard enough to send any unmounted objects spilling to the floor and her crew to fall on their faces. The quick jerk of the ship sent the young dwarf stumbling for the railing but Winds quick hands and feet allowed him to move for a length of rope coiled on the deck, he quickly whipped the rope around the dwarfs midsection and caught the other end of it to abruptly stop the navigator from going over the side, with a heavy heave he pulled the dwarf onto his rump and rushed to his side. 'Careful Mr. Stoneshield... I recommend you get below decks!' He yelled over the storm, the gale force winds were loud enough that it felt like being deaf at times. The red-haired dwarf nodded and obeyed his Captain command without question. Only a handful of men remained on the decks during the storm out of necessity. After twelve hard hours the Storm had turned west to leave the Ilana sailing happily south towards Kirkwall. In celebration of their survival Wind ordered a pair of casks cracked open and a meal prepared much to their Orlesian cook's pleasure, the burly chef came up from the galley. LeFleur was a large man from too many years of eating his own cooking but he was the favored cook of an Orlesian Prince, Wind spent a fortune to aquire his exclusive services and every time he enjoyed on of LeFleur's meals he silently admitted it was the best investment he had ever made. The next morning the Ilana drifted into Kirkwall's harbor and docked, Wind had ordered shore-leave for his crew and the sea-rogues happily departed, many for the Blooming Rose. Wind stayed behind, it had been sometime since he had last seen Kirkwall, the battle between the Circle and the Chantry had decimated most of the High Town area, the relative peace it once had now a long distant memory. After a good while he threw his Sea Hydra cloak on and slid his Crow-Blades into his belt and left his ship for The Hanged Man.

I will be getting mine back... I might be an injured man but I know how to kick a little ass...

Sorry I havent been posting... my laptop was stolen and I am not able to get on the forums without heading down to the library, until I can replace it (which shouldn't take long) I wont be posting very often.

Wind grasped the ladder-ropes along the mast to the Ilana as she sped alongside a Antivan spice ship that was homebound. His crew waited at the ready with crossbows and cutlasses, five of the ten large heavy repeating bolt-throwers were trained on the three masted vessel that had slacked sails and currently was sailing under the rowing power of it's slaves. The Sloop quickly closed it's distance and came within range of the powerful siege ballista. 'Load chain bolts!' He commanded, the order echoed throughout the crew and five chain-bolts were loaded. A Chain-Bolt was a standard bolt that had been cut in half and during travel it would split and begin to spin with enough force to cut through rigging and people alike like a sawblade. A burly dwarf with fading red hair and encroaching grey hair turned the massive wheel to level out their pursuit. Of the fifty men aboard the Ilana all of them were prepared to lay down their lives in pursuit of gold and adventure aswell as their Captain. Wind raised his hand to steady the men and watched with a hunters eye as they came close enough, he dropped his hand and the large bolts flew from the ballista with a loud clang that sent them high into the rigging, the chains tore through rope and sail effortlessly and the heavy weighted metal chain broke and destroyed the wooden mast. The loud groan of the wood protested as it was severed and refused to fall but after a long few moments it finally topped onto the deck with an ear shattering crash. 'Boarding Hooks!' Wind commanded and the deckhands quickly gathered the wicked five prong hooks the size of dogs and tied off the accompanying ropes to the mast. When their ships were side to side crossbow bolts sped through the air as they exchanged close quarters fire. 'Over the side men!' He yelled as he drew one of his twin one-handed crossbows and fired. The bolt struck a deckhand fumbling with a small repeater mounted on a swivel in the neck and he went down clutching the quarrel. Wind tightly grasped the rope he was holding onto and drew one of his Crow-Blades and cut it free of the anchor-rig and swung across the gap along with the many boarders hidden in the folds of their sails. They dropped onto the deckhouse and took the captain and his command crew by complete surprise. The second his boots hit wood he drew his daggers mate and took at the Marines like a torrent, in a heartbeat the first two marines clad in metal armor and wielding halberds were down. A spindly man wearing a broad hat moved his hands in a mockery of a dance and began to speak and incantation but Wind silenced him with a throwing star to the forehead that caused his robed body to go limp. Before the ships Captain could react Wind was on him with one of his Crow-Blades to his neck and the other to his manhood. 'Sound the surrender amigo' He said in a heavy Antivan accent, the man wore the standard of House Dres of Antiva, a well known spice trading empire that required many slaves to function. He raided only slaving ships and as such he had become known as the Sea Crow. The deep brown skinned Captain glared at Wind and nodded to his trumpeter which raised his bugle and played the tune that stopped the massive fight aboard the slave-ships deck. With the battle over he slid the pair of blades into the sheathes on his shoulder blades and extended his hand. 'I accept your surrender Capitan' He said politely as his crew began to free the malnourished slaves from the depths of the ship and cart them over to the Ilana shortly before the fortune in spices and gold had begun to trickle up from her stores. A bulky Qunari carrying a massive curved scimitar-like greatsword approached. He had several fresh cuts on his exposed torso and countless more that had become scars. "Captain... we need to hurry, we should finish up now and turn towards Kirkwall. If we race we can beat the coming storm." Called the First Mate as he pointed towards the distant clouds. Wind looked and noted them with a nod, after a long minute he returned his eyes to Ven. 'You are right Mr. Ven, have the men carry all that they can and put the crew of this ship in longboats with a weeks worth of rations and fresh water.' Wind commanded, the Qunari gave him a salute and began relaying his orders. Wind smiled and turned to the Captain, he pulled a tightly wrapped cigar from inside his armor chest piece and struck a match on the wooden railing. After a long moment of puffing on it he turned his eyes back to the Captain, 'So tell me senor, Do you know what it is like to row all day with a massive oar?' He asked with a wicked smile as two of his crewmen grabbed the protesting noblemen and drug him below decks and locked him into the restraints used by the slaves to row the fifty foot long oar.

I would prefer Kirkwall, only because the aftermath of the battle between the Chantry and the Circle would make for a good setting.

I was planning on Starting in Kirkwall but I have a ship so Orlais can be done... but I know nothing about Orlais since I never played Awakening.

I think that would work but maybe alittle different. I'll re-edit.

You have a point... hmm i'll have to think on it.

Shes a Pirate... if a pirate wants a ship it isn't hard to get one.

Yeah and that could have lead to her return to Kirkwall... that event took place during her flight and the attack by the Hydra is what forced her to return to Kirkwall with the book. While that was happening Wind and the Isabela were at sea. I'll re-edit it since I really like that story, he thinks shes dead but in reality she's alive and probably in Kirkwall somewhere or back in Rivain.

It's set several weeks after the end of DA2 but the last game was set during it. I didn't see a set timeline, I would have thought it being atleast a year later.

I have wanted to play as Wind once again and now I finally can... The Wind Comes. Gender: Male Race: Elf (Dalish) Age: 29 Class: Rogue Occupation: Former Crow Assassin, Pirate. APPEARANCE: Height: 5' 5" Weight: 180 Pounds Hair: Blonde Eyes: Blue and Green Skin: Slightly Brown Handedness: Ambidextrous Scars/Tattoos: Numerous scars from his youth, tally marks on his arms for his kills as a Crow with a Dalish marital tattoo on his face. A House Of Crows Tattoo on his right forearm and a Dalish tattoo on his neck that means 'Cursed Wind' General Physical Description: Voice: Soft and kind, heavy Antivan accent. Disabilities: Clothing/Armor: Drake Scale Leather armor with Sea Hydra skin cloak draped over his shoulder and a gold Kraken Brooch Weapons: A pair of one-handed crossbows and throwing knives, Luvana and Isabela (His twin Crow-Blades) Visual Appearance: http://fc08.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2011/135/f/3/zevran_by_maguaii-d3gdu2p.jpg PERSONALITY: General Personality Traits: Likes: Fine drinks, pretty girls and stealing gold. Dislikes: Any form of law, Templars and Blood Mages. Fears: Being on Land for too long, imprisonment. Attitudes towards friends/strangers: Very friendly and very wary. Opinion of the world: Looks out for his crew and himself HISTORY: Past: Born in Antiva in a Dalish Clan but was taken by the Crows at a young age, he remembers very little of his childhood outside of the Crows. His natural agility and prowess gave him a boost to his skills and after many bloody trials he was given his pair of Crow-Blades and whetted them on the necks of a pair of Merchant-Princes who refused to pay the Crows, after completing his debt of a thousand lives he left the Crows and moved to Kirkwall. In Kirkwall he set himself up as a freelance assassin, there he recived numerous contracts which he took to greedily, amassing himself a nice fortune, despite his riches he lived at The Hanged Man and it became known to those that sought him to ask for The Wind At The Hanged Man, it was in Kirkwall that he bought himself a fine ship and a crew to sail the oceans as a pirate and smuggler. He quickly became known for his daring escapades and bravado. The bounty he earned for his head was high and against all odds he constantly eluded capture. While holed up in Orlais he met Ilana, a beautiful dark haired half-elf that he instantly fell in love with. She desired adventure above all others and she fell in with his crew, after many months at sea she was lost during a Sea Hydra's attack that nearly sank his vessel. Wind mourned her loss extensively and the crew renamed their ship in her honor. Birthplace: Amongst The Dalish Family/Relationships: A Wife (somewhere) Friends: His crew. Enemies: The Antivan Crows, The Templars and most ships on the ocean. OTHER INFORMATION Skills and feats: Expert Poison Making Expert Combat Expertise Expert Combat Tactics Expert Coercian Expert Stealing Pinning Shot Lacerate Backstab Twin Fangs Miasmic Flask Armistice Goad Twist The Knife Evade Stealth Assassins Mark Pinpoint Strikes Assassinate

No complaints... just answering Auriana's question. I liked it very much, I must admit we are building quite the little force of warriors here... were working on what, seven people.

Most likely it will be Legate Rikke... she was his aide de comp during the civil war so she would have likely been promoted and put into command. Secondly I suspected our hunt for the Thalmor would take us to the Reach which is why I created Svarn... he was a legion scout and a scout for Markarth against the Forsworn so it would be interesting to see a battle over the Reach.

Been awhile Chrys... good to see you again. So I broke the silence... aaaannnddd now were off to the races :biggrin:

Felix stood after the dunmer introduced themselves and smiled, he kept a fair distance from them but always within earshot. His interest was mostly in the Ordinator he wanted to know if he was here to find the thief or for other purposes. After a few minutes he approached the Nord fellow with the hound and offered him his hand, Svarn took the strangers hand and shook it. 'Hail my Nord friend... thank you for your aid.' He said as the Nord unstrung his bow and removed a sharpening stone to sharpen his axe. Svarn looked to the imperial with a keen eye, he noticed the man had a blindfold over his eyes and expected him to be blind but he had seen the man fight like a daedra so he must be faking his blindness. Fenrir walked up to the stranger and nuzzled his hand for a petting which he gave and the half-wolf enjoyed the little bit of affection. 'No problem....' Svarn replied and spit on the stone to lubricate it and began sharpening the large battle-axe. Felix smiled and sat next to him, 'I am Felix... what's your name?' He asked. Svarn looked to the blind Imperial and chuckled. 'Svarn... he's Fenrir.' Svarn lifted the heavy battle-axe fairly effortlessly and noted the fine etching and detail work in the head of the axe, at one time this was a favored weapon but it was cut down and repurposed into a tool aswell as a weapon by it's previous owner.

Felix smiled but kept out of the way, his blindness would only interfere but he walked over to Okuras' body and whispered a blessing of Arkay. "Sweet Arkay... embrace this warrior into your arms and show her the beauty and serenity she so justly deserves." He prayed, he made the ten pointed star of Arkay across his chest and walked over to the group. --------------------------------------------------------------- Svarn listened in on their conversation after he turned out the pockets of the Thalmor he had killed, he earned easily twice the bounty from killing these elves then he would earn from the bandits but when they mentioned Whiterun and the Thalmor attack he quickly became interested. If there were more Thalmor they were near Labryinthian they would need a guide up the mountains. He dug his woodcutter's axe Fjorlag into a piece of felled wood and grabbed the nearest Thalmor corpse and tossed it onto a pile. 'If you are heading into Hjaalmarch why don't I come with you?' He said as he grasped another Thalmor and added him to the pile. Svarn swept back his hood to reveal his face, it had been hardened by time and rough living and his hair was coarse and thin from lack of washing properly, his hound didn't look much better. Fenrir had found himself a nice and wide stick and brought it to Svarn, the burly Nord chuckled and drew his knife, de-branched the stick and hurled it into the darkness and Fenrir happily gave chase. After tossing another corpse on the pile Fenrir came back dragging a broad-axe and set it down at his feet. Svarn picked up the axe and inspected it. The haft had the words 'A Woodsman's Friend' carved into it and the head was heavier then it should be, the haft itself was a full three inches shorter, he flipped it around in his hands and found it to be very balanced despite these imperfections, he gave Fenrir a soft scratch behind the ear in thanks.

I was wondering if it would be okay if I gave Svarn a better weapon. I was thinking of giving him a battleaxe. I figure he tosses a stick for Fenrir and the wolf comes back with The Woodsman's Friend since that is the weapon I am currently using my Svarn character in-game and I think it looks totally badass.

After a nights hard ride he arrived at Dawnstar, this ratty fishing village on the coast of the Sea Of Ghosts had become a home to him. When he rode through the city itself no one dared look him in the eye for they knew what he was but the salty old Jarl did, he stared directly into Aventus' eyes and he knew he was determined to see the assassin strung up on the deck of his ship but he never could prove what Aventus was. After his ride through the city he arrived at the Black Door, carved into the hard wood was the Red Hand Of Sithis and the mark of the Dark Brotherhood. He slid gingerly from Shadowmere and approached with the reins in his hand. "What.. is.. life's.. greatest illusion." The door asked, the infernal voice echoing through his mind. Aventus smiled and replied. 'Innocence my brother...' The door creaked open to reveal a large tunnel the descended into the earth. "Welcome... Home..." It said as it opened, Aventus and Shadowmere entered and the door closed behind them. Deep underground was the home of his budding family, Nazir frustratingly worked over the countless assassination orders to find those that held the most significance and urgency while the stream of others poured in daily, the old Redguard had gotten grey with worry but the dark haired Breton girl who hummed a tuneless song as she mixed alchemical ingredients ignored the frustrations of Nazir. Aventus smiled and removed his facemask and drew back his hood to reveal his handsome features, the Imperial had grown up in the dark recesses of the Falkreath sanctuary and this had become his home. He tied off Shadowmere and tossed him some hay and walked down into the main room where Babette and Nazir were working, they had become his support team with Babette mixing his poisons and potions and taking contracts he could not fulfill and Nazir handling the assignments and logistics, in the years when he first met the Redguard he carried a scimitar but now he didn't carry it but it sat within reach. Babette was the first to notice him but he wasn't surprised, slipping by a 300 year old vampire-child was no easy feat but every time he tried he got a little closer then before. "Ah Aventus... I have something I want you to try out later... it is... bloody." She said as he walked by, Nazir stood and tossed him a bundle of letters. "Here take this to Neralla... she can assign them out." He said hurriedly, Aventus grabbed a piece of bread from the table and stuck it between his teeth as he turned and left for the training room across the bridge. Before he even got to the wood-slat bridge he heard Neralla's booming voice as she drilled the recruits, in the last few months they had seen five new recruits which she had been brutally pushing. Neralla herself was a tall and burly Altmer that shaved her head as to look more like a man, said it helped her on her contracts but Aventus knew why. Many years ago she was a city guard in Markarth and while out on patrol she was attacked by Forsworn who captured and tortured her for days, in her imprisonment she performed the Black Sacrament and Aventus came to rescue her... she had nothing to offer but her loyalty and he accepted it after he gutted her torturer and her captors. He tapped Neralla on the shoulder and gave her the contracts when she turned. 'Give these out... send the recruits on their first ones. Poor Nazir is going insane with all the letters we are receiving.' He said as he watched the two Khajiit twins who were practicing with wooden swords begin to brawl over which one was better. Aventus could only laugh... all those two did was fight with one another and bicker like children. Neralla took the letters and began reading them. "A lot of these are old Brotherhood clients... it seems everyday we take more contracts from them." She said idly as she sorted them, Aventus chuckled. 'You speak like that's a bad thing, when your done meet me at the table I have some information for everyone.' He said as he turned and left. A few minutes later they were all gathered around the large table that seated over twenty with Aventus at the head. When all eyes were on him he informed them of his last contract much to the shock of some of his family. "So your telling me Astrid didn't kill you when she had the chance..." Nazir said to finally break the lingering silence, Aventus nodded in reply. "Well... what are your plans for dealing with this?" He asked, Aventus knew they needed to recover the Night Mother. His father Uriel was the Listener and with her here it would infuriate Astrid. 'We find and recover the Night Mother...' And just then every assassin that had been sitting jumped up in shock, the reason they had survived for so long was that they did not possess the Night Mother and they agreed to never walk down that path again. Babette smiled and looked at Nazir, "I knew you would do this someday... I think I might know where she put the Night Mother but getting to it will not be easy..." She said as Aventus raised his hand for silence from the many voices that opposed his decision. 'Where is it?' He asked, the vampire girl smiled widely to reveal her fangs. "Deepscorn Hollow..." She replied...

Felix sat on the body of a thalmor and struck up his pipe. The battle was over and he needed a smoke, Felix heard the Ordinator speak and slid his hood over his face to hide it, some years ago he broke into the Mournhold Keep and stole a very valuable artifact left by the Nerevarine, he drew a dagger from his belt and cut four notches into his staff as he puffed gently on his pipe. 'It's pretty banged up... they sacked it but paid dearly for it, the survivors split into two groups.' He said to the Ordinator while keeping his head low. 'The second group went towards Labryinthian...' Felix added as he reduced his staff from it's battle length and tucked it into the sheath on his hip. Svarn spun Fjorlag to clear the blood and gore from it and pulled his knife free of the dead elf. Fenrir came up to him and licked his hand for a petting, Svarn smiled and pulled a small piece of horker jerky from a pouch on his belt and fed it to him and gave him a quick patting. When the two Dunmer began to speak with the party he rolled over the corpse of a dead elf and searched his pockets. After finding some gold and jewelry he moved onto the next one, these strangers seemed to want nothing to do with him so he kept out of their way. Fenrir stood close to Svarn and locked eyes on the two Khajiit and began to growl but Svarn tapped him on the nose to correct his behavior.

Felix cracked a smile as he took a run at a large boulder and jumped high into the air, he extended his staff to battle length and plummeted feet first into an unsuspecting Thalmor, the strike sent him to the dirt. Felix landed with the grace of a khajiit and slipped around the wild crossing swings of the elven blade, the roar of battle gave him perfect vision and he relished it. The Thalmor was filled with visible rage at how Felix moved and countered every strike he threw at him but when Felix tired of toying with him he shattered the elves knee with a powerful swing of his staff and broke his face with a backhanded strike, he grasped a pair of throwing knives and hurled them into the necks of a pair of Thalmor that charged him. The acrobat put the pommel of his staff as he ran at another thalmor and used it to leverage himself into a dropkick that sent the fully-armored Thalmor Justicar flying over a rock and landing with a sickening crack of his neck. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Svarn burst from the bushes to the left flank of the now dwindling Thalmor, a large curved hunting knife in his offhand and Fjorlag gripped tightly in his main-hand. He came in like a blizzard with a wild strike from Fjorlag that rended the legs out from under a Thalmor agent and a final strike from his hunting knife. Svarn left the knife in the dying elves throat and blocked a overhead chop from his partner and delivered a kick to the groin that freed them from their grapple, Svarn followed up with a hard swing that took the reeling Elves head clean off. 'I swear by Talos you will die here today!' He roared at the Thalmor that ran, he placed his fingers to his lips and let out an ear piercing whistle and with that the large white and black half-wolf leapt from the bushes and easily ran down the Thalmor, in a struggle of ripping and tearing and horrified screaming the Thalmor met his end on the teeth of Fenrir.