Zephyr2011

Do we know who's post it is? I get the sense that everyone is waiting for someone else to post something, but doesn't necessarily need someone to do anything, if that makes sense haha. Should I go ahead?

hmm, never pictured him with warpaint. Looks great!

Ra'Qassar ran to the whole where the Thalmor had escaped and took off after them, leading the way. "Follow me!" It was not hard to follow the elves as burnt bodies and scorched stones were everywhere along their path. Fortunately for the group, nearly all of the draugr had been destroyed by the Thalmor or were wary of approaching, so Ra'Qassar ran along unhindered. As they progressed he could tell that they were gaining. The scent of soot and smoke grew stronger as he ran. He was positive that they had flame cloak spells and that was how they had made such good time. It did not matter though. The companions were fresher and had less dangers to face than the elves had had. ------------------------- Galus was still dripping from the water in the strange cave system. Now he lead the group through the hall of stories. He hoped to the nine that there was some sort of escape route at the end of all this. He didn't expect any mercy from people who would sooner aid the undead than the living in that chamber. His four companions came up panting an short of breath near a large stone doorway. This was it. He could feel it. The throne room, the place where the dragon priests had held court. Beyond these doors would lie something more horrible than the dragon. He only hoped that beyond that lay salvation. ------------------------ Ra'Qassar waded through a stream in a great cavern, glancing over his shoulder to see if the rest of the group was following. He trudged on, hot on the trail of the Thalmor. The cavern gave way to the ruin once again, a hall of stories wasn't far. He knew they were getting extremely close. The hall was open all the way and through it he could see the five Thalmor puzzling at a different sort of door. Ra'Qassar held up his hand as a signal to stop not far from the Thalmor and he drew his bow about 30 yards from the elves. "Your justice is at hand, Thalmor scum." He said in a low growl. ------------------------------ Galus turned to see the hodge-podge group approach, two khajiit, a dark elf, a high elf, two imperials and a nord. An interesting lot, to be sure. But, he knew that his little band could not take them. Their magicka was exhausted, or nearly so. They had let down their cloaks some time ago, but were still drained. Galus began to ready his energies, preparing to loose some spells when all of a sudden the door behind them rumbled and shook before exploding in a barrage of stony rubble. He jerked a look over his shoulder. His companions were all still alive, but two had sustained injuries from the blast, dust clung in the air as four sets of those pale blue, icy eyes peered at them. Between those though a face emerged. ----------------------------- Baltis lowered his hand, whisps of destruction magic still clinging to it. "Ah, so you're the Faramel lad. I imagined that you might keep the Thalmor close at hand. I had never guessed that you would be working with the Thalmor though." A dangerous smile played across Llervu's lips as his minions spread out in an arc. ---------------------------- Galus's eyes widened slightly, but at the stranger's comment his eyes narrowed. Suddenly a massive swirl of red energy was around him, leaping hungrily at everything around him. His companions stared at him in horror as he raised both hands. Four great fiery orbs leapt from his fingertips and spun angrily at each of the other Thalmor. With their magickal resistances lowered by the cloak spell, the elves burned. Their skin was like paper, their flesh gave way like bundles of twigs and their bones like pine bows. As the screams of his command echoed in the hall, Galus turned to face the dark elf completely. "I'm not."

Ra'Qassar heard Felix and nodded, rising from Sienna. She would make her own decision, he could do nothing for her now. He drew his bow and selected an array of bodkins with hollow points. He drew fourth several vials of a thick, crimson substance and dipped the arrows into it as quickly as possible. With his arsenal ready, he let loose. Shaft after shaft flew from his quiver, through his fingers, sailing through the air and struck the great dragon. The bodkins bit and sank deep into the ancient bones as bright merry flames burst from each wound. The poisonous fires seemed the antithesis to the beast's cold hatred. The monstrosity reared and came down with a crash, crushing one of the Thalmor before unleashing an icy gale upon Ra'Qassar. The Khajiit tucked and rolled behind a pillar, hugging it to protect himself from the arcane cold. He nimbly ran from pillar to pillar loosing arrows at the massive dragon. He had run out of his poison, but that did not stop him from unleashing his barrage of bodkins on the beast. He was beginning to run short however, and he knew the dangers of Labyrinthian. He did not want to be without his armor-piercing arrows for the rest of the dungeon. He stowed his bow and drew his sword and shield just as a skeleton came around his pillar and attacked. Ra'Qassar ducked expertly under a heavy two-handed battleaxe, bashing upwards with his shield to destabilize his opponent before running his sword up the skeleton's chin, decapitating it and piercing the skull. ------------------------------------------------------------------ Galus and his four companions ran as fast as they could through the horrible dungeon. "Cloaks!" He bellowed and they all cast cloaks of fire and ran faster. A few draugr approached them but stumbled backwards as they burst into flame. Galus spared a glance over his shoulder in time to see one stumble into a pile of oil, incinerating it and about a dozen other undead. He also spotted the remains of many others who had tried to attack them, they had all succumbed to the fires. Not surprising with three destruction adepts, and two destruction experts running with flame cloaks. They finally stopped and panted in a junction where the crypt-like ruins opened into a large cavern, complete with a rushing underground river. Their cloaks still burned so they were largely protected while they recuperated a bit and examined this strange twist. While they caught their breath, ate a small bit of their rations and quaffed a few restorative potions, Galus noticed two more pairs of glowing blue eyes in the cavern. He couldn't make out the beings they belonged to, but he could guess. More of those strange skeletons watching them from afar. He set his jaw. He didn't like this at all.

Hey, who's up? By my reckoning, I think we need a post from Chrys and/or Mythic. Chime on in sil vous plait.

Ra'Qassar shook his head when Sandhya spoke. "No, the living may help us against the dead but we will have no assistance from the dead against the dragon. I bear no love for the Thalmor and they will die, but if we do not assist them now, it is more like than not that they, and all of us will die in here. I prefer to stay alive." Ra'Qassar said it mostly to his fellow Khajiit, and more to himself once Adrynn chimed in with the same sentiment. The two thought similarly in this regard. That was good. He brought up his bow and began aiming for walking skeletons, sending bodkins through their temples, eye sockets and joints. He remained relatively close. When Sienna dropped to a knee Ra'Qassar ran over to her. He knelt down before her and lifted her chin with his hand so that he could stare into her eyes. "Sienna, I have not known you long, but in this brief spell you have proven to me that you are dedicated, that you are noble and that you are relentless. You have not given up before, do not give up now. You must continue. This place feels like it is dragging you into the maw of Oblivion, you must not let it. The greatest trap of Labyrinthian is not the magicka it steals from you, it is the confidence in yourself. It makes you doubt yourself and that is how it destroys you. When you give up. Rise Knight of the Nine, rise and spit in this things face. Show it that you are Sienna, and you shall not die. Not here and not today." Ra'Qassar's eyes shown with a fire that he rarely had. He remembered the first time he had come here. Despite lacking a magical affinity, Labyrinthian had still sunk its claws in him and sapped at all his strength. Magicka was in all things, spells and each person's font of magicka were built upon self awareness, self strengthening and willpower. Ra'Qassar had magicka within him, along with all other living things, he just could not use it. But he still had felt the place grabbing at him. He felt it now, but he willed himself to continue and that seemed to forestall the wretched stones all the more. Confidence, awareness and determination would best these ancient ruins. Of that he was certain. ------------------------------------------------------- Galus was still hollering out commands to his slowly dwindling numbers. Three had fallen already. They were keeping the lesser undead at bay, fortunately, but the damned dragon was still slaughtering them. He sighed a slight sigh of relief when he saw some of the other group aiding them. But the writing was on the wall for his small little group. The strange group of adventurers-he had to assume- would probably make it, but not the Thalmor. Then he saw it. The opening. It had been blasted away, a whole in the wall too small for the dragon to follow, though he suspected that the thing wouldn't leave anyway. It was a test after all, and anyone who could best it, in any way, was free to leave it. He gambled. "To me! Follow me!" He bellowed, his voice carrying more than usual, he was a little surprised. He then ran with four more Thalmor past the dragon and through the undead horde. All of them casting fireballs and lightning bolts before and behind them to clear the way and forestall their pursuers. He stopped beside the whole and ushered his troops through while he readied a spell in his hands. What's the point? Why bother saving them? He cleared his head before he cast though, and just in time. The massive undead dragon turned to face him and opened its gaping maw, preparing to freeze him to death. He did not give it the chance. He loosed the most powerful firespell he had ever cast upon the thing. It caught the frost breath in the dragon's throat, or what stood for its throat. The beast shuddered and shook its head, its mouth blackened from the ethereal fire. It reared onto its hind legs and bellowed, ice spewing from its mouth to stop the burn before returning to the ground with a massive shockwave that sent the Thalmor who had not followed Galus to the ground and destroyed a few skeletons. The dragon shook its head furiously, its jaws still burning slightly and looked towards where Galus had been. He had not given it a chance to attack again. He hoped that was enough to tip the scales for the living back in the chamber. Barus's Hellmaw, Uncle probably never dreamed I would bother to learn any of his famous spells, much less use one, and even less, save my life with one, he thought. His uncle had devised a wide variety of spells, all with traditional elements found in spells of the day, but also more inventive things. Most coupled weaknesses with the elements, but a few were more fearsome. Barus's Hellmaw was a fireball of sorts, but it did not explode on impact, it continued pushing through its target, burning all the way, and using the energies found within the victim to fuel itself further. His uncle had once said that it had been inspired by a trip to Oblivion, how the place seemed to feed on you as you went and how pervasive the heat was in Mehrunes Dagons's part of the plane. How fitting that I should first use it in a place so much like Oblivion. Galus and his few remaining companions ran as fast as their legs would carry them through the dungeon. Here it was easier somehow. More draugr were destroyed than walking and there was evidence of battle. It was some time ago, but still recent. Only a fortnight or so at most. He hoped that whatever had carved the way was friendly if it was still alive and dead if it was hostile. The scant few draugr they found, they cut down with ease as they ran. But every now and then they saw skeletons standing, watching. Not in their way, but in galleries and balconies they could not reach easily. They sent a shiver up Galus's spine. Is it getting colder? -------------------------------------- Baltis felt the roar of battle in the dragon's chamber. Felt that fire as it battled against the beast and felt the pulsing of the Thalmor approaching his lair. He saw them too, through his servants. Before he had sent them back out he had bothered to establish mental links to all of them. A slightly time consuming process and more energy than he cared to spend, but still, a necessary precaution. It allowed him to see all in real time, rather than hours later. He pondered awhile. How best to great his "old friend?" He decided that he would choose the form he favored when they first met. Ash grey ooze seemed to bubble up from all of the nooks, crannies and holes in his corpse. Rising, boiling and writhing up as it slowly took form. An ashen grey plain appeared with wiry black grass all about it. Slowly his old body reappeared, at least, the appearance of it. The only things missing were his eyes. He never restored them anymore, it was a lot of work to make them functional and he thought it amusing to meet his "old friend" with a hint of the truth they both knew. He did not disguise his spell hand though. The hand he had lost at the shrine. It was not skeletal and rotting anymore, but it was not his skin. It was the same hard, tanned and callused hand that it had been when it still belonged to a northman. A bandit who had gotten more than he had bargained for with a "feeble old grey-skin," perhaps the man's nature would lessen Balti's noble acquaintance's "righteous fury." He chuckled. This time it was not internally, but actually made a sound, with all is illusary muscles and organs. His cold laughter echoed off the chamber walls slightly before dying. He stood and waited.

Ra'Qassar moved through the corridors with his bow at the ready, loosing arrows at passing draugr until the quarters became to tight to manage that well and he switched to sword and shield. The draugr were only a nuisance, as some of the others had observed, but that was exactly what was concerning. There were scores of dead draugr and a few dead Thalmor around the ruin. The Thalmor must have carved a bloody swath through the draugr someway or another. The worst of the foul undead were dead already which spoke of the experience and expertise of the Thalmor. Suddenly a massive roar shook the ruins and a shiver went up the Khajiit's spine, his fur rose as he recognized the horrible sound. "Be careful companions. Up ahead is a large chamber where we will likely find the Thalmor and one of the most fearsome creatures that lurk the plane. An undead dragon." Ra'Qassar moved with great trepidation down a flight of stares and found the doors destroyed at the base, staring at an immense cavern populated by about a dozen Thalmor, two score of skeletal warriors and a large skeletal dragon. ------------------------- The draugr had overrun the Thalmor encampment earlier and they had been forced to flee, shooting fireballs and other spells over their shoulders until they reached the great stone chamber. The dragon had just awoken when Galus turned and saw an interesting group of adventurers, one in bone mold, two khajiit, and several heavily armored warriors and battlemages. The Altmer barked orders and coordinated his forces to focus fire on the undead dragon while a few others took care of the skeletons. He set his jaw, this was going to be a very difficult fight. ----------------------- Baltis felt a great warmth, a blazing fire really, it shone like a beacon on the horizon. He felt the heat and he thought about the feeling more, he had felt it before, not just in Labyrinthian, but many times long ago. The warrior had surprised Baltis by his powerful use of magic, but Baltis was more powerful. This warrior was extremely powerful and he could sense the blessings of Azura flowing through him. The Redoran shouted, "I told you this was the day you died!" Baltis's lips curled into a cruel smile as a vicious strike with the Daedric Katana came towards him, "I already have!" As Llervu spoke the words his flesh melted away to reveal his partially decomposed body, less rotten then, but still decidedly dead. As he did so he brought his hand up, filled with a corrosion spell and then delved into the depths of his power and put all his might in it. The blade and hand came together in a crescendo of energy and a soft bloom of light erupted. When the light and mist faded the lich's left hand was gone and the fearsome katana lay in pieces on the floor of the shrine. Baltis's eyes widened in recognition. He turned rapidly and glided to the symbols on the floor of Labyrinthian, the metal was still there. He stooped to examine them. Daedric. And suddenly the lich knew.

I think that you are in the kitchen, being reached for by myself so that I can put you on my shoulder, living a brief pseudo-pirate fantasy and then possibly remove you from the castle.

Ra'Qassar trudge on through the snow, shoving it aside as he went with his shield. He had no magic of his own to help clear the way. He had tried to learn once, only to learn that he was completely mundane, he could not wield magic in any form or in any manner save for enchanting. Enchanting was different though. It was not grasping at the magic around you or within you, it was inside a gem and with powerful tools already accessible. It was a small burden that rarely bothered him, but just now, some magic would be helpful. ------------------------- All of a sudden Baltis felt it, a great rush of heat, fire and passion. A noble spirit to be sure. The presence was extremely familiar, one he had known a long time ago, he could not place it though, it had been too long, and he had not slept in centuries, one sees much, feels much and learns much in that time without slumbering. The warrior lunged at him. He was not in the mood for another affront today and his fury coursed through him. He did not let down his guise but instead unleashed his magicks. Sending fire and ice and lightning from his fingertips. They raged back and forth with the spells clanging off the chamber of the shrine. He summoned a bound sword to parry the warrior and alternated loosing destructive spells and raising defensive wards as the Redoran came at him. It was the most emotion he had felt since he had ventured into undeath, such anger and fury filled him. This mundane fool was daring to attack him.

The captain of the guard snapped to attention when the Queen entered, mildly embarrassed by her timing. "At once, Your Grace." He said. He reached for the Raven, meaning to put it on his shoulder for safe keeping until he got outside. Perhaps if it wouldn't make a mockery of the court, he could even let it stay inside somewhere. Why in the bloody hell would I do that? What has come over me? A raven has no place in court except to ferry messages. I should turn it out at once as Her Grace commanded. He shook his head slightly and then took the Lord High Executioner by the arm to try to lead him from the kitchens toward the great hall. "I'm most sorry to hear that m'lord. I'm sure the rhyming is a great chore, I have no gift for the art and would never be able to speak if that curse were laid upon me. Perhaps I could have some of the songwriters at court compile a list of common words and their rhymes for your easy reference? Would that suit you? At any rate, let us go to the great hall and leave the Chef to her work."

Ra'Qasar was about to tell them to stand down, but then it was too late. The battlemage loosed icy spears at two of the trolls and Sandhya was flying among them. He sighed slightly, so much for just conjure a fire he thought. The trolls shied away from flames well enough if done properly, but it was too late, there were only a couple left though, there was only room for maybe ten trolls around Labyrinthian. Not enough food and territory for more than that, even when they decided to be sociable. Ra'Qassar felled the last two with a couple of well placed shots from his bow that tore through their eyes. When the last troll lay still he called, "Let's keep moving and get inside, it's not any safer in there, but it's warmer." He made his way down the steep steps towards the great door and nearly fell when he tripped on something in the drift he was wading through. He looked down and cleared away the snow. "I believe we've found them." He hollered, holding up the mutilated body of a Thalmor by the collar. ------------------------------------- Galus was barking orders left and right, he only had 13 Thalmor left about half women, he had nothing against the women, yet he was agitated that discipline fell apart when you were in Labyrinthian, none thanks to the idea that they would all die soon. Four of his troops were a little sore from "enjoying their last night" and it was liable to have been there last night at this rate. The draugr were everywhere. He had his troops ring up around the mages and himself as they loosed fireballs at all the undead and cast different wards and defensive spells. The swordsmen and macemen were holding off the draugr as they came. He hoped it would be enough. Already there was a small bank of bodies around them of the nordic dead, but there was still a score of them left. He noticed another skeleton in the distance with pale blue eyes just staring at them. That disconcerted him. "Watch around the pillar! There, up on the gallery! Fire!" He barked and spelled and fought. Eventually it looked like they would make it through this gods forsaken chamber, he looked up in time to see the skeleton walk off. That was odd, it just walked away, didn't run, it didn't even have a weapon. What in Oblivion have we stumbled upon? he thought. When the chamber was clear they pressed on to a hallway and found a suitable sideroom that was far more defensible. They set up camp. He had lost two more, a man and a woman, both from arrows. He was getting worried. His plan was sound, but it didn't matter when he set it into motion if he couldn't get out. This was getting very dicey. He had to hope that they were getting close, or that those damned things wouldn't repopulate the areas they had already swept. The things seemed to breed like rabbits even if they were already dead. ----------------------------------- Baltis kept sensing the energies. Most were the faint blue metalic pings of the Thalmor, but then he felt something different. There was another high elf, farther away, but more powerful. Then there was something else different, closer... With the Thalmor. It was familiar, it stunk of salt spray, waving grass and musty stones, that was familiar to him, but there was also the crisp odor of the North, the frozen tundras, the snow fall and the great ice flows. This was an interesting presence, it was the power of tradition, but tradition educated in the North, a College student no doubt. A skeleton servant returned and as per usual, Baltis absorbed the insight from it. And then he knew. It was a bloody Faramel child. The paler skin rather than the more obvious gold of most Altmer and the sandy blonde to brown hair, it had to be Faramel, no other family's energy was like that, wreaking of Ayleids and the Gold Coast. What is he doing here? The Faramel's hate the Thalmor. Almost as much as they hate my kind.

The captain blinked his eyes a couple times and realized that the Lord of Lunacy was not in the kitchens, just someone who liked like him, but he still smelled his handy work in the disgusting soup spilled everywhere along with the toe of his long dead "friend" Pete. He turned to the window, "I will tell it to your monocle. Stay out of the kitchens. And I will gladly take you to the lists in my fancy tin suit, if your lordship would so choose. I do not have the patience for your shenanigans today." The captain regained his composure slightly and beckoned for more guards, posting one outside every entrance to the hot, steamy and smelly room. He couldn't decide if this smell was appetizing or not...

Two things. 1) Who's post is it anyway? and 2) I finally decided to go ahead and add my third character, this one has some more sidestories to go with this and I feel like a certain faction is a little under-represented right now :P Name: Galus Faramel Race: Altmer Gender: Male Age: 73 Appearance: Galus is tall, even for an Altmer, and has the usual high cheekbones and pointed ears indicative of his race. He has a slightly less golden skin tone than most Altmer, however, and he sports sandy blonde locks, rather than the usual very dark or very light hair of most high elves. He often wears an armored robe in the Thalmor black and gold, very similar to most Thalmor robes but armored with light elven metal in a few key areas such as around vital organs. His only jewelry is a necklace around his neck twisted with links of lead and gold with a meteoric iron pendant shaped like a varla stone, the sigil of house Faramel. Skills: Destruction, Alteration, Restoration, Alchemy, Enchanting, (Blade) Equipment: The mage's most prized possession is his father's shortsword, historically given to the third son of a Faramel patriarch when he came of age. Faramel's Razor is a shortsword much like a typical elven shortsword in terms of shape (see Oblivion's Elven shortsword), however, it has a gleeming silver hilt and the blade is of meteoric iron rather than moonstone or quicksilver, this makes the blade much stronger and lighter. The blade is said to have an incredibly powerful enchantment sung into the metal itself at the time of forging, but no one knows what this great enchantment is, how to awaken it or if it even exists as the blade has only ever appeared to be "normal." Galus wears his armor/robe, boots and gloves, all lightly armored. He carries a small variety of alchemical ingredients, scrolls and soulgems. Mostly common items that are easily found, but he does have a small collection of bloodgrass, spidal stick and other ingredients from the realm of Oblivion. He carries a Sigil Stone that once served to power an artificial sun in his home's garden, primarily as a sentimental piece. Homeland: Cyrodiil, the Gold Coast/Colovian Highlands region near the Hammerfell border Personality: Galus is a little shy and reserved at first, but is a bit of a smart-alec and a little pompous once he comes out of his shell some. Background: Galus was born to the venerable Faramel family of Cyrodiil. His father was the youngest brother to Barus Faramel, the famed sorcerer and Ayleid scholar. Barus devised numerous spells and wrote many treatises on Ayleid magic, architecture and enchanting methods. When Galus's father was killed by a powerful wizard when he was a teen, Barus took him in. The young Galus took his father's shortsword and a sigil stone that powered an artificial sun in the alchemical gardens before he left to his uncle Barus's home. Galus lived with his childless uncle in the south of Cyrodiil, near Anvil and the Elseweyr border on the family's ancestral island. Faramel manor offered Galus many opportunities, the gardens were larger, there was a portal to the realm of Oblivion that his uncle had constructed during the Oblivion crisis eons ago and stabilized, stables, good fishing in the river, a large collection of books on the various schools of magic and the many lands of Nirn and close proximity to courtly life in Anvil. Galus learned all he could about Destruction, Alchemy and Enchanting while there and also assisted his uncle in his Ayleid studies, getting to accompany him on many journeys to the ancient ruins. Time passed and Galus became a man, thus he went off to the College of Winterhold in Skyrim to learn magic better. It had been time for him to leave his uncle's protection. Galus learned a lot while there and expanded his horizons to Alteration and Restoration while there and also finding a passion for Dwemer ruins and technology. While Galus was at the College, a terrible event transpired that he still doesn't like to talk about (I'm also gonna be lazy and not type that yet...) he left the College feeling alone after most of his friends had died or left themselves. He spent his days exploring the ruins of Skyrim and Morrowind, old nordic and Dwemer alike, learning the ancient powers of the dwarves and the long forgotten nords. By that time, the Great War had come and gone. Galus and his uncle reunited briefly in Bruma by happenstance. Galus voiced that he was going to join the Thalmor to his uncle. Barus was furious and had to restrain himself to neither kill his nephew nor destroy the city they were in. Barus promptly disowned Galus and the disheartened man went off to the Thalmor. Galus learned to work in a team with the Thalmor, and he also found some natural charisma with officers. He managed to tactfully avoid any assignments involving torture or the hunting of Talos worshipers. In an odd twist of fate, his squeamish-ness, may have accelerated his promotion as he found himself on the frontlines or conducting research more than other soldiers would have. One thing lead to another and now, part way through the second great war, he is an officer in command of a small squadron of Thalmor, as well as an accomplished battlemage with some skill in using his father's old sword. Galus was at the most recent battle for Whiterun and had realize the battle was going south, so he decided to go North. When the retreat was sounded he and his men rushed North, where he figured that they would have the best chance of escaping, and he began tor realize that his opportunity was knocking. A few other men came with his, their own officers dead or missing. He lead the score of Thalmor North to Labyrinthian, and now they are making their way through the belly of the ancient beast. Their commander biding his time and waiting for the perfect opportunity to resurface and strike.

The Captain of the Guard had been wincing all day. Every clash, every clamor, every clang had caused a slight involuntary jump. He wasn't the castle steward, but he enjoyed the grounds and cared for them all the same. At each incident he summoned one of his guards and told them to look into it. One was off fetching the Janitor to help clean up some mess of a statue, another was after that stupid cat who had desecrated the throne, and another was supposed to be tailing the Lord of Lunacy to keep him in check, but Zephyr kept seeing the guardsman wandering aimlessly trying to find the Lord. When his Queen approached, the Captain of the Guard snapped to attention and saluted, "Right away, Your Grace. I'll see about the kitchens as well, there's been an awful racket, and I'd like to prevent any food poisoning this time." The captain of the guard went to ease when Auriana passed and boomed, "Rodrick! Pendrick!" two wispy thin knights appeared, each with long brown hair and comb-overs in the opposite direction and armor that was symmetrical when they stood next to each other. Damned twins he thought. They even had matching, pink, fluffy, bunny slippers, where they found those he would never know. "I want you two to search the castle for this over-large Raven and apprehend it, or coerce it or lure it with shiny objects-whatever, just get it out of the way of the festivities so it doesn't muck anything up. Is that clear soldiers!" "Sir Yes Sir!" They said in their disturbingly unison, tenor voices, and trooped off. The captain himself strode off for the kitchens and spotted the Royal Chef, the Lord of Lunacy and the Lord High Executioner with the Raven perched on his shoulder. Stars that's a big bird! Where to begin, the kitchen was a mess after the Lord of Lunacy had apparently tried to take a bath in a pot (he made a mental note to see to it that that never reached table), the chef was trying some of her... interestingly prepared sausages, the Executioner looked daze and the raven was... well... in the kitchen. "Lunacy, would you kindly remove yourself from the kitchen so our great Chef here can return to her work? Good Chef, please do take care that at least one of your courses is warm all the way through. You know what happened last time you served that hot-and-frozen foie gras. Lord Executioner, are you well and what is that bird on your shoulder?" He was a little taken aback by the sheer amount of chaos in one room, but then again he had witnessed a fair amount of insanity already in the throne room.

I believe the intention is to "liberate" them, Your Grace and steal them from your realm rather than do them harm. The fiend shall be stopped! At least within the castle... I don't have any power anywhere else. I don't politic enough for that...

The captain of the Royal Guard stood alert, watching by the side of the Royal Throne, a great ugly thing really. It was high backed, padded with orange cushion, the upholstery of the month. That was all well and good, but the wood was old, wiry and un-ornamented. He suspected that it was actually an old dining room chair brought up from the cellar until a new one could be fashioned. One that could detect poison and plots would be nice. The captain thought. His silver armor gleamed flawlessly in the shafts of sunlight that filtered through the stained glass windows, taking on the pallor of whatever pattern happened to grace him. Crimson scrollwork ran all about his armor and three great wolves danced upon his breastplate, the sigil of the guard. Over his shoulders flowed a cloth-of-silver cape fastened by ruby wolves. His pauldrons themselves were crimson with silver scrollwork to contrast with his cape and armor. It was a splendid raiment. He hated it. The beautiful design was mostly the Royal Fashion Designer's, embellished, adjusted, modified and created by the Royal Smith. It looked splendid and regal enough, and befit his high station, but why should the kingdom waste good steel, silver and time on making a new suit of armor just for him and just for ceremonies? His own steel raiment was expertly crafted, spell-smithed in fact, with incantations sung into the very plates, rings and links. It was lighter, fit him perfectly, and would turn blades better. He would sooner have a practical piece than a fashionable one. But he supposed that ceremony was an important facet of the court. At least his discomfort was nothing to his Queen's, he at least had the same kind of attire. As much as he disliked the unnecessary expenditure on his armor, it was still armor and it was good armor, Her Grace had to wear dresses when she preferred shirts and breeches and her sword by her side. He pitied her, and saw that her suffering was not in vain, and that she would not come to any harm in such uncomfortable clothing. Guards were posted outside the mainhall, within the mainhall and every room, hallway and garden that the Queen would visit on this highly planned day. The men were good men, loyal men, but they weren't very distinct. No one titled or even well known. They would, however, get the job done. The janitor was mucking things up a little though, he knew the man meant well and he certainly appreciated the fact that the floors were so polished he was able to spy a piece of bacon caught in his teeth from breakfast in his reflection. The floors were so slick, half his guards flopped on their faces, the rest on their bums and he himself and nearly done so as well, but grabbed a nearby statue to steady himself. After that he had ordered all of his men to remove their boots and don slippers that glided along the floors. If you ran the still might lose purchase but they facilitated a shuffling movement that was far faster and safer than walking. It was a comical sight, all these men in such serious silver and red armor shuffling around like little rabbits everywhere, but no one fell anymore. He saw his friend the constable enter and noticed him fall. The captain of the guard shuffled as quickly as he could to aid his friend and coworker, but before he reached the good lawman, he had risen... Only to grope a woman when he nearly fell, and then fall following a prompt slap. The captain's face reddened out of sympathy and he hurried to assist his comrade, a spare pair of slippers from behind the throne in hand. The Dark Edge had already reached the side of the throne room when the captain made it over to him, the place was awfully big after all. "Here, you might find these more suitable to getting around in this place today. Can't have the Queen's guard and the Queen's justice falling on their arses on her coronation day, now can we?" the captain smiled broadly.

Ra'Qasar's fur stood on end near this place. It was a wretched old city. Once the capital of the dragon cult, now it stood, the somber guardian of the pass, the past, and many secrets within. Sienna may have been right about a greater purpose drawing them there, it seemed that no one went to Labyrinthian truly of their own accord. Something higher was always pulling strings there it seemed. Though there were no obvious signs of Thalmor, there were subtler things. Wind whipped the snow into drifts in many places, causing banner-like sprays off of towers and walls. Any tracks left here would have vanished within a few hours' time. No trolls lay dead but there were a few scorch marks along a stone wall. "Don't be so sure that there are no signs, Ma'am. More like, they are hidden beneath this drifting snow. Look at the stones, where they are burnt, these are not old scars. No trolls lie dead, but a wall of fire is enough to scare many of them off." He addressed Sandyha's comment as well, "There are many frost trolls here, large and fearsome ones. But old ones, they are wise. A great enough show of force can usually deter them, especially of fire." Shortly following his little discussion, one of the aforementioned trolls approached. It was not a massive patriarch, but large nonetheless. It had likely not faced many dangers, he noted few scars on it. A pity, this one would not flee the party, nor would it provide Adrynn much of a challenge he surmised. "As you wish Ser, but it may be wise for everyone to assist in any of these encounters. Better to keep everyone fresh rather than one exhausted or dead and the others complacent." --------------------------------- Baltis's envoys had returned, well, most of them. A few had been destroyed. He did not bother to give much intelligence to what were originally meant to just be a spit in Dagon's eye. One by one, he placed his hand upon the skulls of his servants and divined what they had seen through the sight he had bestowed upon them. When he reached one from the entrance he scowled. The damned meddling Thalmor were here. They had not reached the great dragon yet, but they were foolhardy, casting spells all they could. Magic was all well and good, but self-sufficiency was also important. The blasted idiots couldn't even make a fire without magic it seemed. A fact reinforced by the incessant, erratic pings of magical reverberations coming from them. Labyrinthian may look like a dead city, but it was alive with energy and power. The stones themselves were filled with magic and each spell fed their hunger. Baltis made heavy use of his magic before he understood, and now he need not worry about the skeletal dragon which had risen again. He was far from its grasp, not that it could do much to him before. Ice and undeath are apparently a bad match against fire and undeath. While Llervu mused about what to do, he felt another faint magical presence. This was even smaller than when the Thalmor had first appeared, he marveled at how it had come to the forefront of his conscious. He came to realize however, that he knew this somehow. He had felt it before. This he knew well in fact, he had fought both with and against it... Baltis was infuriated, how dare this Daedric b&@*$ refuse him! She would not even give him the opportunity to earn what he sought. Why? Because he was an "affront" to nature, to the Dunmer and to all living things. Bah! How dare she! She was the one who cursed the Chimer and made them Dunmer, damned them for the foolhardy actions of only three of them, the one who was an affront to Dunmer herself. Hypocrite. She summoned her servants alright. The flying whores of twilight with their pale grey wings, nudity and grotesque features. They were nothing to his magic.They fell away easily. After they were dealt with, he was furious and blasted the door off its hinges. To calm himself he stood in the doorway and saw a small sailing vessel making directly for the shrine...

Your Grace, in the absence of a Royal Herald, I have taken it upon my self to create the blazon of the Royal Guard and accompanying motto. Ideally, a member of your fair kingdom shall arise who has a better hand for heraldry than I and will do myself and the Royal guard the kindness of remaking the blazon. I have chosen a escutcheon gules, marked by a chevron argent and three wolves rampant argent for our crest, taking your color of red and the pure color of silver. My own crest is much as described above, save for the charges which are badgers sable, however, with my new post I quarter my blazon in a less traditional method, using the chevron as the divisor and bear my badger beneath the wolves of my office as my house is subservient to my duty. Alas this confounded black magic known as the internet refuses to allow me to present Your Grace with my work. I shall strive to find a way shortly.

Ra'Qassar's reply was to drop his small pack. The others hadn't spoken up, but he figured Adrynn wasn't much one for complaining, and if he voiced a grievance, the others were surely thinking it. "Very well, we shall camp here for the night, and be off at dawn." The sun was just now kissing the horizon, they would have a good night's rest and be ready to face the dangers of Labyrinthian tomorrow. The Khajiit prioritized the group and set about collecting firewood, kindling and tinder for a fire. After some brief time of gathering from a nearby copse of pine trees, he laid the fire. It was in the log cabin style, his favorite. It was flexible, as large or as small as necessary and it allowed airflow, but could also shelter a tender young flame from the harsh plain winds if arrayed properly. Once the fire was burning merrily, Ra'Qassar set up his bedroll beneath the overhang not far from the fire. He then set to fixing a spit for preparing the evening meal. The night passed uneventfully, with the companions taking turns with the watches. They were a large enough group that bandits would have thought better, had they been seen, and the fire was bright enough to deter wildlife. The group packed up in the morning and set off North again to the Labyrinthian. They reached the ruin-filled pass just before midday.

Here Ye! Here Ye! Her newly anointed Ladyship, HIgh Queen Auriana requires loyal and able-bodied guardsman to protect her! As captain of the Royal Guard, I am seeking proficient swordsmen, lances, macemen, pikes, footmen, archers and any other men, woman and children who are hailed as excellent fighters and loyal citizens of Her realm. You may pin your applications here or send a raven to the Royal Rookery for myself and I shall review them. Those who I consider worthy of such a noble post shall be forwarded to Her Royal Highness for approval. Upon such approval you may don the title of Royal Guard. A badge of office shall be forthcoming whenever the Royal Herald is available. I thank ye citizens for your time and look forward to your petitions. Her Humble Servant, Lord Zephyr, Captain of the Royal Guard

Your Grace, I have noted that you do not yet have a royal guard. If it please Your Grace, I would gladly take up this position and recruit renowned swordsman, knights, lances and footmen to serve as your royal guard if you should deign me worthy. I shall send a Raven to your personal rookery with my full petition. Your Humble Servant, Zephyr

Ra'Qassar nodded at Adrynn's remark and set forth along the road to the North with the rest of the party in tow. It was not an overlong journey by any means and a party of their size would deter bandits and the like with ease. The lack of a carriage also helped to display the seriousness of the band. Few groups traveled by carriage if they were warriors in large parties, most rode horses or traveled on foot together. The group would not make Labyrinthian that day, but they could march through the night and reach it by dawn or midday if they opted to make camp and set out at first light. They made good time, especially after resting on the way to Whiterun. "We can either continue marching through the night, or make camp and set off again at first light. What would you prefer? If we make Labyrinthian by dawn, I would recommend that we camp just within it to cut off any Thalmor exit and rest there. If we wait until tomorrow to set out we should delve further once we reach the place, which should be roughly midday." The khajiit addressed the group as a whole, but directed his questioning a little more towards Sienna. The majority would rule, but he assumed that most would assent with whatever the two of them decided and he would default to her, she took more punishment during the battle than he on account of her being more of a frontline soldier. ---------------------------------- Llervu stooped slightly to pick up the metal, but before he reached for it, he felt something else. Something different. It was not the warm dark that he had felt occasionally before, nor the tantalizing odor of power, but a distant feeling. Like some acrid smoke on the wind or the tang of metal on the tongue, faint, peculiar, but distinct. Magic users, destructive, perhaps disciplined, but they were ragged and weary. There was no time for this nonsense with the markings. He directed his servants to fan out across the ruin and locate the source of this annoyance. He sent the majority towards the entrance as that is where he felt it from, but with its faintness he could not be completely sure.

Ra'Qassar's face remained emotionless throughout Adrynn and Faeryn's conversation, but internally he frowned and smiled alternately. When it was concluded, Ra'Qassar hailed the party, "Does anyone require resupply? If so, we should be quick, Warmaiden's is just inside the main gate for any blacksmithing needs, the general store is at the end of that same street, in the Plains District, along side the alchemy shop. We should get going as soon as possible I think. Who knows what the Thalmor have found by now." Ra'Qassar felt a little guilty for dragging Adrynn on this adventure, but he was puzzled by the Redoran's Azura remark, and he was honored by the commitment he placed on their mission. ------------------------------ Llervu moved on from the symbols, these were Dagon's old worshipers, he was one of the three Daedra he hated the most. He was after only Azura in his eyes for tricking him into helping that legion commander and his cohort of Blades. Meridia's pompous demeanor also won her no love from the lich, regardless of her distaste for him, but that still wasn't much on the other two. Baltis set to work illustrating to Dagon how much he disliked the Prince. He reanimated the bodies of the long dead worshipers and sent them soldiering through the maze to gather information about the draugr. They wouldn't be attacked, but they could be his eyes. He also had them begin dismantling the various altars and shrines constructed to Dagon. Hours past, then days, still nothing. Perhaps the ancient stronghold had been picked clean of any portable relic, but there was still knowledge within the halls. Baltis decided that, until circumstances changed, this would be his new home. Tel Olmes had survived the Red Year and the Argonian invasion only to slowly sink into the inland sea. It was just as well he supposed. It would be nigh impossible for anyone to find unless they had already been there his personal possessions were all enchanted to withstand whatever punishment the elements might give them and they were well hidden. Only a truly worthy individual could uncover his journals and musings. He had been a nomad for the better part of the fourth era, it was time to take up a residence again. Then he felt it. A great magical power. Some artifact. It called to him like a beating heart. He moved swiftly through the dungeon towards where it came from. Near the great rushing river within the old stone walls. Then as sudden as it had appeared, it disappeared. He was furious. An unfortunate, undead servant approached him and was rewarded with a blast of fire that disintegrated it to ash. Llervu returned to his study, the seat of Morokei, and was outraged to see the symbols fresh with blood. He had ordered it cleared days ago. When he was about to blast the chunk of stone into Oblivion itself, he paused. There was the daedra heart, but the oblivion symbol was no longer in blood, it was formed by several shards of metal. He cocked his head to the side and felt a chill that could be felt even in undeath.

The gates of Whiterun were a welcome sight for the Khajiit, but he knew that he could not stay. They had enough supplies to make the journey to Labyrinthian and the tools to gather more along the way, there was no time to stop and relax. When Adrynn looked at him and queried Faeryn, Ra'Qassar involuntarily held his breath. He had already figured that the Dunmer would not accompany himself and the rest of the party, but if they would, this mission would be far less difficult and treacherous. He had only got a sampling of what they could do, but with them and the battlemage, they could tear through the Thalmor, Labyrinthian and all. ---------------------------- Baltis searched the chamber he was in. There was a great throne, the place where Morokai had held court, a word wall and several old sculptures and statues. The crusted blood stains belonged to a group of conjurers, Daedra worshipers really. Their tattered robes were falling apart as the moths ate the linen and cotton. He examined a door, long eaten away by worms, that lead into a crypt area. This was wear the collapse had occurred. A few years ago, Baltis had heard about an avalanche near Labyrinthian. This was how the Daedra worshipers had entered the chamber, through an ancient shortcut for servants, unlocked by Arnand all those years ago. The avalanche had caved in the exit though, and it wasn't long after that that the draugr found the conjurers. Llervu knew that the conjurers were Daedra worshipers based on a little shrine they had created. It was riddled with daedric markings, all in blood, they formed a triangle surrounding a mark of oblivion, within that mark lay a daedra heart. Baltis sneared with the remaining flesh on his decrepit face. Dagon. He remembered the Daedra well. His damnable Mythic Dawn had been quite the pain for Baltis. Following that little event, and the battle at Azura's shrine with a Redoran warrior, all the Daedra had sought to destroy, subdue or otherwise hinder the lich. He repaid them in kind. Many years ago some blathering idiot learned that he was the descendant of a Mythic Dawn agent and decided to open a museum in Dawnstar. No one knows exactly what befell him, but the museum was burnt to the ground. Baltis himself had no clue what happened to the curator, he was disappointed that he couldn't have killed the bastard himself though; he did know, however, that the fire required no accelerants.

Ra'Qassar saw a ragged Dunmer woman fast approaching the party and began to draw his sword, she seemed battle worn and perhaps crazed. He relaxed though when she hailed the Altmer and the Altmer replied. He sheathed his sword which he had half drawn. As the woman approached it was clear that she was yet another imperial soldier, his fur bristled a little, but he was gradually losing that instinct. He nodded his head slightly in recognition but he kept moving, indicating that they needed to stay on the move. "Hail Dunmer, since you are clearly a friend to our battlemage friend, climb in back. You've clearly been through a lot. We're bound for Whiterun, but our mission is a little urgent, so it would be best if we kept going." Ra'Qassar's greeting was a little callus, but as he became more and more certain that all these new faces were here to help Adrynn and Faeryn rather than provide assistance to Whiterun, the mission became more and more paramount. They wouldn't have these numbers in Labyrinthian and there would be nothing to help tip the scales in their favor if they delayed so much that the Thalmor found some powerful artifact or completely recuperated.