Zephyr2011

Baltis took the offered hand. His heart felt lighter after that. He had not expected the war veteran to be so quick to forgive him, but it had been 200 years. Kriak also always had an interesting affect on people. "I wish I could have saved her, I wish I could bring her back. That memory still plagues me. As you said though, nothing can undo what happened. To new beginnings Adrynn. Let us honor her memory with our present and future, perhaps then we shall cease to be broken men." For that was what they were. Adrynn's world had been shattered when everything was taken from him in the Oblivion Crisis and Baltis, well, if he hadn't been broken he would never have even met Adrynn. He had loved his apprentice, the son he had never had, nor would ever be able to have. The young man was his pride and joy, not the fastest learner but one of the most passionate people he had ever met. The lad was dedicated and always eager to learn and to please. They had worked together for several years when he vowed to return with a powerful artifact that would prove himself worthy of becoming a Telvanni Wizard. Baltis had warned him, tried to tell him to be careful, that there were better ways, safer ways. But the boy would not hear it. He had never liked the company of the rest of the Telvannni and refused to wait at their beck and call to earn his advancement. What he had not understood was the peril of searching for the Bittercup. Baltis had wanted to help him, but knew that if he interfered, the council would never accept him. He waited as long as he could, and as long as he dared before journeying to Dagon Fel and then to Ald Redaynia. He had found the body mere hours after his apprentice fell. He had still never confided in anyone about his grief. He had thought of telling Kriak, but had always had a sense that the hunter had larger troubles on his mind. ---------------------------------------- Galus examined the rest of the group, feeling a stranger amongst them. They didn't stare at him, but he felt like he could feel hatred rolling off of them. He did not regret anything. It was for the good of Tamriel, it always had been. But would these new companions ever understand? He had betrayed the Thalmor, and killed the men and woman who had defended him with their lives, how could they ever trust him. He sat on his heals staring into the fire. He vaguely became aware of a Khajiiti woman next to him, "What's your story Khajiit?" He asked, a weak and forced attempt at conversation he knew, but he had to start somewhere.

@Macman I see all of your posts, but as Velanya pointed out, it's hard to respond to them without much interaction with the rest of the cast. Party-wide questions usually help a bit, or pick a character of someone else's that interests you and strike up a conversation between them and one of your characters. It may feel slightly awkward at first, but you get used to it. You'll also figure out some ideas of how you want to develop your characters and relationships with others in the RP and that will make it easier. @Glitch & @Altmer: Welcome aboard mates! Glad to have ye.

After the chaos of what had just occurred dissipated, Galus steadied himself. When things were fairly wrapped up, he approached Kriak, "Thank you. If it weren't for you, I'd be dead." The huntsman smiled, a gesture that Galus couldn't fully appreciate without knowing the rarity of it. "Repay the favor." He nodded towards Adrynn and Ra'Qassar and gestured with his elbow towards Baltis, "Keep them alive, and the debt is paid." Galus nodded, a new fire in his eyes and followed the rest of the group to the surface, leaving the lingerers behind. --------------------------------- Baltis stared intently at Kriak. "I won't forget this Kriak. You stopped us from destroying one another, but you've taken the most precious thing in the world from me. I hope you had a good reason." His flash of anger dissipated though, "I will teach this Khajiit, as much as I can. The art is a little difficult without the... ahem. necessary components." He nodded to Kriak before casting a spell of feather upon himself and the Khajiit and hefted the cat-man over his shoulder as easily as a sack of flour. Which made sense, since Ra'Qassar became roughly the same weight. Baltis walked with Adrynn out of Labyrinthian. "I'm sorry about what happened Adrynn. Truly I am." He glanced sidelong at the Redoran, attempting to make eye contact. Even though it had been nearly 200 years since it happened, and even longer since he had died, the lich still felt guilty.

Kriak was glad that Adrynn had known what to do with the phylactery. Well, he has passed the first test. He was also pleasantly surprised that Azura had had a hand in all of this, else she would never have consented to her champion pushing the phylactery into her brand, especially not Llervu's phylactery. "You already know the answer to that Adrynn. It is a feeble hope you cling to. Perhaps one day we will travel together again, but this is not that day, nor is that day soon in coming. I must find the second artifact and return to my realm." He said it with a heavy heart, he wished he could help them, but they could not grasp the enormity of his own tasks, nor did he belong meddling in their realm's affairs. ----------------------------------- Baltis spoke, "How did you find it? Tel Olmes is-" "At the bottom of the inland sea, in a tangled mess along with the rest of the rubble of Vvardenfell. I went there after the Red Year and the Invasion. You will be pleased to know that your tower still grows, even beneath the sea." "How could you know where to go though? None of you knew where my home was." "I did not need to find your home, I needed to find your soul. And that has always been easier for me." A slight smile played upon the huntsman's lips as he spoke. "Now I must leave you. You have many miles to go before the Karthspire, and I have taken enough of everyone's time." "Kriak. Wait. Is he?" Baltis gestured towards Ra'Qassar with his head. "Yes."

Ra'Qassar's blade ceased blazing, the mysterious man released it, and Ra'Qassar grasped just how much he was bleeding and how exhausted he was. His eyes flickered a bit, and then darkness consumed him. --------------------- Galus's heart was still pounding from the attack and the stranger's sudden appearance. He sighed heavily from relief and felt completely drained and exhausted. He sank slightly and had minor tremors. He stared blankly as he watched the Khajiit pass out and the stranger called Kriak catch him. ------------------ Baltis approached warily. He knew Adrynn might attack him, but he didn't care. The huntsman had been the only member of that group so long ago who had hadn't despised him and hated him. He said nothing, but he regained his composure. Suddenly he became dimly aware of a massive font of power. It was enigmatic, but also familiar. It felt like a rumbling cloud in the distance with static bursts of mystery and ambition. the sockets where his eyes would have been widened immensely. No! Not only is he here, but he has it?! How?! -------------------- When Ra'Qassar collapsed, Kriak caught him and gently lowered him to the ground before casting a light healing spell to stop the bleeding. That would be enough. He then turned to Adrynn. "You saw what you thought you would see. You, of all people, should know that not everything with me is what it seems." He sighed. "200 years? That's how long it's been here? I returned to my realm and have been there for the last thirty years. Time passes differently in my realm than in this one. I have been fighting a war Adrynn. And that's why I am here now. I need to recover a pair of artifacts for my brethren to restore peace to my realm." He paused for a long time. "And I need to return another." He produced a small hour glass with crimson sands and what must have been gleaming silver construction ages ago. It seemed to hum with some ancient power. He pressed it into Adrynn's hand. "If he should need stopped, you can do it. But it will cost you your life. Both of you shall be stronger for its presence, but both of you are in danger for it."

Ra'Qassar was a little startled by the events that transpired, but he suddenly acted on instinct. He felt like his blood was on fire for some reason. He loosed his shaft towards the lich before switching to his sword faster than he had ever thought possible. He was a total blur. He charged the Thalmor with his blade held high. Dimly aware that his sword was a blazing inferno. --------------------- Baltis's smirk faded when the Faramel child killed his companions, and disappeared completely when Adrynn stepped forth. Something inside him had still clung to some feeble hope that they might be able to reconcile their differences. Even though the lich had no love for the Redoran, he also had no quarrel with him, and he didn't hate Azura enough to kill Adrynn merely out of spite for the Daedric prince. He sighed slightly and prepared himself. The Khajiit surprised him. The arrow sang as it whirled toward him. It was fortunate that he had left up his own cloak spell. And a fierce bolt of fire engulfed the arrow, disintegrating it mid-flight. The spell was one of Baltis's own designs. Instead of a constant field of elemental energy, it was a network of awareness that was linked to a well of energy. As soon as something entered the radius, the chosen element rushed forth to do battle with it. It was more efficient than most cloak spells and far more subtle. Then the Khajiit was on the Thalmor. Baltis's eyes widened when he saw the flaming sword, but that was not the shocking part. The Khajiit's arm was drenched in blood and it was dripping from the cat-man's hands. Could it be? ---------------------------- Galus barely had time to react. The arrow flew past his head towards the lich, he only just whirled in time to see the Khajiit charging him. He felt warm for some reason, but it also felt like the light had vanished from the world, despite the fire. It was not oppressive. It was like a young child being swaddled, loosing sight of the world, but also being comforted, safe, secure. Galus prepared his best ward spell but suddenly the blade stopped mid swing. Before he could even cast a spell. ---------------------------- Ra'Qassar blinked. He slowly became aware that his arm was bleeding and his sword was still engulfed in fire. Save for a part about one third of the way up the blade. The red flames seemed to have turned to stone. That stone was clenched in a heavy, dark fist. That fist was attached to one of the tallest men Ra'Qassar had ever seen. His armor was almost completely black, but hide fine white etchings and scroll work here and there amidst fearsome spines, grooves and plates. The man was over six foot tall, muscular but not overly so. He had the lean look of a hunter, but his eyes spoke of a wary soul, like an old warrior who had seen too many battles. Those eyes were the deep crimson of blood fresh from a wound. They were set in a well tanned, slightly craggy face that was framed by shoulder length, jet black hair. Somehow this man, this being had caught his flaming sword and did not feel heat nor steel from it. ----------------------------- Baltis balked. He was at a loss for words for the first time in nearly his entire life. It wasn't possible. This couldn't be. He was dead. And if he wasn't dead he was back in his own realm. This was not possible. ----------------------------- "Put down your sword Adrynn." Kriak the Huntsman said.

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.