Private The Pinnacle [18+]

[Blitzz]

Darro opened his eyes just as the first of the sun's rays pushed through into the gloom of his tent. It was still dark for the most part, and Darro couldn't hear anyone up and about. It was too early. He had not slept well; he rarely did. How could he? The world he knew was gone, overrun by demons so foul even Oblivion would spit them back out. Now he was condemned to Stros M'kai, and with each passing day the tensions between its residents and its refugees pushed ever closer to breaking point. He watched the dust floating about in the light beams for what seemed like hours before the first refugees began to shuffle from their tents. Within an instant Darro was up and out.

The sun was peaking over the top of the city, bathing the camp in golden light. The residents of the city very rarely associated themselves with the refugees. They hadn't seen what he had seen. He hadn't seen snakes the size of bears hack men clean in two. Tsaesci, he had heard one man scream. Right before one bit deep into his face.

The camp smelled overwhelmingly of sweat and waste. It had only been a month or so since the refugees arrived, and already they had ripped the north side of the island down. Most of the farms that already existed were pulled down and the owners moved into the city, while the land was used to plant more crops to feed the growing masses of people. There had even been talk of pulling the ruins in the deserts to the ground so that the materials could be used. Darro had, of course, objected.

He made his way to the center of the camp where people were already beginning to take seats near the campfire. Their faces lit up as he approached; they were all hungry, and he was the one they relied on to cook. Water was already boiling in the pot. The logs around the fire that people used as perches were becoming more and more crowded, so Darro decided it was about time.

He was only to make a simple meal today, or he wouldn't have food for tonight. He pulled two loaves of bread from a sack, and began to slice them up. Someone else took over, a woman named Helen, while Darro began dicing tomatoes and leeks and out them into the pot. Soon enough the water turned a vile yellowish colour and began to thicken as more and more was added to the pot. Crude wooden trays and bowls were handed out, and everyone got a bowl full of vegetable soup and a slice of bread.

Everyone sipped contently. Darro didn't eat. He had trouble eating these days. He never had an appetite. instead he slipped away from the camp towards the docks. He sat a some 50 metres away on the sand and let the cool water lap around his bare feet in the morning sun. He laid on his side hoping to get some extra sleep in before he was summoned to make everyone lunch, and as he did so, spotted something.

About 20 yards away, still on the sand, was an enormous white bird. Darro stood and plodded accross the wet sand, feeling it rise up between his toes. It was dead; the smell told him that before he even got near it. He reached a long, pale hand down and plucked it from the sand. A few flies had begun to settle on the carcass but they scattered as it was lifted. A note was tied to its ankle, in a small silver tube decorated with traces of ebony. Fascinated, Darro spun it in his hands, analyzing it, until a dark hand shot out and snatched it from him. Darro whirled and saw the man, hooded and moving away fast. Darro called out but he wouldn't slow.

It was a good five minutes before Darro ran the man down. He didn't recognize where he was anymore. He had never taken the time to explore Stros M'kai in its entirety. All he knew was that this man had stolen from him. "Hey!" He didn't acknowledge Darro. "Hey! You!" He finally managed to get the man to look at him. He was a Redguard, but the majority of his head was hidden in a hood. "I don't know who you are, but that tube right there? That's mine."

 

[Kaelbu]

The trek would be dangerous.

Janeska looked out over hills and woodlands absent of white, a persistent breeze wafting against her back. It was carrying the smell of smoke and blood, almost as if to confirm to her "yes, you have to leave". She glared at the border of Hammerfell in the distance, sick with hate over the reason for her journey. Her first steps out of Skyrim should have been a learning experience, taken slowly and by choice. Not a panicked escape from the smoldering chaos behind her.

Sure, there was a sadness under her scowl. The forge she worked and her creations were destroyed. Her father's body was entombed in the remnants of her childhood home. The province she loved was taken from its people. And all of that was sad.

More than sad, however, it was enraging. Janeska started down the snowy slope with a huff, leaving a white cloud of breath behind her. As her foot left the last bit of snow on her descent, her anger only grew. She caught herself imagining the feeling of Akaviri bones crunching beneath her axe; Tsaesci scales decorating its blade; their skulls busting under her boot. It was thoughts like those that kept her walking, at that point, toward lands foreign and dangers unknown.

She moved toward the only place she knew of that was safe: Khenarthi's Roost. If she had any hope of having a home in Skyrim again, she would first have to leave it.

Amongst the terrified whispers of survivors, just after the initial attack at Whiterun, she'd heard multiple people mention a boat, just off the southern coast of Hammerfell. It wouldn't be there long, and she had to keep a steady pace if she were to traverse the entire province and catch it in time. Janeska only hoped someone survived long enough to bring the boat to its location.

She finally reached the water, after one full day and night of non-stop travel, and many close encounters with battles still in progress through Hammerfell. Stealth was not her strong suit, but Janeska was able to pass undetected, her presence hidden by the mayhem.
To her relief, a small sail boat sat serenely off the coast, as if the carnage on the mainland wasn't even there. And from what she could tell, there were others on board. She didn't like relying on only herself; being with others, even strangers, was a comfort to her.

The voyage would take days, but she'd rather be at sea than enslaved or dead.
Janeska's eyes brightened with new possibilities as she hurried toward her only hope, and set sail for Khenarthi's Roost.


(Some weeks later)

Although it was untouched by the Akaviri, and-- as she learned upon arrival-- one of the only two safe havens left, Janeska found herself yearning to leave Khenarthi's Roost. She was grateful that the island's inhabitants seemed to welcome the refugees, but her heart ached to be home.

However, the thought occurred to her that it wouldn't be much of a home anymore. There would be no family, no friends, and an unhealthy amount of Akaviri overrunning the place. Janeska could only help remedy one of those things. She couldn't bring back the dead, but she could lessen the number of Akaviri trespassing in her homeland.

Images of their deaths flashed before her eyes, and an involuntary grin crept up on her face. Even a chuckle couldn't be suppressed as she pictured herself beating an Akaviri to death with the literal rubble from the towns they destroyed. Realizing how insane she must look, Janeska glanced around to see who might've spotted her, but it appeared no one had.

She sat alone on the docks where she first arrived, gazing out over the water she so badly wanted to cross. She'd spent much of her time there indoors, alone, pretending there would be snow outside, should she ever decide to venture so far. But today, she dangled her legs off the edge of the dock, and allowed herself to accept that she would never get back what once was.

If there was a good time to grieve, this would be it. But Janeska didn't want to grieve. She wanted to look forward. To pry herself from the rut she'd been stuck in for weeks. To progress.
But more than that, she wanted to avenge.
She only needed the means.

 

[Orien Terrik]

Jorunn watched from a nearby crowd, as two men made eye contact with each other, a few meters away from him. "I don't know who you are, but that tube right there? That's mine." One of the men said, pointing at what appeared to be a little black tube, sticking out of the other man's dark hand at the edges. Jorunn sighed. "Even with all that is going on, people still can't get along." He said, mumbling to himself as he pushed his way through the crowd. Finally exiting the crowd, he quietly approached the man with the tube from behind, who Jorunn assumed was a Redguard from his dark skin color. He stopped about half a meter behind the man. "Its not nice to steal." The man, who hadn't realized someone had snuck up behind him, whirled around, trying to catch Jorunn's face with his Elbow. Jorunn dodged the blow, and came back with a fist to the man's face. The Redguard fell onto his butt, shaking his head. Even though Jorunn hadn't struck with much force, it was still enough to make this man contemplate his previous Idea. Jorunn held out his hand. "Drop it on the ground, and get lost." He said simply. The Redguard nodded, and dropped the tube. Then he stood up, and turned, running away, past the man he had stolen from.

Jorunn motioned the tube's original owner forward, as he knelt down in front of it. It appeared to be made of ebony. He reached out to pick it up, intending to give it back to its owner, but upon contact with his hand, there was a bright flash. Jorunn yanked his hand back, as there was a small burn on it. Nothing serious, and the pain was starting to go away. Suddenly, the tube split open, revealing a small piece of parchment inside. Jorunn looked at the burn on his hand as he stood up. "It appears your tube was sealed with magic for some reason." He said, making eye contact with the owner of the tube. "There seems to be a parchment inside. I assume it is addressed to you, since this is YOUR tube?" He finished, awaiting a reply from the man.

 

[Khaotic3]

Amy's eyes were wide open by the time the sun began to peak over the hills. She had not slept all night, but it did not bother her; a good night's sleep was hard to come by most days. Instead, she had stared blankly at the sky above, and had reminisced in the memory of Skyrim's colorful night sky. The sky here in Stros M'kai was just black with the stars dotting it. It was still pretty, but it was not home.

Or perhaps the reason Amy had not slept was because of the temperature. It seemed so hot on the sandy island, especially compared to Skyrim's usual snowy, weather. Her thick armor had not helped the situation, and she had come to find that she was not particularly fond of sand. Amy rolled onto her side and felt the sand within her armor rub against her back. About ten meters ahead was the main campfire, where she noticed someone beginning to boil a pot of water. She hated having to sleep on the ground so close to yet another heat source, but she did not have a tent and it provided enough light for her to keep watch over herself.

The morning light brought hungry refugees to the center of camp, and Amy merely sat up in her spot. Eventually the logs that were used as makeshift benches would become overcrowded, and Amy gave a cold look to anyone who had the bright idea of sitting too close.

Everyone's attention was shifted when the head cook appeared to make them all their first meal. Amy had been very eager to drink in the scents of cooking soup; it temporarily masked the scents of body odor and waste, which usually overpowered the camp. Her mouth watered as the cooks milled about while others handed out plates and bowls.

Amy was a rather sloppy eater, and some other refugees who claimed to be "civil" would sometimes give her looks of disgust. Amy had learned to ignore them; food was much more important than, frankly, anything else. Well, except on bad days when she really wanted skooma.

Amy had only just realized she was shaking, and had nearly dropped her bowl. She placed it in front of her as carefully as she could, although if it had not been empty it would most likely have been spilled. Amy took a deep breath before deciding she wasn't hungry anymore. She cleaned up after herself before deciding to do a bit of exploring.

She headed toward the shore and noted that the sand. It was on the path to the shore. It was along the shore, and even appeared to be beneath the water. Meanwhile, there did not appear to be any good skipping stones. Man, this place is a dump. No wonder the natives are so bitter, Amy thought. She knew the real reason the people in the city did not like the refugees was because of how much space and resources they took up, but it was a funny thought. Giving up on finding a good stone, she decided to grab a rock about the size of her head and chuck it as far into the water as she could. It made a loud sploosh as it hit the water, and the splash was about a foot tall. She smiled, and repeated the process until she noticed the cook a little ways down the shore inspecting what appeared to be a large, dead white bird. Ew, I hope that's not what he's been feeding us.

But when Amy noticed him take a small tube off the bird, she was intrigued. Even more intriguing, no sooner had the cook taken the small tube than it was snatched from him by a hooded figure. He ran in her direction and shoved her out of the way, with the cook just behind him. Amy followed from a little ways behind. Amy stopped about twenty meters away from them when the cook finally confronted the thief, and a small crowd had begun to gather.

"I don't know who you are, but that tube right there? That's mine." Actually, I saw you just take it off a dead bird, but if you say so.

A large Nord man decided to join the confrontation for whatever reason, and opened with "Its not nice to steal." Amy inwardly snorted. Of course! Why didn't I think of that! Amy thought sarcastically. She turned to the person next to her. "Ten septims says the big man thinks he's holier-than-thou." The man next to her, a Redguard, shook his head and glared at her. She then noticed he was staring at her hair. "And so do you," she muttered.

When she turned her attention back to the confrontation, the thief was on his butt with the big man standing over him. "Drop it on the ground, and get lost," the Nord ordered. The Redguard complied before darting off in her direction. Before he could shove her out of the way once more, she side-stepped and tripped him. He fell hard on his face, but he wasted no time getting up and high-tailing it away once more.

Amy flinched when she noticed a bright white flash from somewhere, and turned around to see that the large Nord was holding his hand in pain and the tube had opened. There was a tiny roll of parchment inside. The Nord stood up, still studying his burn. "It appears your tube was sealed with magic for some reason." He said, making eye contact with the "owner" of the tube. "There seems to be a parchment inside. I assume it is addressed to you, since this is YOUR tube?" He finished, awaiting a reply from the man. Amy smiled slyly. This should be interesting.

 

[Blitzz]

People were crowding around the incident now. A lot of people. He recognized most, if not all, of the faces, with the exception of the Redguard man who had come to his aid. As quickly as Darro became lost in his thoughts, however, it turned to violence, and soon enough his helper had the capsule. A flash of bright light, and it was open. He slid out a rolled up letter. "It appears your tube was sealed with magic for some reason." He was staring straight at Darro now. "There seems to be a parchment inside. I assume it is addressed to you, since this is YOUR tube?"

Darro was uncomfortable with the number of people who had cast their gaze towards him. This was, undoubtedly, the most interesting thing anyone here had seen for weeks, and that was saying something; this kind of squabble would have been totally ignored by people before the world ended. "Well... I don't personally own it, but I found it. Finders-keepers, right?" He looked around hopefully, but the crowd were all staring at him. "If looks could kill, I'd be six feet under," he thought to himself. "Anyway, why does that matter? Whatever is in that capsule was clearly important, why don't you just read it?"

 

[Kimrisvik]

It had been weeks since the Akaviri had attacked Skyrim. Some of the once great cities were now overrun by the so-called ‘demons’, and a majority of the population was completely eliminated.


Joax was sitting in his chambers looking at some old notes he had written while he fiddled with a small stack of coins lying on his desk. He hadn’t had a contract in weeks and was now starting to get bored. Outside the door he could hear the others laughing and shouting. Most of them were assassins like him, or just simple thieves. Joax took a deep breath before he got up from the chair, grabbed his sword and dagger and left the room in a hurry.


As he passed by the small bar they had built in the hideout , Thorbjorn, the owner of the bar, walked towards him. “You leavin’?” He asked as he grabbed Joax’ arm. “You’re god damn right I am!” Joax answered and turned to look the bald Nord in the eyes. “And don’t expect me to return any time soon. I’m heading for Khenarthi’s Roost.” “What the hell are you going to Elsweyr for?” Thorbjorn lifted his eyebrow. “You scared?” Everyone in the bar laughed loudly. “No, I’m not afraid. But I haven’t had a contract for weeks. And it doesn’t look like there are any assassins needed at this big pile of plops. Khenarthi’s Roost is a refugee camp, plenty of people who hate each other enough to pay me to kill one another.” Joax dragged his arm loose from Thorbjorn’s grip and started to walk towards the exit.

_____________________

Joax stood at the deck as the boat slowly drifted in towards the docks of Khenarthi’s Roost. The whole town looked packed with refugees who had nowhere to live. “Bingo!” He thought to himself. As soon as the boat closed in to the dock, Joax jumped off and started to walk towards the city. Further up the dock he spotted a young woman sitting with her legs hanging over the water. Her hair was black and reached her to the shoulders, and on the left side of her face she had black war paint. He stopped next to her and looked down on her reflection in the water. “I’ve never really understood why people have war paint outside of war.” He said and smiled at her.

 

[Kaelbu]

"I've never really understood why people have war paint outside of war."

A man's voice startled Janeska out of her gory day-dream.
She tilted her head back to see a blonde-haired Nord smiling down at her. He was wearing handsome steel armor under a cloak; the likes of which she hadn't seen since her days working the forge. Most of the refugees around her wore crude armor if any at all. Looking at it made her resent the simple iron on her body a little bit.

"I guess it's just wishful thinking," she answered, returning a smile. It was at that moment she realized just how long it had been since she'd conversed with anyone, prompting her to clear her throat.
"I'd be at war with those monsters on the mainland if I thought I could survive it."

She'd given the reason she kept the paint long after the invasion. That, and the fact that she kept forgetting to take it off.
But the reason Janeska painted her face in the first place was more personal. Her father wore the same dark stripe when he had any reason to fight, originating with bounty-hunting in his youth. He wore it while defending their home, and even during their training sessions. She recreated his "battle face" upon his death in his memory. Her own quiet way of holding on a little longer.
But she imagined a stranger wouldn't care to hear all that.

Not wanting the prospect of company to slip from her grasp, she hopped to her feet and extended a hand forward.
"Janeska," she offered, dearly hoping in the back of her mind that this man felt like talking. He'd just come from somewhere. Maybe he wasn't staying for long... And maybe he'd take her with him wherever he was going.

(Edited for spelling.)

 

[Toxius]

Secluded, and the so called safe haven of Stros M'kai. One of the last refugee camps in Tamriel, possibly one of the last in Hammerfall.
This place isn't for everybody, putrid dry air surrounded the famous desert island and not to mention the undying heat that roamed long after the sun's fall. It was a never ending summer blaze, and you either put up with it, and learned how to survive or you could just become another rotting body, that added to the stench, or rather to the stench of safety, but, as you neared the city, the smell of your new safe haven was of fish, and bitter ale which many drowned themselves in. Even the skies were bleak, and starless. It was truly a time of sorrow.

As you would put it, only the most needy or perhaps foolish would come to this place, and not have passage into the city. It only added if you were one of those drunks, who can only try to forget their loses. Their homes, their family, their friends, their honour, and even their dignity was taken by the invaders. Nothing to live for, but hiding away, maybe waiting for something big, or maybe just to get away from it all.

Well, then. Why am I here, instead of being in Morrowind or Skyrim.
I have no family. My friends would forsake me and I have enough coin to buy a new home. A better and bigger home. What am I waiting for? So why am I walking around this camp, instead of in some inn, or even with the greedy lord that oversaw this island. Maybe because it was I felt like I didn't belong, or perhaps it was the long stares I received from the occupants and it didn't seem like the friendly kind. Slowly I watched as the refugees started their day, it was nearly the same each day. Maybe one had a bit of action in it, but there was never a kind deed to this day. I made my way to the back of the food storage tent, its supply was scarce and if they didn't receive more it would be the end of most of them. I untied the pouch which sat on my waist, and tossed it to the elderly sod who oversaw the tent and carried on my way.

I just turned the corner before a redguard crashed into me. He was fully clothed in black, hood to match and didn't even have time to apologise before continuing in his dash. He even got mud on my new cloak, that bastard will be sorry if I catch him but my interests turned to what he was running from. Two men, bickering over some capsule or so it rather seemed. A group of pesky tall idiots, formed around the pair. It was unfortunate for them, to say the least.
"Well... I don't personally own it, but I found it. Finders-keepers, right?" I overheard the one say over the murmurs from the crowd. "-why don't you just read it?" Was the only other thing I could make out, the rest was sort of lost with the crowd. Bloody hell this crowd was annoying, ruining the most interesting thing of the week...
"Why the hell don't you buggers get lost, before I take some bloody eyes out. Don't you sorry sods have anything else to do? At the fu$king least, shut the hell up!" I shouted over the rowdy crowd, too amazed to do anything. too amazed at the stupid dwarf of a man to even possibly listen. That was before one of them howled in pain, bolt stuck square in his foot. Lose a toe, fair lesson for silence, and a new found respect, with fear.

I stopped at the side of the pair. Grinning for their response, their, or every bodies eyes' on me and on the thing in his hand. More so, I wanted to know what it had written on it.

 

[Kimrisvik]

The woman seemed to have gotten spooked by his comment. She turned around and looked at him for a while. Her eyes seemed to be focusing at his armor. And as Joax looked around, he could see why. Most of the people there barely had any protection on them.

After a short pause, the woman spoke up. "It guess it's just wishful thinking,” She said, followed by: "I'd be at war with those monsters on the mainland if I thought I could survive it." Joax gave her a short smile before she hopped on her feet and extended her arm. "Janeska," She said. Joax took her hand and gave it a gentle kiss. “The name is Joax.” He said.

After a short pause Joax spoke again. “Skyrim isn’t as bad as you think it is.” He said. “I’ve been living there safely since those monsters, as you call them, attacked.” He gave her another smile before looking into the crowded streets of the city.
“So, Janeska, right?” He extended his arm to her. “Would you mind walking with me? I would love to have someone showing me around”

 

[Kaelbu]

The man took Janeska's hand, but to her surprise, he didn't shake it. He kissed it. Such a polite and gentlemanly gesture was a rarity, even before the invasion. She was so impressed, she couldn't keep her eyebrows from raising in amusement.

"The name is Joax," he told her. He paused for a short time, which Janeska appreciated. It gave her time to let the name sink in, so she might have a chance to remember it. She was bad with names.
"Skyrim isn't as bad as you think it is.” He continued. “I’ve been living there safely since those monsters, as you call them, attacked.”
What?! Janeska's mind shouted at her. Had she left too soon? Did she scurry off at the first sign of trouble? Could she have stayed in Skyrim after all?
At the time, it seemed like the world was on fire. It didn't feel like there was a soul staying in Skyrim that wasn't bound in chains and forced to. But now it sounded possible.
A little angry with herself for deserting so quickly, she kept her face from showing it.

"So, Janeska, right?” He gestured to her. “Would you mind walking with me? I would love to have someone showing me around."
She glanced back at the bumbling crowd in the city. All the noise and pestilence and strangers... Mostly refugees at that point, from all across Tamriel, and all walks of life.

"Of course," she sighed with a smile. "But there's not much to see."
She took a few steps forward before swiveling quickly on her heel to look back at Joax.
"Except the tavern," she grinned.
"Want a drink?"

 

[Orien Terrik]

Jorunn sighed as he saw a short man, with a solid build, put an arrow into the foot of a man in front of him. Looking down at the note, he read it silently to himself. A frown suddenly crossed his face, albeit only a small one. His right eyebrow arched upwards. "Interesting. Apparently, there is still a safe place in Skyrim. A place that hasn't been touched by the war. It says something of an ancient Argonian academy on an island in the waters west of the mainland. I haven't heard of this place before, and I have heard of most." He said. Jorunn rolled the paper back up, and put it in a pouch on his side. "I must take this back to my Headquarters here, my commander needs to see this." He pointed at the man who had originally been robbed. "And you are going to come with me, if you don't mind." He stated, even though it sounded like a question. If the man was smart, he most likely wouldn't refuse a Ranger. A person would have had to have lived under a rock their whole lives to not know about the Rangers. Making eye contact with the short man from earlier, Jorunn turned, and started walking, beckoning the man to follow him, but not waiting to see if he would. He turned, and started walking in the direction of a mountain that overlooked the village. Up on that mountain was the Ranger outpost where he was currently stationed. As he exited the village, he thought he heard another brawl breaking out behind him, and he sighed, again.

 

[Khaotic3]

The cook stammered a response before some tiny, stocky man behind Amy started shouting that everyone should get lost. He then proceeded to shoot someone in the foot, and Amy rolled her eyes. What gives you the right to keep all the action for yourself? Amy thought. As if that wasn't enough arrogance for you, he then strolled right up to the pair arguing over the tube. Whatever. Just read the effing scroll already.

"Interesting. Apparently, there is still a safe place in Skyrim. A place that hasn't been touched by the war." Amy was stunned. A safe place? In Skyrim? She would have called someone crazy to think that before the invasion. Now it was downright laughable. "It says something of an ancient Argonian academy on an island in the waters west of the mainland." Well that makes a bit more sense, I suppose. Minus Argonians. And the part where it's safe. Or exists. "I haven't heard of this place before, and I have heard of most." Well aren't you special.

The man rolled up the parchment and decided to keep it for himself. "I must take this back to my Headquarters here, my commander needs to see this." He pointed at the man who had originally been robbed. "And you are going to come with me, if you don't mind." This all seemed beyond loony to Amy. It sounded like something she and her old friends would have made up just to see the look on someone's face when they thought they had found something of value. Just an elaborate hoax.

Yet, Amy still couldn't shake the feeling they were on to something. And what if they were? That opened up the possibility of a way to destroy those creatures; a way to restore her homeland. It sounded like a lot more fun than sweating to death in this sandy wasteland. Plus, now the cook was probably leaving. No way in Oblivion she was going to starve to death, too.

But how could she approach them without getting turned away?

Her thoughts were interrupted by someone crashing into her for the second time that day. A brawl had broken out, and surprisingly, Amy wasn't really interested. She shoved the person who had bumped into her, but did not stay to see if he would retaliate. She strode up to the cook before he had a chance to catch up to the Ranger.

"I hope you don't mind me saying this, but do you really think that guy's serious? It sounds a little too good to be true, if you ask me. Seems weird of him to show up and save you just to take your stuff anyway."

Amy hadn't really had time to think about her words, so she wasn't sure what to expect as a response. She gazed earnestly into his light blue eyes, trying to read them.

 

[Blitzz]

The Ranger read the message aloud, and every word caused a new peak in Darro's excitement. A potential safe haven? No matter what, that was their best choice right now, without a shadow of a doubt. "And you are going to come with me, if you don't mind." Darro immediately snapped back to reality as he realized the ranger was addressing him. He didn't undertsand, but he wasn't stupid enough to defy a ranger, especially one who had already proven himself a threat. The man turned to walk, as the crowd got more tense, but as Darro stepped to follow suite, a woman stepped into his path. "I hope you don't mind me saying this, but do you really think that guy's serious? It sounds a little too good to be true, if you ask me. Seems weird of him to show up and save you just to take your stuff anyway."

"In all honesty, I don't know. I hope so. Either way, this is our best shot right? Either we wait to get slaughtered like animals here, or we risk getting slaughtered out there, with the chance of a true safe haven there as well. Seems like a pretty obvious choice to me. I'm following up on this, whether anyone decides to accompany me or not."

He stepped around her and began to follow in the ranger's footsteps, following the track up to the ranger station on the crest of the hill that overlooked the town and camp. He could hear a brawl breaking out behind him. "So... what's this about exactly?"