Open Fading Hope

[fellowknight]

"It's alright, Baroth. From what I've seen, I'm certain he won't be hit." Baroth nodded and let go of his hilt. He really meant to bring no harm to the man, unless he lunged at Marius of course. Besides that, he had utter faith in the man's skill and knew he would be fine without the spell. He twitched his finger slightly, and the green armor faded from the man, who almost sighed in relief. "Got to trust in something eh? It's why I don't use enchanted things. It's principle." Baroth himself wasn't to fond of conjuration magic. It was so annoying when someone conjures a sword in the middle of battle. It just seemed so....weak, to him.

Marius turned to the Argonian, and with a nod of his head, and a quick, subtle glance to the mercenary asked H'sikar silently to protect the man. "Now then, time is of the essence. Deal with the archers, please." He turned to Simus. "Commander, make a mess." At last he turned to Baroth, and said with a fierce smile, "Come on Baroth, let's show Dagon what we sons of Skyrim do to those..." He trailed off, and put his armored hood back on. "...that try and squash us." Baroth gave a small chuckle but it was immediately halted by an arrow that grazed his shoulder. He ducked and rolled down the volcanic slope, Marius following close behind. He trudged over the distinct red grass he identified as Bloodgrass .

Then they came upon a jagged wall of stones that led up to the top of the ridge. He nodded to Marius and began climbing. Behind him, he heard the sound of the arrows as they zipped towards them. He kept his left hand on a rock and raised his shield with the other. I hope Marek and H'sikar reach those archers soon. He thought, as the volley ceased and he strapped his shield on his back. He climbed as fast as he could, he only had a few seconds before they fired again. He had barely reached the top, along with Marius, when the second volley was fired.

He stepped in front of Marius, unstrapping and raising his shield, taking an arrow to the right shoulder and one to the left mid thigh. "Arrrghhh! Move!!" He yelled to Marius, pushing him to the formation they needed to reach. He panted, leaning against the rock, as he quickly pulled out the arrows. "Ahh! Agghh!" He yelled in agony, as he brought up his right hand, a white-yellowish ball of light in the center. He healed the shoulder while his left hand healed the thigh wound. When they were both mostly healed, he slowly stood and faced Marius. "Let's.......go to work! We have no time to lose! Aim for the Main front, we don't want this rock falling back on US now do we?" He said, as he unsheathed his sword and began cutting away at the base of the formation of volcanic rock.

 

[Andre Marek]

Marek nearly sighed as the ghostly green armor faded away, leaving his own armors dark charcoal color in its place. He was glad Marius hadn't resisted his request for he was certain things would have turned violent otherwise. While he wasn't especially attached to any of these men he still saw the value of having more friends than enemies at a time like this. Now that he was without the magical aura he was able to think much more clearly. Marius winked knowingly at him, as though he knew exactly why Marek didn't want his assistance. The glance that the Dawnguard warrior gave the Argonian didn't escape his notice either. A quick look that said, 'Keep an eye on him...' Marek scowled in response to their unspoken communication. The last thing he needed was a damned guardian.

Without another look at the group Marek turned and started towards the ridge that the archers were gathering on. He didn't even wait for the Argonian to catch up. He arrived near the base of the rock formation just as he heard the archers release the first flight of arrows from their bows with a rather musical twang. The ridge was quite steep but it had plenty of hand holds that he could grab onto. He could have taken the easy way around the back and up the path to flank them but he figured that climbing was even more unorthodox and would catch the demons even more off guard. Marek looked over his shoulder when he was about halfway up and spotted Baroth throwing his shield up and taking a few of the arrows that were raining down on him.

Despite the mans strength and prowess on the field, Marek knew it wouldn't be long before the deadly shafts would begin to take their toll on Baroth as well as the others. Him and the Argonian had to kill off those archers... and soon too. Reaching up over his head, Marek began climbing again until he was less than a few feet from the top of the ridge. The Daedra were too busy with the others to notice his ascent. He climbed the last few feet, until he had a firm grasp on the top of the ridge, where he then propelled himself up with one hand outstretched. Grabbing one of the demons by the belt, he threw the startled and screaming creature down the way he'd come. Pulling himself up onto the top of the ridge, Marek pulled his sword out and prepared to face the score of Daedra who were turning to deal with him. He didn't take his eyes off of the creatures but he hoped that the Argonian wasn't far off and that he would act on his distraction.

 

[Simus]

Simus watched as Baroth and Marius sprinted up the right side of the valley towards the unstable rock formation. They were pelted with arrows once they got there but were otherwise unharmed. It was good to see Baroth was as tough and strong as ever. Simus had led a group that killed Ulfric Stormcloak just prior to the Invasion and Baroth was one of his best front line soldiers. That man could soak up an enormous amount of punishment and still have strengh enough to win any fight. As for Marius Dustman, Simus had never met him personally but his friend Soldin had told him of his deeds in the Dawnguard and his formation of the Silver Blades. Simus was glad to see another group of monster hunters in the world, especially one that was led by a hand as wise and tempered as Marius'. He and his warriors had certainly put those silver swords to better use than the Silver Hand or the Vigil of Stendarr ever did. Simus had taken part in the extermination of the former group and openly criticized the latter group, both of which he saw as puritanical fanatics who judged and usually ended up executing anyone not part of their groups.

Marek and H'Sikar were making their way up the ridge on the left side of the valley to take out the archers, so that just left him to hold the line. Without hesitation he activated his jump pack, willing it to go as high as possible. He rose fifty feet in the air on an orange pillar of flame, then fell towards a tight group of clannfears who were looking up at him. The creaturs were expecting to charge and leap toward the human and then tear him apart, satisfying their ever-present hunger on his flesh afterwards. Now he was high in the air and falling like a meteor towards them. Completely unsure of what to do, the seven beasts stood ready to swarm the man when he landed. Simus crashed down on the tight formation, crushing the middle creature under his weight and slamming the ground with his hammer at the moment of impact. The combined force of his landing and the hammer strike caused a spectacular explosion that blew the remaining clannfears several feet in the air. Their leathery hides, while tough, couldn't hande the combined kinetic force of the explosion and its bone-crushing shockwaves. They fell to the ground, dead and bloodied.

Simus stood ready for the next wave of Daedra when the dremora commander, a powerful looking warrior with a mace and shield stepped forward, laughing.

"Very impressive mortal!" The creature yelled in its strange demonic voice. "It has been centures since I've seen such a sepctacular entrance! I look foward to wearing your armor as well, once I've drank a toast to Lord Dagon from your skull! The clannfear is the weakest of my forces. Let's see how you do against something stronger. Scamps attack! Burn this mortal to a pile of ash!"

Five brown goblin like creatures, about five feet tall and with wicked looking tails and claws, charged forward and formed a firing line. They immediately starting flinging fireballs with both hands. Simus, recognizing the challange put forth to him by the prideful daedra and wishing to conserve his strength, sheathed his hammer between his armor and jump pack. He was able to dodge many of the firebolts and those that made contact did little to sunder his armor, leaving only small scorch marks. Once the volly ended he brought his hands together and charged a chain lightning spell. It hit one of the scamps square in the chest and knocked it onto its butt, then jumped to the other four. The spell should have desentigrated the creature but the deep purple color it flashed when it got hit revealed its anti-magic shield. It was on the ground, too dazed to fight, but its four fellows were enraged and screeched with pain. They ran forward, brandishing their claws and pointing their barbed tails forward like spears.

"COME ON DAEDRA!" Simus shouted before charging forward with heavy, stomping footsteps to meet them in battle.

 

[Baneloth]

Donath looked around the battlefield, bleeding and battered though he was, he was still ready to fight. The only problem was, the fight seemed to have moved to the inside of the Oblivion gate. That was bad. He was no coward, but he wasn't a fool, either. It looked like the companions, with some Whiteout guards, were defending the gate. That meant one of two things. One:all the guards and wolves were traitors. Unlikely.Two:General Sillyclown or whatever his name was had gone in there. "I'm going to regret this" he groaned, shoving a guard aside.

Clutching his ax for support, as much as to appear fierce, be leaped into hell. Literally. He wasted no time taking in the scenery, as he saw that Sillyclown was about to be swarmed by Daedra. Roaring a battle cry be intercepted the first creature, cutting it nearly in half. "Come on, ye dog faced sons of sows!" He snarled, swinging his ax at another.

(OOC:no colour, I'm on my phone)

 

[Odahviing]

The crunch of his boots against the stone added to the chorus of the marching of the other vigilants. They had been traveling for quite some time and were suffering from hunger and exhaustion, yet they forced themselves to ignore the weariness that flowed though their bones. The sound of Venex's voice traveled from the back of the group "Tyranus, the other vigilants need a break. We must rest." He hated the thought of stopping, but Tyranus knew that the men needed it if they were to continue on.

"Fine." he barked, "15 minutes, then we head out."

 

[Dustman]

Wrong thread, we have an OOC thread. Please post there, and delete this one.

 

[Zander Feredon]

H'sikar sprinted after Marek. Noticing how Marek had decided to climb the damn formation instead of flanking he smiled. Running as quickly as he could he leaped onto a jagged rock and propelled himself upward. He used what would have been handholds as stepping stones,propelling himself ever higher. As he reached the top he gave an extra burst of strength and leaped over the line of archers and landed directly behind them. ''Need to cause a distraction so he can get up safely.'' He thought to himself. ''Hey there,wanna play a game?'' He asked the archers.

As they turned to face him,bows drawn, He began to charge his Ke'Serak. All across his palms danced and eerie blue light accompanied by a faint hum. ''I'll take that as a no.'' He said smiling. Propelling himself into the air with his tail he let loose a blast of electricity directly at the spot he had been standing in. He didn't want it to land to close to the ridge and knock Marek off his course. The blast of electricity propelled him ever farther into the air and he cut sort of a back-flip,His head now where his feet should be and vice versa. As he descended he had a brilliant idea. He directed the flow of electricity from his hands into his index finger. As he pointed at each Archer a short but powerful blast of electricity left his fingers and made contact on his enemies.

One unlucky archer took a blast to the face,instantly melting his eyes in their sockets. As his decent sped up he finished out his flip and landed directly in the center of three very unlucky archers. He grabbed one by his Iron helmet and sent a charge through it instantly killing him. As he rounded,Using his tail,he swept another off his feet. Noticing how a group of roughly 6 had broken off to go back to the cliff-side and rain down hell he tried to speed up and finish the final 2 men. He rounded on the one he downed and drove an elbow directly into his nose,shattering it and leaving the thing screaming in agony. As he turned to face the other he felt a rather sharp pain in his left shoulder. Looking down he noticed an arrow protruding several inches through his shoulder blade.

''Damn,you got me.'' He said smiling. He ran toward the man,left arm flapping behind him,utterly useless for now and drove his right palm directly into his chin. The archers neck popped as his entire head jerked upward, Seeing the opportunity he went to one of his more primal defenses and lunged at the mans throat with his sharp Argonian teeth,severing his larynx and jugular all in one bite. He turned his attention to the cliff-side just in time to see Marek dealing with his group.

 

[Dabiene Caristiana]

Dabiene took a deep breath and let all the anger subside. She shouldn't have gotten upset. But recently the Head Woman of the place was really getting on everyone's nerves. Even Tolfdir was getting the round about of her unnecessary anger issues. No one else needed Dabiene's additional anger added to the mix. Especially Cilla... After what happened.

Sighing she turned around. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let my anger get the best of me. I remember Cilla... I'll do my best to keep those events in mind." She knelt down and had a small regretful smile on her face. One that asked for forgiveness. Like a mother would a child for getting carried away in an arguement. Exactly like she did.

"Can you forgive me?"

Cilla nodded and gave a small smile and the two hugged. Dabiene forgot that Soldin was still there and as such she was slightly startled when he put a large hand on her shoulder. "You should go. I doubt Mirabelle was kidding when she asked you go come. Oh..." He remembered something that he had in his pouch in his temporary room. "Hold on a second."

As Soldin half walked and half jogged back to his room in a hurry Dabiene meanwhile hugged Alice and assured them what they were fearing. "No. Soldin won't be expelled. Partially because he isn't a member and partially because he can't be banished. I have a feeling that what he is getting--"

"A missive. Yes." Soldin had returned and handed a dirty and worn parchment to the woman he called friend.

"What exactly is it?"

"It's a pardon. Y'know, I understand Isran is known for being a huge brute and harsh commander but he has to be. Also what comes with the job is thinking on your toes in diplomatic issues. Especially regarding military operations. Definately in times of International Distress. And I think we all know this... Apocolypse is totally called for that."

Dabiene eyed him carefully before looking down at the folded paper. Taking a deep breath she opened it, hoping to find something worth everyone's knowledge besides his Military Pardon and Permission.

Dabiene,

----------------------------------------------------------

(yes I know another flash back, bare with me though. Because this might be a game changer for everyone. If you agree, yippy! If not, I'm sure I can edit it. Because I'm that nice and flexable. Besides, not my roleplay. )

Isran watched in the shadows, leaning against the wall that was next to the doorway of Soldin's quarter's. From his vantage point he could see Soldin packing and making sure he had everything for the road. For every possible outcome on his journey. Although the kid wasn't very bright at times, he could be very intelligent when it came to wit and survival. He always thought of the what-if's. Like Isran did. Except even the Redguard had to admit that Soldin didn't worry like he did to the point of pulling a muscle. Or going mental.

Isran had given permission for Soldin to go to Winterhold, or somewhere where Dabiene could be found. He had heard of the woman and her family a long time ago. But really... That was a long time ago. From what he heard from Soldin she was magically trained in Restoration, Conjuration, and a Master of Destruction. Sadly though, she couldn't defend herself if she was given any metal weapon or bow. Even a crossbow. She could wear the Heaviest of armor due to her werewolf endurance and strength. Isran had asked if she was like him. Soldin knew what he meant by that and he only nodded, waiting for one rejection, one reason for him not to go.

But the Dawnguard Leader gave the go ahead. What really surprised him was when the Nord launched himself and hugged him to death. He could understand. Over the years working with the Lad he had come to accept that some creatures, just like men and mer, could be trusted or not trusted. They were not an acception.

In these times though, his guard was still up now more than ever. Although for Soldin's sake, any friend of the boys was a friend of his. He cracked a small smile at the thought of the boy's, no young man's ambition.

The smile faded though when he turned around when he felt a tap on his shoulder. A new Dawnguard member who was on messenger and scouting duty looked at him in the eyes. He knew then what that meant.

And so, he had one desperate letter to write to one werewolf Breton.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Dabiene stared at the parchment. She couldn't believe it.

Dabiene,

It's come to this I'm afraid. Yes, I know who you are. What you are. And as for my reputation for being a harsh leader I'm sure Soldin has called me, I've accepted you. Between you and I we both know he isn't the sharpest tool in the shed. But he goes with his gut. And that's what a true soldier... A true warrior does.

As for this letter, make sure this is also noted as a pardon. I have no doubt people up in Winterhold have gone paranoid and having an outsider might stir the up. He has Military Permission, along with the allowance of checking all forces. Tell the Arch-Mage that he damn well knows what he's doing. No matter his conditions or race and party.

This last part I regret to write. I'd prefer if Soldin not read this. As it has come to be I'm more like a father to him these past few years. Especially now. And he's become like a son. But, at the same time perhaps he should read it. It'll make him a better man all for it.

Dabiene shook her head. Even in a letter the Redguard could have the nerve to mention a boy become a man through a few choice words in a letter. And he had a feeling this wasn't a good letter. Not at all.

It'll make him a better man all for it. A few scouts reported multiple combined attacks. One scout received 'air' on word of hits on Whiterun. Massive attack although they appear to be holding out. But only time will tell. These attacks are organized, and yet at the same time they are scattered. And luckily they lose morale most of the time. But they won't give up and that poses a challenge. Sadly, one scout returned with news I fear. What I have dreaded for the past few months. One of those organized attacks fom those heathens has set course to Fort Dawnguard. We have a tunnel that does limit to the access of the area. Towers have been constructed near the inner entrance and they are easy to pick off with traps in the tunnel entrance. Every once in a while we have a few wounded. Florentius Baenius has done good work on them. But we still lose good men from time to time. But so far these attacks have been small.

I fear this may be the last letter I write. Tell Soldin not to worry, because I think he knows the obvious thing about me. I'm stubborn, and I won't go down without one of those bloodsucking scums body on the end of my blade.

Take care. And by the Divines, keep your friends at a distance Dabiene, and keep your enemies close. Because you never know when the two switch roles. Always be vigilant.


Trusted Friend,

Isran

Dabiene looked at the letter stunned. Soldin, who was looking over her shoulder a minute ago now sat heavily in a nearby chair, paralyzed.

"I should go back... I should go back, I should--"

"You are not going anywhere, especially to get yourself killed!"

He winced at the last part and Dabiene knew that was a wrong choice of words. Especially since his father figure himself could very well be dead.

"Forgive me, Soldin. But really, if you have lost all faith in Isran's well being then you might as well never had faith in him at all!"

Soldin still sat quietly. Listening to her. A moment past before he replied in a quiet defeated voice.

"You know what I said to Isran?" His head lifted up to look at her face. "You know what I said? ... I... I can't remember. I can't remember if I said goodbye or not. And if I did... He wouldn't have said it back."

He paused then continued. "Y'know. That's the thing with goodbye's. Y'never know when you're gonna get another one."* He stared at the floor again and went silent.

Another moment past before the Breton spoke up. "Soldin, I think he knew what was going to happen. And I know he wouldn't want you to go back. But I know he's alive. I'm sure everyone does. He's a strong fighter, Soldin. And if you doubt him one second I'm sure he would be yelling at you for an hour if he could!" She threw that last jab at him, knowing it was true and that it would stir something in him.

It worked, because he did crack a smile. "He would, wouldn't he?" ... "He'd tell me how weak I'd be. Let doubt and fear get in the way. He always told us kids, that the only enemy and greatest fear we should all acknowledge at all, was fear and doubt themselves. You're right... I bet he's fine. I'm sure he is doing a bunch of burnings, drinking lots of ale, and probably treating to his 'blood-sucking guests'." He chuckled lightly at the thought.

"Doesn't know when to give up, doesn't he? I dared to joke at him about that, said he was gonna get killed doing the unthinkable. He asked what I actually meant in a 'non too friendly way', and I said he was gonna kick himself to the curb, straining himself while interragating the 'guests'. And I dared to say that in a way, the vampires would win if he did himself in getting information out of him, and said that would be the greatest vampire hunter irony in history!" he actually smiled at the memory and looked up at his friends. "And you know what he did? He laughed! Ha! He actually laughed! The great Isran did a great big belly laugh! Until then we all thought it was impossible, a myth that he could laugh. Guess it wasn't."

"Indeed. Well, I'm sure he is fine." The Breton smiled at him then continued with hesitation, "Now... As for you three... While I'm talking to our 'happy' Arch-Mage I'm guessing since you can't be left alone..."

"Party!" Soldin jumped up and bellowed the word out for the whole world to hear and Dabiene winced at the loud voice then shook her head, "Oh no..." she muttered, "If I find you all in a state of chaos when I get back... It's on your head Soldin. I already have Mirabelle to worry about, so don't even think about it... And for Mara's sake put on some damn clothes you fool!"

Soldin was now grinning and putting out his chest. He pounded a fist on his chest and said merrily, "Alright ma'am! Nothing is gonna get these fine young ladies! Not with Sir Soldin around!"

"Right... I'll see that when I believe it." Dabiene rolled her eyes and walked to the dresser to get her clothes. Walking toward the bathroom door she heard Soldin mutter to himself as he walked out the door to get himself changed, "Don't suppose I could take a peek.. Oh nooo..." Once again the Breton rolled her eyes at the oaf's suggestiveness and got changed. As she came back into the main living area of her rooms Soldin had not come back yet. Turning to the two sisters and her defacto daughters she sighed with regret while grabbing the parchment and tucking it into her fine robes.

"I'm sure Soldin will be back shortly. I haven't time to lose. Mirabelle is probably throwing a fit that I"m not there in her quarter's yet. I just hope Soldin will not do anything.."

"Do what?" Soldin poked his head back through the door, still nearly naked.

"GO GET SOME CLOTHES ON! SHOO! BEGONE! OFF WITH YOU!"

"Sheesh, nearly as bad as that Head Harpy Dabs."

"Ooooh... I can be MUCH worse I assure you." But instead of a scowl she had an evil smirk and glint in her eye.

"Promise?" The Nord said in a cheeky manner. This earned him with a nearly hit fireball to his rump.

"Idiot."** Dabiene muttered walking away, the fires in her hand dying away as she walked out. Before she did though she said, "Have a good day! And don't get into any trouble! All three of you!"

"No promises!"
------------------------------------------------------

"We should head to Dawnstar. The closer and more frequent we are to civilization the better. From there we'll walk along the coast to Winterhold. I just hope they'll let us in."

Severus led the way by going on the North road of the crossway near the White River. The Ritual Stone was a little ways to the North East, not far and the farms were a ways to their left. They walked close to the road to not get lost but not close enough to be seen by the rampaging invaders. Although Severus thought that since they were out of sight it shouldn't matter, one could never be too careful.

"Hm... I wonder if we'll meet a few 'friends' along the way hmm? Although most of our kind has bowed willingly to Molag... I doubt will find much more resisting fellow night walkers."

He wondered if any friends of his were alive. A few years ago, before a rebellion was fought out against Ulfric he met an Altmer named Salthar. He wasn't put off in any way that he was an elf. In fact he quite injoyed the company. He didn't know anything about the Mer's past, but every time Falkreath was mentioned in name or in passing he would tense up. Severus had grown numb about his past, and now-a-days, one would find Severus wasn't the same bastard as he was before.

When all this had started, with the creatures and the Afflicted invading and covens dying out defending their lands and rights, he was arragant, snide, cutting, and unfeeling. But he wasn't a complete bastard. He respected women. He never touched one. Never hurt one. Never layed a hair unless it was wanted or allowed.

But since it had all started.. He became numb. Kinder... Softer. More hollow. Instead of making him more rough he had come to accept he needed to not only 'count all his chickens' but to also be vigilant, always... And to also be greatful for every single day that passed.

He did all but the last. And now it was too late for most of his coven mates. He was glad the Argonian lived. Severus never wanted to be leader but after being favored by Harkon years ago, almost being treated like a 'useful heir', or a tool, he figured that they thought he had the most experience. In a way he did. He fought so many draugr in his life, wanting to find out and explore much of half of his ancestor's lives as he could. And then this all started.

But he valued Jeroo's advice. He took it to heart. He was very much older than he was. And although age was just a number, his father told him some advice long ago. And now that he knew he was a vampire then at the time, he knew what he meant.

"Age, wisdom and power mean nothing. It all depends on how the man uses it. If he uses it all on himself, he will fall like the old Kings. If he uses it to help his kin and people, he will prosper."

He found out later that his father learned that from his own dad. And to him back then it sounded like his grandfather was a wise man. A very wise man. His mother agreed as much.

The Nord couldn't wait until they got to Dawnstar. Fewer of those creatures running around. And truth be told, he was tired. He didn't have a coven to worry about anymore and now that he had that off his shoulder's, he realized just how tired he was.

-------------------

(OOC:

*A shoutout reference to Hammer of the game Fable 2! If anyone plays it or has played it, she says almost the same exact thing as Soldin when she sees Sparrow/Hero of Bowerstone off to the Spire at the gates.

**If anyone has watched Everybody Loves Raymond, I think we all know Debra's famous line when she sees or hears Ray do/say something stupid. XD

So, here you go, big large text just for you! Happy... Um... Gosh what should I use. Earth day? Um.. Happy April! Ugh... Whatever you get my point! It's too early for Christmas and it's too early for my birthday and it's too late for a new years gift so there! Anyway, I'll stop my rambling. Hope you enjoyed it! And sorry for scripting Simus, hope you don't mind!)

 

[Simoran]

A spray of dirt released itself from the rock face and onto Grommund’s face and tilted his head upwards to see the cold stone ceiling as the dirt slowly rolled of his face. Every day the mine seemed to be slowly closing in on them, collapsing in on itself bit by bit. Grommund had barely been underground until now and he was beginning to consider it a blessing, every breath was an effort and his eyes wandered to Dravynea sitting in her trance, as he wondered how long she could keep the air breathable. It had been a week now and Grommund felt the madness descending, the only light from a ball of blue energy constantly in motion, which Grommund would spend hours just gazing into; it gave him a sense of peace and tranquillity. Grommund’s train of thought was broken by a moan from Beran, the injured guard clutching his chest, around which a strip of cloth was wrapped painted red with blood and coated in the dirt that kept descending from above, as his head lay motionless against the rock. The clink of metal resumed and Grommund turned an eye to Roggi, who would pause until the dust settled then once more plunge the pickaxe into the rock, standing beside which was an overly enthusiastic Toben, pulling the loose rocks aside; his energy seemed as limitless as his optimism Grommund mused.

Grommund turned his view once more to the luminescent orb, gazing into the sea of blue and remembering. The things, the dadera, they had come out of nowhere and in a second Kjeld was gone and Beran screaming on the ground. The sudden panic, everyone dashing at once, Beran’s mangled body being heaved across the ground, Gemma’s final scream as she was cut down, Roggi plunging his pickaxe into the rock and the boulders collapsing onto the dadera. The monsters hand was still visible, pointing out from under the rock constantly mocking them, trapped in the mine to become their tomb.

Grommund licked his cracked lips, as dry as the rock that surrounded them, but they had to conserve what supplies there were; though Grommund suspected Roggi may have had more than his share of the mead hence his belief in the possibility of escape. The pointless clinking doing nothing but adding to the speed of which insanity took hold, though Kjeld the younger had stopped his pacing days ago unable to stand anymore.

Suddenly there was a burst of movement as Toben lunged towards Roggi pushing him out of the way, the rocks tumbling down behind them and that moment was all Grommund needed, for in that moment a single beam of delicate sunlight crawled into the cave. Grommund found his feet and stumbled towards the light a bright yellow in contrast to the blue orb, grasping a pickaxe he plunged it into the opening, followed by Roggi both of the Nords heaving at the rock. Toben reached out removing the loose rocks and in a final giant heave the rocks shifted and sunlight poured in as fresh air engulfed them rushing into the mine. Grommund gulped at the air indulging himself in it and then began to laugh, echoes of laughter drifting throughout the cave.

(OCC this is Steamscorch Mine)

 

[Andre Marek]

The crackle and snapping of electricity and ghostly blue light was all Marek needed, to know that the Argonian had begun his own attack on the archers. For now the Argonian would have to fend for himself. He hoped the acrobatic lizard could handle the demons on his own but he wasn't about to risk turning around to see how his fight was going when he had six of the Daedra still firing at the group below. As of yet, none of the archers seemed to have noticed Marek, amid the confusion created by the Argonians attack and the battle below, giving him a ripe opportunity to take out a few before they could react.

Moving quickly, Marek ran towards the group of demons with his sword drawn and held in a low guard with both hands. When he was within a few feet of the group, he silently swung the lethal blade in an arc towards the first two archers, decapitating them both in a single motion. He now had only four of the demons to deal with. However, they were now quite aware of his presence. One of the archers turned and backpedalled wildly away from the truncated corpses of his fellow warriors while the other three rounded to face the new threat.

Marek immediately tucked his shoulder and fell into a forward roll as all three of his opponents fired their bows at him. Two of the arrows passed harmlessly over him as he rolled closer, the third caught in his leather kama and was flung harmlessly into the dirt as Marek completed his roll by springing to his feet and stabbing his sword up under the jaw of the closest Daedra. Releasing his grip on the weapon he allowed it and its unfortunate sheath to fall to the ground as he stepped forward and round house kicked the next monster in the chest, sending him screaming over the edge of the cliff. Four down, two to go. Marek had dispatched the two Daedra so quickly that the others didn't fully have time to react as he closed on them poised in a relaxed and classic fighting stance.

Marek didn't move as the first creature discarded his bow and, drawing a wicked looking short sword, ran wildly at him. As the demon swung towards Mareks neck, he stepped forward and raised his left arm so the the blade impacted with his gauntlet, stopping it dead in the air. Sliding his arm down the blade, Marek grasped and forearm of its holder and pulled him forward while swinging him around to face the final archer, who was in the process of firing his bow. The arrow struck the demon Marek was holding squarely in the chest and went almost completely through him. Shoving the dying creature into his surprised companion, Marek quickly closed with the last creature and caught him with a quick jab to the nose as he threw his comrades body off of himself. The Daedra stumbled back and growled as he covered his nose but he didn't go down so Marek threw a heavy handed blow to its stomach and followed up by slamming his knee into its face as it doubled over. The Daedra was thrown backwards into the dirt, unconscious but not quite dead. Walking up beside the demon, Marek knelt down and with a quick, sharp motion, broke its neck.

"And let that be the last of you," Marek muttered as he stood and looked around to confirm that the creatures were indeed dead. Satisfied that he hadn't missed anyone, Marek retrieved his sword from its temporary sheath before looking over to the Argonian, "That's it... for now. I trust you'll survive that injury, yes?" Marek nodded at the lizards injured shoulder. The injury was severe but didn't look all that life threatening. "We should probably get back down to the others... I'm not going to have to carry you again am I?"

 

[Odahviing]

Tyranus and the other vigilants had been walking for hours. The sun was relentless, and the barrels of water or wells at abandoned towns were completely dry. They found some ale in a mead barrel, but the knights did not wish to get drunk in such a dangerous region. Fact was, they were exhausted. They needed sleep. They needed food. They needed water. But stopping and resting wasn't such a great idea considering the dangers and risks that seemed to haunt the territory. He sighed at the thought of the dilemma they faced, but refused to stop and continued to trudge along.

After about another hour of hopeless treking the harsh lands, Tyranus noticed a stone structure off in the distance, a fort carved into the shelf of a rock cliff. The fort was built into the cliff, and a rather menacing look wall outlined the front, each of the two corners armed with a rock pillar for archers. A long tower reached its way up the cliff and at the top a small room for a look out. The fort looked extremely easy to defend and wouldn't be vulnerable to flames or attack from the back. It would be a perfect area to spend the night. Without hesitation, Tyranus began the long hike to the fort.

Only about half a mile away from the cliff, the group was interrupted by an unearthly howl to their left. Tyranus turned to see a pack of five werewolves sprinting towards them. One of the wolves that was noticeably larger than the wolves and far faster, presumably the pack leader, was a short distance from them. It wouldn't be long before the obtrusive creature would reach them.

Tyranus quickly prepared for the collision, but before he could even fire a bolt of lightning at the wolf, a large frost atronach appeared, courtesy of Vaalspar, and blocked the werewolf from reaching the knights. But nonetheless, the wolf refused to halt and lunged forward, jaws spread in hopes of sinking his fangs in the atronach. But a flash of bluish white and a spray of blood, the werewolf landed on the ground, his right side of his muzzle torn open and no eye longer in its socket. The wolf seemed stunned at first, but realization of what just happened swept over him and lost control and in a torent of slashing claws and snapping fangs, the beast hurled itself at the atronach once again. Using its hammer arm, it clubbed the the wolf in the jaw and sent it sprawling to the ground. The wolf howled in pain, and the atronach brought up its hammer arm and brought it down on the wolf's skull, putting the horrid beast out of its misery. The other four wolves were now within a few meters of the atronach, but two of them halted as the other two steamed forwards and launched themselves into the air. One werewolf received a heavy blow to the muzzle and hit the ground with a broken jaw, flailing around and wimpering, attempting to howl through it's smashed jaw. Despite the fact that the wolf was a creature of the daedra, Tyranus could not stand to watch any creature suffer and sent a bolt of lightning at the severely wounded wolf. The bolt made contact with its chest where it's heart would be and died instantly. The atronach had pinned the wolf with its hammer arm and was slowly crushing the beast. The wolf screamed with pain and in one last attempt, it grabbed the atronachs arm and with a sudden yank, tore the atronachs arm off. The atronach didn't flinch and quickly spun its other arm around, impaling the wolf. The other two wolves howled and charged forward. Noticing that the atronach couldn't get the wolf off its arm, Tyranus let out a weak war cry and motioned for the knights to charge forward as well. One of the wolves went after the atronach while the other focused on us. Tyranus was only a couple of meters away from the wolf when he had a random impulse to hurl his mace through the air. The mace made contact with the werewolf and surprise from the impact caused the werewolf to stumble and fall. Just as this happened, Tyranus tripped over a small rock and collided with the ground. Had he not thrown the mace, the wolf would've kept going and would be tearing into him. He silently thanked Stendarr and got up to aid in the fight. He looked over at the werwolf who he had thrown his mace at and watched as the knights beat the fallen foe with their maces while pelting it with different spells. Knowing they could handle the wolf on their own, he turned his attention to the other wolf who was currently shredding the atronach to chunks. The creature suddenly stopped and focused all his attention on his new target: Tyranus. Although the other may have been the pack leader, Tyranus could already tell that this one was far more skilled and nimble. Its eyes held more intelligence and had more muscle mass in proportion to his body than the others It's mane was slightly sleeker than most other werewolves and it had unusually large claws. Although unsure what, something about it made Tyranus feel unusually uncomfortable and worried.After a couple of seconds of glaring at each other, Tyranus suddenly fired an ice spike at the wolf in hopes of catching it off guard. Instead of charging at Tyranus and sinking its claws into him, the wolf simply stepped to the side and dodged his attack. Tyranus was in awe. Never before had he witnessed a werewolf perform a move of that precision. What happened next would haunt Tyranus for the rest of his life. The werewolf gave a crooked smile and spoke. "It was nice too meet you, Vigilant Tyranus. We will see eachother again in the future." And with that, the wolf sprinted off and easy scaled a steep ridged and disappeared.

Later that night in the barracks of the fort, Tyranus couldn't help but think about the mysterious wolf's words. It terrified him. He tried to ignore his new fear and focus on the mutton infront of him. At the lair of the wolves, the knights had found two freshly killed sheep, both of which had been killed through simple crushing force and didn't have any claw wounds, so the group didn't have to worry about infection set in by the wolves. At the fort, they had found a shallow well, but water is water and was more than the knights had had all week. In barrels they found fruit and mead and even found a few deserts in the kitchen. The group rejoiced and drank themselves asleep while stuffing themselves with mutton and fruit and delicious treats like honey roasted nuts and sweetrolls. Although he knew there were dark times ahead, Tyranus felt that they were safe for now and with a bottle of mead in one hand and a leg of mutton in the other, he leaned back and closed his eyes and joined in with the singing and merry-making.

 

[Zander Feredon]

''No, I'll be fine.'' He said smirking at the bounty hunter. Reaching over he broke the shaft of the arrow in two and threw away the longest part. ''Ill have to get that later,It happens to be the only thing slowing the bleeding at the moment.'' He said. Without a backward glance H'sikar took of running and cut a rather elegant front-flip of the cliff-side. ''Keep up will you?'' He asked playfully as he disappeared from sight.

 

[Simoran]

The survivors of Kynesgrove sat down basking in the glorious sunlight before them, as Grommund placed Beran, still clutching his wound, into the newly carved entrance to the cave, opening his eyes for the first time since the attack, gazing intently at the outside world. Snow crunched under Grommund’s boots as he stepped out of the cave glancing over his shoulder where he could see the mountain path stretching upwards and ahead the path to Windhelm and the white river winding through the landscape; he had almost forgotten Skyrim. The collection of rocks they had broken through lay above the path to Windhelm largely concealed from view, though travellers coming from the hill to the east might spot their location; though only orcs and hunters lived up there.

Grommund turned to Roggi who besides him and Toben, were the only people capable of standing, but Grommund wasn’t ready to give up not now when he was so full of hope. “We need to check on the inn, if it’s still in one piece we can grab some supplies before the journey to Windhelm.”

Toben motioned to follow but Roggi pushed him aside “I’ll come with you, I need to make sure you don’t forget any of the mead”, Grommund raised his eyebrow but didn’t respond any further and he turned in the direction of Kynesgrove; whilst Toben undaunted began grabbing what branches he could find.

Clambering carefully over the rocks Grommund and Roggi perched themselves on the overhang above the mines previous entrance, prior to its collapse surveying the scene of destruction. The crops lay trampled, the tents torn to shreds, whilst scarlet blood stains glistened in the sun where Kjeld and Gemma had fallen, though there was no sign of their corpses. Despite the devastation though the inn was notably intact, not even burnt, at least so it appeared. Judging it to be as safe as it’ll ever be Grommund began to descend only to be grasped by Roggi’s muscular hand “What if the monsters are still here but invisible.”

Grommund unprized his hand from Roggi’s grasp and landing on the ground beneath before looking up to Roggi “Well then I’ll die, want to join me.” Roggi sighed and began following Grommund down.

Slowly the pair approached the inn, which was eerily silent in contrast to the state the Nords were used to. As they neared the Braidwood inn a foul smell filled the air, the cause of which it did not take long to discover. To each side of the door a pair of spikes had been stuck into the wooden wall on which sat the rooting decapitated heads of Kjeld and Gemma. Grommund and Roggi’s eyes turned away, but a sudden sound cause them to turn back. A low, but audible hiss came from the head of Kjeld, whilst his eyes remained as vacant as before, then slowly but surely the jaws of the head began to motion up and down.

“They’ve been cursed” Roggi screamed backing away.

But Grommund tried to peer into Kjeld’s jaws, kneeling down, moving his head closer, unable to tell. In a moment there was a load hiss and Grommund darted backwards as a large serpent leapt out of his mouth, out of the corner of his eye spotting another slowly slithering out of Gemma’s.

Grommund withdrew his steel blade holding it before him, sunlight gleaming of it as the snakes slowly slid towards him, their heads rocking side to side mockingly daring him to strike and for a moment light fell onto the face of one of the serpents halting for a second as the light immediately disappeared. “What?” Grommund murmured, before realising. His sword. Rapidly angling his sword to the sunlight shining upon it, he turned the blade quickly reflecting the sunlight into it into the eyes of the pair of snakes, which quickly turned their heads to the side, as Grommund followed it with a sudden lunge and swipe with his blade decapitating both of them.

Grommund plunged his sword into the ground breathing heavily as Roggi suddenly seemed to find himself again. “Well I would have done that too if I had a sword.”

Turning their attention to the inn Grommund and Roggi quickly began collecting what supplies they could, whilst keeping an eye out for more serpents, before turning to leave.

“Ahh I can’t forget this” Roggi said, lifting a bow and quiver from the table, “made of the finest oak.”

“Your still the one carrying it” Grommund commented and the two of them threw the sacks of supplies over their backs before carefully making their way around the rock formation to the entrance to the cave.

Toben stood triumphant beside the entrance which was now concealed by snow coated branches, enough to keep them unnoticed.

“I hope we don’t lose it” Roggi laughed dragging the supplies into the mine. “Anyone love stale bread” he cried beginning to unload some pale yellow bread, which closer resembled baked sand.

Grommund laid down his sack as Iddra turned to him “We need to get Beran to Windhelm for healing.”

“I’ll go see if the road is clear” he acknowledged grasping his helmet and placing it on his head before exiting the cave; he didn’t want to risk a bite to the face again.

“Come on we need to go see if the road is clear” Grommund explained to Toben outside, who followed him as he carefully descended along the snow and rock until they were on an overhang directly above the road from which they could make out Windhelm. As they reached it Grommund turned his head to look, though his eyes began to widen “that’s a lot of dadera.”

(OCC Windhelm is still holding out, as someone mentioned it was doing so in an earlier post, there’s just a lot of dadera outside it now.)

 

[Dustman]

"So. I hear we're going past...that place."
"Wer's t'at? Wha' place?"
"The place of the old stories."
"Thar's lostsa ol' stories. Which 'nes?"
"You know..."
"Dammit, man, jus' tell me alreadey!"
"...Orphan Rock."
"Orphan Rock? Yer skerred o' that ol' den?"
"Well..I..-"
"Dammit, ye gerds are childrrren. There is su much worse den tha' witches lair! Ay-"

Roggard, a captain of the Order of the Silver Blade pinched his nose-bridge, and mumbled discustedly 'Iss dees new lads...farm-boys fer gerds...couldn' deal wit a sweet roll bandit...eugh' Turning about, he set a callused palm on the pommel of his battle-axe, and squinted his eyes into the red sky. He'd seen his Commander go off frantically when the sky first stained the ugly color, like rust-water, and had to calm down some of the townsfolk. Marius' missus had come back, a determined expression on her face, and talked to Gerdur in low tones. Pretty lass that missus. Strong, smart, fierce.

He turned to the woman, and was scanning the crowd when something caught his eye. A lone, armed rider, moving fast toward the group. Roggard strode in his direction, calling to his comrades "Eh' Domien, Rekker! I need some real men over here!"

Two Silver Blades left their posts, an Imperial and a Redguard. "We hav' a runner, who deff'nat'y ain't a deer. Ye' recagnisse 'im?" By now the man had come close now, his features visible, dark haired and tan, lined with the marks of approaching age. He wore armor, which glinted red in reflection of the sky, and carried a shield and mace. Manageable if combat was needed. The Redguard shook his head, but the Imperial seemed to be trying to remember something. Roggard rested his hand now firmly on his axe, and approached the now dismounted rider. "Whoa thar, stranger! Wass yer bisness 'ere!" The tall, tan man approached rapidly, quietly. "I sed, WASS YE-" The bearded Nord was interrupted by a tap on his shoulder - the Imperial, Domien. "Roggard. I remember where I saw him last. My sister, may she rest in peace, was getting married in the temple in Riften. I think he's a priest near there." Roggard raised an eyebrow at the Imperial's knowledge. "Guess ye Imperialss err lucky. Thank'e." He turned to the rider again, and cleared his throat, easing up slightly. "Alrehty. Eh priest, what brings ye to err humble camp?"

​

. . . .​

​

"Let's.......go to work! We have no time to lose! Aim for the Main front, we don't want this rock falling back on US now do we?" Baroth shouted, and began chipping at the rock formation, wasting no time after pulling two dark arrows from his armor, and healing them quickly. "I swear, I'm a damned idiot sometimes. Gave Marek and H'sikar protection, and not us. We're targets too!" He mumbled quietly. Stepping past the knight, he raised his gloved hands to the archers, a small shield spell in one hand, and an ebony flesh spell in the other. Clapping his hands together, he turned and shouted to Baroth over the noise of the combat in the valley, "If this works as I think it will, I'll only be able to keep this up for a bit! Let's hope Marek and H'sikar can take out those archers before then!" and released the spell, casting his arms in a semicircle in front of him. As the magicka flowed out of him, he grunted a sigh of effort; but it was a sigh of relief, as before him spread an almost invisible screen of green and grey, refracting the light from the lava pools, and twisting the smoke from the vents. ​

​

​

​

​

Satisfied with his successful if unstable creation, he walked to the front of the outcropping, drew his greatsword, and began to weaken the formation with massive swings.​

​

​

. . . . ​

​

In the shadow of Skyrim's great mountain, many miles now away from Riverwood, a teenage Redguard huddled around a quickly made fire. The two men near him warmed their hands as well, glad for the warmth after the mountain path. Their journey had began pleasant enough, the trio speaking in low voices as to not alert a nearby predator, when all of a sudden the sky changed dramatically, and with it, the weather. The clear skies of the morning gathered into dark storm clouds, and in minutes picked up into a blizzard, blinding the men to their surroundings. The sudden cold shift in the weather shut them up to stories and questions.​

​

When at last the storm eased, however, they found themselves surrounded by fiery trees. By some strange luck, they'd made it safely over the mountain path, if delayed several hours. Following the stone road, they met more luck in the form of another's misfortune - a toppled cart, ransacked and destroyed by the monsters of the land, marked with large scratch marks from menacing claws; Alesan used this to create the fire they now sat around. After a warm rabbit meal, the two men chatted, and Alesan listened.​

​

"Do you recognize this place, Bjorn? Are we near your cabin?" Falion inquired of the healer. Bjorn nodded, and pointed out the direction of the cabin from there as if read from a map. They were close indeed. It was a shame, Alesan thought, that the blizzard had interrupted his talk with Bjorn. However, now so close to their destination, the Redguard knew the time for conversation had passed. In minutes, they abandoned their makeshift camp, sweeping their footprints from the grass to cover their tracks.​

​

For half an hour, Falion and Alesan followed the brightly colored healer in a trail they could not follow, nor remember, until they came to a small cabin, nestled in the trees in a small clearing. Having reached the cabin, they set about looking for ingredients that might be used, the healer going farther from the cabin, into the woods. With a handful of various wild herbs, Alesan returned to the cabin, where Falion sat, reading one of the books the healer had stored.​

​

"What's that, Falion?" Alesan asked, referring to the book the wizard read.​

​

"Hm? Oh, I'm not quite sure yet. Some notes, I believe. I'm hoping to see if any of my research on vampires agrees with any of his own." The wizard responded.​

​

Alesan picked a book off the shelf as well, and sat down to read himself. Opening to the first page, he saw strange symbols drawn. They curved and twisted like branches on an old tree. He turned to the middle of the book, and found diagrams of one thing to another. 'I wonder what Falion sees in this.' Alesan thought privately, disregarding the odd symbols he didn't understand. He placed the book back on the shelf.​

​

"Shouldn't Bjorn be back by now, Falion? He's been gone awful long" The teen asked.​

​

"Can't say. Maybe he found some-" All of a sudden there came a thumping on the door, rough and rapid. "-Guess that answers our question." The wizard said, as he shut his book and walked over to the door. Alesan watched him open the door, and step outside. All was quiet for a moment, and then sounds of struggle could be heard. The door closed, leaving only a thin access to the outside. Falion didn't come back in. Something was not right.​

​

Alesan crept over to the door, and peered his head out. What he saw shocked him. Ten or so grim bandits, inscribed with dark runes across their faces, and armed with daedric weapons circled the front of the cabin. The healer and the wizard were bound hand and mouth, grabbed by a group of bandits. Alesan shut the door suddenly, the noise no doubt attracting some attention. He had little time it seemed. Rushing over to the table, he inscribed a quick note in nervous writing:​

​

Bandits. Prince Servants. Rift. Cabin. Help. They have Falion and Bjorn. - Alesan​

​

Going over to his pack, and ripping some cloth from a stored shirt, he rolled up his message and tied it to the leg of the bird. Glancing around wildly, he searched for a window, and finding one, opened the cage, removed the bird, and brought it to the window. Leaning close, he whispered a quick command laced with illusion magic in the ear of the bird "Go to Riverwood. Find Marius." He tossed the bird into the air, and it took flight, soaring high into the sky.​

​

The door opened to the cabin, and Alesan spun around, drawing his swords to what he knew would be too many armed opponents. There were six of them, pushing into the cabin.​

"Ooooh lookie that, it's a kid! Ooooh and with such nice looking toys" mocked one of the bandits. Alesan stayed silent, ready​

​

"Well well well, if I didn't see an enemy of the prince before. Ha! I bet Clavicus will pay us BIG fer this one!" Said another.​

​

Then, all at once, they descended on the teen, who fought back in mad fury. But there were too many, and he was overwhelmed.​

​

Alesan was knocked unconscious, the vague memory of his swords being taken from him his final thought before darkness overwhelmed him.​

 

[Simoran]

Grommund looked over at the bridge leading to the entrance to Windhelm, cluttered with soldiers and barricades, defying the hordes of daedric beings on the other side stretching all the way across the bridge over the White River and then it appeared eastwards; had they come from Morrowind? The creatures stood distorted by the spikes of their daedric armour, whilst some of them were pale and white in appearance, like nothing he had ever seen before, though his gaze changed to a large snakelike creature, almost alive yet not quite alive, moving erratically along the ground, it appeared to be made of the daedric metal and as he gazed at one it jaw jutted open with a mechanical precision and fired a hail of bolts into the barricades, all silhouetted by the noon sun.

“We can’t get through that. We need to get back”Grommund said turning to Toben, who began to shift back alongside the rock before scaling it back up to the cave, though in a jerk of movement he ducked his body down, as Grommund looked up in anticipation.

“There’s some dadera”Toben whispered breathing heavily and slowly pulled himself sideways as Grommund slowly moved, raising his head above the rocks, which with his stone grey helmet, allowed him to remain concealed, partially helped by the trunk of a tree.

Through his eye slits Grommund made out three figures in full daedric armour slowly, making their way down the mountain side turning to head towards the inn. But then. Stopped. One of the dadera stopped and turned his head to the concealed cave entrance, changed direction and began to approach. Grommund felt his cold breath against his face, then saw it as it curled elegantly out of his helmet and ducked further down, but he had not been seen and as the crunch of boots in the snow became audible Grommund realised their mistake.

The snow. They had left their footprints in the snow, scattered all around the entrance to the cave, the other figures paused and slowly followed the approaching dadera, whilst keeping their distance. The nearest figure looked down to the collection of branches beneath his feet, slowly bending down to move them aside, as Grommund froze petrified every agonising second feeling like a lifetime. Then in an instant a arrow shot out of the mines entrance and cleanly through the slit in the being’s helmet, it’s corpse promptly flopping to the side.

The dadera quickly withdrew they’re jagged blades, one of them rapidly moving towards the cave, as in that same moment Toben charged over the rock and impaled it through the back, Grommund following suit landing a strong bash to the final dadera with his shield, though his subsequent sword slash bounced uselessly of its heavy armour. In a moment its blade came towards him and Grommund felt his arm buckle under his shield as it pushed down on him, when out of nowhere Toben’s blade swung through the air into the monsters should, then again, followed by a final strike to the neck, as Toben stood triumphant.

Both of them staring at their fallen opponents as Roggi cautiously rose out of the cave, pushing through the branches.

“Are they all gone”asked Roggi as he arose from the cavern, bow in hand bow with his quiver slung over his back.

“All the ones we saw”Grommund replied as Toben bent down carefully inspecting the dark daedric weapon at his feet.

“We need to get these out of sight”Grommund urged and Roggi and he both hauled the corpses into the cave, as Toben brushed the snow aside, so as to remove their footprints and the signs of the skirmish, fortunately the there was not much snow covering the mountain so far down so it did not look out of place.

Grommund released his grip on the final body, letting its armour clatter against the solid stone floor, before bending down and carefully removing the figures helmet, and then that of the others, an elf and two savage looking Nords.“These aren’t dadera these are men and elves”Grommund revealed to the others which was followed with a cry of“traitorous wretches” from Roggi, before turning to the injured Beran, curled up on the floor.

“We won’t be able to get into Windhelm there’s to many of these things”Grommund said sorrowfully.

Roggi turned to face him, with a grim look on his face,“Beran won’t last much longer unless we can get him to a healer.”

“Well if we’re going to go we’ll need to make sure there’s no more of those things up there about to follow us down, we won’t be able to move quickly with Beran”Grommund concluded.

“Well there’s no better time than now”Roggi declared his spirits lifted at the prospect of leaving the cave once and for all, “Kjeld you just make sure none comes in, now let’s go before it gets dark.”

Grommund and Roggi made their way out of the cave, where Toben awaited them, before cautiously making their way up the mountainside, the lush green trees around them conveying a sense of peace, in contrast to the danger that surrounded them, tension building with each step, unbroken by birdsong which was strangely absent.

As they passed around the dragon burial something caught Toben’s eye as he called out to Grommund and Roggi“look there’s an overhang up ahead on that rock, we’ll get a better view from up there”, the two Nords nodding in agreement.

They’re boots sank in the deep snow as they made their, on top of which they found the remains of an old camp, the charred logs long since burnt out and the worn tent flapping in the cold wind, from which they were reasonably well protected. The overhang stood high providing a good view of the surrounding area, whilst remaining invisible to anyone below.

Grommund turned his eyes to a small collection of structures in the distance, but a sudden flash of light drew his attention to the sky which had turned a sudden dark blue, through which green and purple lights crackled, seemingly coming out of nowhere.

“What?”Toben said his mouth wide as he gazed into the sky, which Grommund felt like it was doing the same to them as the clouds formed into dark shapes in his mind.

Bursts of colour seemed to come up out of the mountain itself just, out of sight and Grommund began to push his way further up through the snow, moving towards the source of the curious lights, followed timidly by Roggi and Toben.

A small cave loomed overhead, in which some animal may have once had a lair, but now was only filled with the cold wind. The lights seemed to be coming over some rocks to the side of the cave and hauling himself onto one of them Grommund peered down.

Grommund looked down to see a large trail of snow and rock all the way down to a dark stone structure, over which many dadera were scattered, whilst an intimidating statue stood beneath a horizontal vortex of dark blue colour, out of the top of which evil colours sprang fourth and beneath a twisted stone pillar stood, scarred with handholds used by dadera descending down it. Even Windhelm could be seen, as one of the metallic snake creatures slid down the pillar before alongside the endless masses proceed to descend down the mountain path, o their march to Windhelm.

Grommund continued to star from the precipice, as Toben and Roggi pulled themselves up, high above and out of the view of the countless beings below.

“That’s a portal like the oblivion gates I’ve heard about”Roggi gasped,“were doomed, they’ll find us, kill us, take Windhelm” he continued his voice becoming frantic.

“Maybe if we could get closer we could turn it off, or make it disappear somehow”Toben suggested notably undaunted.

“Don’t be foolish lad”said Roggi desperately.

“Surely it doesn’t matter if they’ll kill us anyway”Toben retaliated.

Roggi motioned to reply but Grommund hushed them both“I think I have an idea.”

(OCC I do know what oblivion gates and weather look like, I just thought they might look different for different princes, this being at the Sacellum of Boethiah and therefore is meant to be a portal to one of her realms)

 

[fellowknight]

"I swear, I'm a damned idiot sometimes. Gave Marek and H'sikar protection, and not us. We're targets too!" He mumbled quietly. Stepping past the knight, he raised his gloved hands to the archers, a small shield spell in one hand, and an ebony flesh spell in the other. Clapping his hands together, he turned and shouted to Baroth over the noise of the combat in the valley, "If this works as I think it will, I'll only be able to keep this up for a bit! Let's hope Marek and H'sikar can take out those archers before then!" and released the spell, casting his arms in a semicircle in front of him. As the magicka flowed out of him, he grunted a sigh of effort; but it was a sigh of relief, as before him spread an almost invisible screen of green and grey, refracting the light from the lava pools, and twisting the smoke from the vents. Satisfied with his successful if unstable creation, he walked to the front of the outcropping, drew his greatsword, and began to weaken the formation with massive swings.

Cling! Clang! Was All Baroth heard as the Dustman chopped and cut at the Base of the Formation. It would be a second or two before they broke through the base and pushed the formation over. "Hopefully, our allies on the hill can hold out for that long! Let us hurry! The longer we take is the longer they hold out! Slash, Cut, break as fast and hard as you can! Hurry!" He yelled, before Bringing down his sword with a loud Clang! Followed by a Crack! As the rock began to split.

 

[Dabiene Caristiana]

(OOC: I figure I can still post something: The confrontation of Mirabelle and Dabiene. Oh noooooo. Mage throwdown! Just kidding. "Awww, no smack down?" you say? Don't worry, I'll whip up something for you all. )

Dabiene was lost in thought as she decended the tower of the student quarters. She wished she could make 'check up stops' in her Destruction Division. But obviously the Arch-Mage needed to talk to her. She had a feeling it wasn't just about Soldin either. Perhaps it had something to do with where he came from, Fort Dawnguard. The woman didn't blame her. The Fort was a major military fort and a huge vantage point. But if the Arch-Mage was looking for a hand out on new 'Dawnguard Enchantments' she'd have to make do with Soldin. The Fort was getting attacks left and right.

And she didn't know if the Fort would take refugees or not. And if they did, that would mean every man had to be at the stands to push forces back, subdue them, and keep them back so people could safely get through the cave and into the Canyon. That, or they would have to make a very obvious new path up and over the mountain side just to get there. And that wasn't an option. They would be overtaken in no time.

With that in mind she had no idea why the Daedra couldn't take them from the mountain side? Then again, it was extremely steep, very cold at the top of the mountain. Not to mention lots of trolls that lived there would take out some of their minions. And that could be costly to them. It was only a matter of time though when they would figure out a way through without the cave.

Dabiene stepped outside and viewed the large courtyard. The statue of Shalidor stood before her, dominating the whole yard, his arms spread as if welcoming all to his protective embrace. She smiled slightly. Secretly she felt protected by the ancient Nord mage. As if he was watching all of them. Protecting them.

But how long would that last? Would his statue fall? The college crumble when they finally die and fail? She shook her head at the thought. So far they stood strong, and besides all else waves of the hordes of creatures that attacked them if at all were rare. They could hardly stand the cold. And when they did they were already weak. Rogue vampires and servants of Molag were different. They were already dead and as such were the real threat. But again they were rare.

She walked across the yard at a leisurely pace. Perhaps to irritate the Arch-Mage subconciously or just to get a nice morning walk she didn't know. Perhaps it was both she mused. Although the thought of the first reason did make her smirk.

As she reached the doors of the main building to the Hall of Elements she took a deep breath. She was thankful she didn't have any horrid nightmares or dreams that plagued her with guilt or thoughts. Like the girls not liking her or using her. Vaermina gave her a run for her money and tried to make her past doubts a recurring nightmare. Like ones where she would lose control and eat the girls, or kill friends like Soldin like a mad beast. Or worse... Do both and join Hircine and rage havoc on the mortal plane of Nirn. She shuddered but knew those thoughts were not true at all. She'd rather send shock spells and end her life in a painful way than make them true.

Walking in the main building she looked around and saw a few people moving about. No doubt preparing for today's patrol and guard duties. Along with daily trainings. Apprentices, guards, scouts and others alike went in daily to weekly shifts. So each could do their job while also getting training or reviews in. They always kept themselves up to date. Sometimes even she had to do those jobs. After all she helped Faralda retrain and educate people in the Destruction sector.

As she ascended the stairs to the Arch-Mage Quarters she couldn't help but feel nervous. Outside though she looked the perfect picture of calm and relaxed. The woman just oozed regalty but also protectiveness and authority.

But even the Divines had their nerves break down and had their own fears. So Dabiene wasn't an exception. She was a nervous wreck.

When she finally reached the door that opened the Mirabelle's room she took a deep breath and knocked fairly hard upon the brass door. It sounded loudly from her knock and it wasn't long before she hard a 'come in'. It didn't sound irritated... It sounded tired. Which slightly worried the werewolf.

She pushed the door open and looked to her left. There she saw Mirabelle looking at the small ingredient garden that still after all these years dominated the suite. Most of the College had either changed or was revamped for war. But the Arch-Mage's rooms still stayed the same. Sure it had rooms added upstairs for guard stations but that was on the roof basically. So it wasn't really much of an add-on. There were changes here and there, more wardrobes, weapon racks, staff holders and mannequins for armor and special battle robes on display and for easy access.

Dabiene turned her attention to the woman she had known for years. The fellow Breton had her hands clasped behind her back, her head tilted downward as she looked at the indoor garden, seemingly deep in thought.

The other Breton perked her head up as the Arch-Mage spoke quietly. The werewolf had to listen carefully as the woman spoke quietly.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have acted like I have. I have not rested easily as of late, and for that I am sorry."

If the visitor was shocked, she didn't show it. Without invitation to do so, she took a few steps forward and into clearer light. Her hazel eyes betrayed nothing to the other woman as she turned around to face one of the heads of her sectors. It was a moment or two before Dabiene spoke.

"It is not me you need to apologize to, Belle. N'you know that." Rarely did the regal woman call her by her nickname. Yet she was the only one that called her that, or even dared to. It was even rarer that the woman connected her words together like she did. They were both tired it seemed.

"I know. I shall do that later after this."

Silence.

"So, now that you have me at your service, like always need I remind you, what is it that you require of me?"

The woman visibly flinched at the reminder of how she treated one of her trusted head Mages. A friend of hers no less. She also was reminded of how Dabiene carelessly offered her 'service' as if Mirabelle would make her do something awful... And that she would follow her commands. No matter what. That, she needed to put a stop to. Now.

"You realize that you have a voice, that you needn't follow my every command. You aren't my servant."

"But that is where you must realize, madam. We are at war, with the very Princes themselves. I'm a soldier. I've always have been, always had myself become one, and always will be. There must always be a head, there must always be--"

"But at war. There are no leaders. Truely. Is there not? For even a leader must 'lower' himself to trust a mere lacky of the unit he commands. If he doesn't, then they all fall. They must stand resolute. All of them. Together."

A moment passed in silence as she looked at Dabiene in the eyes. The women locked eyes and the Head continued.

"I may be this College's Arch-Mage, but I'm just as vulnerable as all of you."

"I've never seen you get 'down and dirty' like the rest of us, madam. So I guess that must be true." The werewolf immediately regretted her words, and her friends gaze hardened in response.

"Dealing with everyday losses and writing for information, regarding choices of this and that, to ensure everyone's safety can be just as 'down and dirty' as you say, Lady Caristiana."

This time the werewolf flinched, quite visibly. She despised that title. Dispised her last name and what her family stood for. Besides, they were probably long gone and dead anyhow. But the warning was clear. To not throw her weight around.

"That wasn't what I meant to suggest or im--"

"Then what do you suggest? There are times where I have to check the wards guarding this behemeth of a place to keep most of those demons out. And believe me, it isn't something where afterwards I can just sit down as if nothing happened at all! Having a glass of fine wine while reading a book! It's exhausting and taxing. The task extorts my body and mana as it is. So tell me, what more do you want me to do?"

Dabiene sighed quietly and shook her head, wanting to dismiss the subject. "Why did you ask me to come here, really?"

"I... I need information in regards to..." Dabiene strode over while her fragile looking yet strong fingers pulled out the missive.

"From Isran. I ask only of you to read the first paragraph and his signature for varification."

A second or two passed. Mirabelle scanned the indicated paragraph, seeing words that clearly stated Soldin was by Military Authority, allowed to be here. She looked at the second page and clearly saw his rough signature then quickly handed it back to the other Breton.

"That's all? Quite quick if you ask me."

"I saw what I needed. That is all. He may stay." She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture and turned around to walk over to a chair near the garden.

The sector head folded the parchment and put it back inside her robes. But she wasn't going to be dismissed so easily.

"There's something else is there?"

"There is nothing, you're dismissed. I'll talk to Soldin as soon--"

"Don't. Lie. To me." She gave her best glare and her warning voice. It was then that Dabiene noticed the huge stack of papers a ways off on her desk.

"I'm not lying to you. I'm merely not telling the complete facts."

"Which obviously somehow includes a big issue or situation. Tell me. Is it not such a big issue to where you just love to have a massive pile of papers on your desk? Do you just love to sit there with a huge headache day after day?"

The Arch-Mage turned her head in a flash and she gave a dark glare. "Are you telling me that I cannot do things I need to do on my own? That I cannot look after myself?"

"I'm telling you or rather, suggesting that you can ask for help. Not a few minutes ago you said that even a leader of a Unit needs to trust his soldiers. Why can't you do that with me? Or am I too much for you to handle?" She smirked at the last part.

Mirabelle relaxed a bit, knowing the woman standing in front of her was just trying to help, and to poke a little fun at her. "Although I enjoy our spats and sparring, it isn't of great import, but if you want to know fine."

"I just wanted to know how the Fort is holding up. If possibly there would be anyone there who could come up and--"

"Soldin is here for that. He's not just a soldier, he's also adept in Enchanting and Illusion. He knows some Restoration spells for repelling undead, but he isn't very good at them. And although he claims he just has a huge spirit on the field and claims it has nothing to do with any Illusion magic." The werewolf chuckled.

"You think he doesn't know how much magic he has?"

"Oh, I don't think. I know. But... I would like Drevis to evaluate and see if it is subconscious magic. That would certainly be interesting. But please, madam, he knows what he's doing. He may act like an oaf at times but he very well trained. He follows orders straight away when given to him. Besides, you think that your first impression of him, a lousy, lazy, idiotic simpleton would last not months but years with Isran?"

Both of them laughed at the thought. He boy wouldn't have lasted if he was a true idiot against Isran.

"You're right... I guess I've been on edge for the last few days."

"No worries, I haven't had the best of sleep in a while. I doubt Soldin will either..." Dabiene's face had started to fall after she stopped laughing, remembering Isran reminded her of the thought that he could be dead, right now.

"What is it...?" Mirabelle stood up next to her friend with a concerned expression. "Did something happen? I hope I wasn't too hard on the lad."

"I'm sure your insults were next to nothing compared to Isran's harsh and unusual punishments for cry-babies." Mirabelle snicked at that comment but quickly stopped when her friend's face went slack.

"Isran may be gone. Gone as in dead. His scouts have reported a huge wave coming. Although the only true way to get into the Canyon is through the tunnel..."

"...It may be too much for them to handle..." The other Breton finished for her.

"Indeed." The werewolf sat in the other chair beside the one where the other woman sat in. The Arc-Mage followed her action.

"I told him that Isran would never let one of those demons just take him down with ease. And that he's still alive. It seemed to calm him but I don't know if it will keep him in high enough spirits. Isran is like a substitute father to him."

"I'm sure the Redguard is fine. Everyone knows how tough and stubborn the man is. He's probably drinking away with his victory he earned."

"Ha! I figured that's what he would do. I've never met him, but after all the rumours I'm sure that's what he's doing right now."

"And if he isn't... Well, I hope the Divines got him first."

"Agreed." Dabiene went to stand up but stopped as she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked at Mirabelle in question before the woman spoke.

"I'll be fine. Now go. The rounds and check ups await!"

"As they do every single day..." Came the sarcastic remark.

"Oh, and before I forget.." Dabiene was at the door when she turned to ask her friend a question.

"Is there by any change Cilla could learn a bit more... I don't know... Something more useful? She's becoming quite bored and so eager." She chuckled.

A brow raised. "I'm sure I can come up with something."

"Perhaps with Colette? She could use the anti-undead spells."

"Of course. I'll speak with her today when I can."

With a nod in thanks Dabiene opened the door and left without another word.

(OOC: Ok, not much of a cat fight, oh darn. Just some senseless drabble and such. Sorry! But every rp needs some filler in there. Am I right?)

 

[Simoran]

Once more hauling himself onto the overhang, Grommund felt the charcoal armour scraping against the rock beneath, snow making its way out almost as silently as it had crept into the armour, from which wicked barbs curved. He looked to his side as Toben concealed in head to foot in the foul armour pulled himself onto the rock, from his helmet he could hear his rapid breathing, erratic and out of pace; it was significantly harder climbing the mountain in a full set of heavy metal armour than the simple padded cloth they were used to wearing. Grommund himself finding the amour uncomfortably warm, going so far as to envy Roggi wrapped in cloth against the cold winds, his bow slung across his back as he joined them on the overhang looking over the structure and portal below.

“This will never work”Roggi claimed the bitter cold wind almost hiding his voice.

“The ones we killed were men, some of them might be, we might be able to go undetected”Grommund called the wind carrying his voice to the heavens. He couldn’t allow Roggi’s fears to get to him, they had to do this, they would do this. He couldn’t let them to do to the people of Windhelm as he had to...

Shaking his head, he almost toppled over, the helmets horns damaging his balance, but having found himself and heaving himself over the rock and into the mound of snow beneath he began his descent. His feet began to skid through the field of white beneath as he worked to steady himself, feeling for rocks beneath the blanket of snow, as crackles of green energy screamed through the dark sky. Toben alongside a reluctant Roggi followed in his path calling “I’m pretty sure you’re underestimating the eyesight of these dadera”; his voice barely audible. Grommund understood his concern, but most of the dadera below appeared to turn their eyes, directly to Windhelm as soon as they climbed out from the portal, before marching towards the city, with the exception of a pair of guards whose gaze constantly shifted, though so far at not moved to the mountainside behind them. Grommund supposed he couldn’t blame them, there was certainly an impressive view of Windhelm from up here that would likely be invisible under a hail of snow, were it not for the dark lights carving their way through the sky.

For a moment Toben slid, Grommund turning to seize him as he regained his footing, it was difficult to grip with the gauntlets, which might as well have been bear paws for all their use. He turned his head as Roggi halted beside one of the rocks, nodding towards Grommund before ducking out of sight at the armour clad figures continued their careful descent.

The stone platform was only a few metres away now and Grommund could see the statue towering over them, that of an imposing figure wielding even more imposing weapons. With the gaze of the guarding dadera averted Grommund made his way through the rocks, sliding down onto the second platform between the wall of the structure and the rear of a worn out tent, landing with a small thud on the ground.

Quickly Grommund brushed the snow off his armour, revealing the lines of red light piercing their way through it. Grommund straightened himself up, took a deep breath, and then began to manoeuvre himself past the tent and onto the platform, Toben stumbling after him.

Armoured dadera in formation marched down the stone stairway, the pair pausing for a moment until a gap appeared for a second, allowing him to push through to the top platform, the marching dadera ignoring his actions, though the same could not be said for the two guarding the pillar who turned towards the approaching figures, as Grommund began to imagine their perplexed faces.

One of the dadera took a step towards him, when an arrow softly embedded itself in his armour, before another one flew by as Grommund stood above on the mountainside raining arrow after arrow on the confused monsters. In an instant the dadera exiting the portal halted their march, before wading through the snow towards the “insolent mortal.” Roggi himself beginning to flee the approaching horde, as Grommund hoped he would escape.

Turning his gaze to the stone pillar before him he clasped at its solid handholds pulling himself up, Toben and himself unnoticed in the current chaos. Face to face with the portal Grommund found it more closely resembled a paper thin body of dark water, his armoured self reflected in a menacing fashion, then with a gulp he pulled himself into it.

 

[Simoran]

The sensation of passing through the portal was like that of being submerged in water, as it slowly smoothed over Grommund’s features, feeling wet as it flowed around him but, emerged in a lurching motion entirely dry, momentarily pausing to glance up and reassure his grip on the pillar, which continued to reach upwards for a few metres. The area around him itself appeared to be some sort of shaft, with the portal at the bottom, metre long bridges above stood linking the scarred stone to the ground beside it.

In a couple of pulls Grommund had reached the, small bridge, manoeuvring himself onto it and entering chaos. I contrast to the orderly descent below, the daedra above were barging their way through, consumed with bloodlust for the destruction of Windhelm and its people, who Grommund had to struggle against to avoid tumbling back into the shaft and through the portal; which he feared would likely lead to a considerable injury upon considering how far he climbed. Pushing through the horde the heat beneath his armour became intolerable, as the beings shoved past him, making him slightly grateful for the heavy amour he wore, as the barbs protruding from their armour would have surely torn him to shreds on contact.

In a burst of speed and strength Grommund charged through the screaming daedra, escaping weary yet in one piece, turning to look at the chaotic formation surrounding the pillar, making their way down it. A sudden clattering causing Grommund to rapidly propel himself to the side of an approaching armoured behemoth, the crowd moulding around it, which such grace that it did not even slow its pace; not that it would have had too if they had failed to do so. He had seen one of the constructs from viewing the battle for Windhelm, the giant metallic snake, appearing on closer inspection to be almost twice his height, near over ten metres long at least, its layers of overlapping daedric metal emitting its distinctive red glow. The constructs hinged mouth appeared smooth to that of the rest of it, in which were to large empty eye sockets peering into the heart of the thing, its elongated body gradually reducing in size until ending in a miniscule tip of a tail. The metal snake itself also had a set of rotating curved spikes all along its top and underbelly, the ones beneath propelling it forwards and as it reached the precipice, Grommund imagined it might just roll off, but the spikes along the back appeared to somehow grip onto the pillars handholds before descending with an impressive level of control.

As the thing disappeared from view the crowd formed once more and Grommund suddenly became aware that Toben was no longer with him. He must have got separated when we came up, he thought to himself, as his eyes scoured the group of identically armoured beings, looking for a sign of his friend. As he did so he noticed one of the armoured beings patrolling around the formation, and carefully glancing towards him, he considered whether it could be Toben, though avoiding turning his head directly at him for fear of the consequences if it was not. With a quick breath to reassure himself, Grommund raised his hands slightly and fidgeted for a moment, watching out of the corner of his eye as the figure did likewise slowing to halt as it passed him.

“Excuse me” growled a familiar voice, and Grommund breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing Toben’s voice, in particular glad as his impression of a daedra in terms of speech was appalling.

“Yeah” Grommund replied nodding his head to Toben, a breath of relief coming from beneath his helmet as well.

Now reunited the pair turned their attension to their surroundings observing that the floor, a dull grey colour, was perfectly even and flat, stretching out for maybe a mile before reaching a towering wall, much like a giant wave in appearance, curved, though ridiculous smooth and a glossy shade of grey. The structure itself looked almost as if it were clay, whilst it gave an impression of majesty and great architecture, as Grommund also found them as a strong reminder of their miniscule size in this world that appeared to have been fashioned for giants, as four equally tall walled passages lined the colossal courtyard, one in each direction, through which formations of daedra entered, approaching the overcrowded portal.

The sky itself felt familiar, though the shades of blue were constantly changing, whilst the green and purple flashes of light now conveyed a sense of both elegance and that of impending danger. Under which Grommund noticed a number of towers merged into the wall, which he considered might make a good place to go in order to provide an understanding of the area, with which he and Toben edged their way through the empty grey expanse of oblivion.

 

[Simus]

(OOC: I'm going to do a post for the girls just to keep that story going. As for the siege, just assume Simus is badassly crushing daedra while the rocks start to fall. I'll have him GTFO when they do, just not feeling that creative right now. And I'm trying to get Hale back in.)

After both getting a good hug by Dabiene, Alice and Cilla watched with great amusement as Soldin pushed Dabiene's annoy buttons. She wouldn't tolerate it from anyone else but she loved Soldin like a brother and really did think his antics were funny. He helped her loosen up, something she desperately needed, and that would help her live longer. Soldin left shortly after Dabiene did to get dressed, then returned a few minutes later, ready to take advantage of his time alone with his leading ladies*.

Alice gave him a big hug upon his return.

"It's really good to see you Soldin. You're much better to hug when you smell nice. Mirabelle will let you stay by the way. She and Dabs just agreed on it."

Normally Alice didn't divulge what she Saw unless it was important or necissary but she was in a good mood and she figured Soldin could use some good news. She could only see glimpses of the future in passing but she could get a closer look at a particular strand if she focused on it. The discussion between Dabiene and Mirabelle was a local event that occured only a few minutes away so finding it was easy. Seeing more distant events was harder however and sometimes dangerous, especially those with several distant and equally plausable outcomes. Seeing the end of this apocolypse for example had no one answer and trying to find such an answer would burn out Alice's mind before she was done. Seers like her were becons of light for the creatures of Oblivion and more than one had suffered posession by daedra for trying to fathom some impossible future.

Cilla then sat Soldin onto Dabiene's bed, got into his lap and gave him a big hug.

"I owe you that from last night. I love you Soldin."

To her, Soldin was the most fun dog ever. He was a big guy so he could pick her up easily and he was fun like a puppy and he gave good hugs, which was very importaint in Cilla's mind. They had the whole day to be together. Alice didn't have any lessons today and Drevis, the College's absentminded illusion teacher, wanted to do his own research since he saw Alice every day, so she didn't plan on much other than making some breakfast and hanging out in her footies all day. Cilla had no more desire to get dressed than her sister and had decided that she would take a day off too.


*I hope you don't mind the scripting Dabs. Just helps speed up what you were probably going to write anyway. Plus, c'mon, we both know that Soldin would take full advantage of mama's absence for lulz with the girls . You can, of course ask me to change it if you like.