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    Allessan spent most of the next week quietly roaming the city. The knight knew very little about about whatever it was the pair had discovered a week ago. He knew little about the sickness that plagued the land, and even less about some mysterious sigils. But what he did know was that the city would not long protect them from a force that could empty out half a village. It didn't seem like Ossion's handywork. But that didn't mean it was impossible. The vampire lord was cunning, and if he wasn't responsible for the disease, it was not much of a stretch of the imagination that he was in league with those who were.

    A few days passed while they waited for one of their number to recover from her injuries. The war priest, Beren, was constantly coming in and out of the bar. Allessan had to admit that the man's devotion to someone he didn't really know was impressive. But then, he wasn't really versed in the ways of the priesthood of Arkay. He went for a short walk, and when he returned, the eccentric elf had returned. Allessan joined him, "Have we heard nothing about what the sigil means?"


    Sorceress Supreme!
    Kristina sat at the bar, mulling over her choices. They were disturbingly small in number. She could carry on with the group that she didn't know or trust, or she could strike out on her own, or she could return to Karthwasten and try to discern what that odd sigil had meant. Of course, the thought of encountering the thing once again made her feel ill. Before that night, she'd never thought of magic as 'good' or 'evil'. Magic was magic and the intent of the caster made the difference. But that 'sigil' as they'd taken to calling it...she shuddered. She glanced up as her fellow breton and the dunmer with the strange tattoos on his face sat at the bar. The pair began speaking about the sigil, and Katrina couldn't help but pipe up "I can say one thing. Whatever that thing is, it is evil."


    forum hobo
    "I knew it."
    What Solun told to the others at the Silver-Blood Inn did not change a thing. Unkmarog always had a hunch something more sinister was brewing behind the scenes, and the sickness could be just a small part of it. Whatever it was, the orc remained resolute to make things right -- even if it meant charging into the abysmal pits of Oblivion. Unk went to his room to meditate... and drink.

    Days passed. Most of the time he was spotted at the inn drinking or roaming the streets, greeting his new companions whenever they crossed paths. But there were also times when he was actually training, preparing both his body and mind for the upcoming challenges. Wearing only his ragged pants, worn leather bracers, shoes and hood, he underwent gruesome training sessions on the rocky cliffs of Markarth. The orc's dirty skin glistened with sweat as he was punching a small rock, practising his sword forms, carrying stones in his arms and doing push-ups. If someone saw this, they would most likely rub their eyes in disbelief; Unkmarog, the drunk orc, training hard.

    On the fifth day, when returned back to the city from his training session, he headed to Silver-Blood Inn for a drink. Before reaching his destination, someone was trying to catch the orc's attention by pulling his pants gently. It was the same little girl whom he saw on the day they arrived in Markath.
    "Oh. It's you again, little brat," Unk scoffed while sweat was running down his face. "What do you want this time?"
    Almost in an instant, his sweaty face was covered in fluffy cream and dough. The little girl giggled and ran away after she threw a large pie to the orc's face. Unk stood there a for a long while, slowly wiping off the cream of his face. His rage started to build up.
    A guard noticed the orc's tantrum and approached him.
    "Problem?" the guard looked slightly amused, and his right arm rested on the pommel of his sword. Unkmarog ignored the guard's gaze and kept wiping his face.
    "No... No problem at all."
    The orc snarled and finally made it to the inn. He sat down on a chair and put some coins on the counter. His face was still visibly adorned with pieces of the pie and some cream.
    "Ale. Make it double. And don't ask any questions," Unk raised his hand to protest the bartender's curious look on his face.


    Well-Known Member
    Beren carefully watched Alice as she ate and drank. He knew how to care for wounded comrades, and administer last rites, should it come to that, but he was not much of a physician. Besides battlefield dressings, he knew little of how to address physical wounds. It was fortunate then, that Arkay had granted some healing magic. To his eyes, the Imperial looked drained but not any overt physical pain. She stated as much, and mentioned her dreams. "You did speak while you slept,"he confirmed, but no one knew what to make of it." He settled more into the chair. "You've been resting for about a week. Five days in all. I wasn't sure you were going to wake. About your dreams..." He cast a glance towards the doorway to the other room, ensuring his fellow priest hadn't returned. "Are you sure you want to speak of them here? If you feel they are important, it may be best for Solun, at least, to hear about them."


    An Excellent Site Member
    Alice frowed with tired emberrassment when Beren told her she'd been talking in her sleep and that no one could really undersatand her. Ever since she'd started having visions at twelve she'd been a regular sleep talker and it was always something she'd been emberrassed about. Half time time it was whatever she was Seeing, some of the time it was what she was dreaming and the rest of the time it was babbling nonsense. Every now and again she could wake herself up from it and recall a little of what she'd said but most of the time someone else had to do it. It was basically a worse version of snoring. Which she'd also been known to do. Which means Beren and the villagers who helped him take care of her had gottena treasure trove of gossip.

    "I am so sorry about that." Alice said. "I...say some wierd stuff while I'm asleep. And I'm sure it was in surred Cyrodillic. Got me no end of teasing from my siblings growing up or concern from our parents. Thank Mother Mara I married a man who snores like a rock quarry." She rubbed the bandages over her black left eye to massage it a little and sat up to put her empty plate and cup down on the nightstand. As soon as she roated her torso pain shot through her ribs and she couldn't help but grit her teeth in pain. She flopped back down on her pillows, closed her eyes and breathed heavily, willing the pain to go away. Fortunately she didn't cry out but a tear did escape her open right eye and the bandage over her left became more moist. She bit her lower lip after a few more breaths and continued. "Solun....Please, get Solun. Danger....need to warn him." She stabalized herself for a moment and wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm...I'm in a lot of pain. And I'm really worried about what I said and what's been happening. Go get Solun but please hurry back. I...don't want to be alone right now. I need to send a scroll to my husband. He needs to know about this. Please hurry." Before he left Alice remembered something else she felt was important and had a moment of panic for it. “Also! Um…do you think we could move me to the Temple of Dibella? I’d feel more comfortable under the care of the Sisters there. I want you too of course but I’ve never been comfortable in a Temple of Arkay while I’m…still alive.

    Never mind. It’s stupid. Just…forget I said anything. I’ll deal.”
    What was wrong with her? She’d done nothing wrong and her request was completely reasonable. She wasn’t okay. After what she’d been through she might never be again.
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