Snap.

"Hello?" Arthus stopped, looking towards the direction of the loud noise that seemingly echoed through the entire mountains. His heartbeat slightly increased; what if this was one of the patrols of the besiegers? Or a bandit group? In either case, things didn't look good for them, but he prayed to every deity he could think of that it was the first option. If this was a bandit party, and a large one, things wouldn't go well, most likely. A patrol was different business, though - hopefully they could negotiate their way out of that, unless someone did something stupid.

Ready for worst, the mage stopped drying his back, and instead grabbed his left hand by the wrist. A small fire could be seen through the fingers, dancing in his palm; it wasn't the small fireball Arthus used to melt his way out of snow or dry his back. This fire seemed more focused, and it was definately far more dangerous. In a place like this, where there could be soldiers, bandits and other hostiles lurking about, looking for a traveller to rob, large spells would put them all in far too much danger - something that Arthus realized perfectly, and instead decided to go with a smaller spell. It would be more difficult to hit with, but certainly no less deadly than an ordinary fireball if it did.

"Come out if you mean no harm!" Perhaps that shout came off as too optimistical given the times, naive even, but it was far better to give whoever this was an option; at least in Arthus' mind.

Fedave had been listening to the group talk, yet he did not speak himself. He did not know what to think about this rag tag group. He had examined the man who had appeared wearing the ebony armor, and hoped he would not have to fight this man. For all he knew, he might have to fight all of these people at some point. For that matter, there seemed to be quite a few people heading to Bruma. Fedave wondered if they were after the same lead. He was going to have to say something about the stone soon. Just not directly.

Then something snapped. He immediately went for his bow, and knocked an arrow. As the mage yelled out, "Come out if you mean no harm!", Fedave aimed in the general direction the sound came from. He was ready for whatever might come. He was sure he had been in tighter spots no matter what it was.

The snapping behind them seemed to irk the strange Imperial who was following Areth and he quickly followed suit by pirouetting around and twirling his spear so it rested in his right hand, blade forward. His legs spread to about shoulder width, staggered by about a foot, his right farther back than his left. A look of fear and excitement gleaming from his eyes, he had never truly been in battle. He spent his whole youth training, sparring, preparing for combat. He had fought the beasts of Skyrim before, but they posed little threat in the long run and were nothing like engaging in combat with a real person, something which his father pounded into him from the first day he picked up a staff. But he was ready, he wondered what it would be like, what kind of opponent he would face, how it would end. A world of possibilities flared up before him and he opened his mind, letting them all through, accepting each possibility for what it was.

But then he remembered how he couldn't let a bandit get ahold of the Aedra Tear, or harm his sister for that matter; those two things were the only things in the world that mattered to him. A feeling of disappointment at himself flowed through him, he had lost all conscious thought at the possibility of fighting for the first time. Was this what it was to be a warrior, a feeling of disattachment, abandonment to everything that mattered to you in the face of combat; it couldn't be. His father taught him to let your feelings drive your spear in combat, to let all the heart and soul of those who you were protecting guide it's point. But at that he hadn't truly engaged in combat yet, he only felt the potential for what could happen and he hoped he never felt it again.

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

Len' fell behind her brother who quickly got into a fighting stance, ready to strike. She drew her dagger and yelled out in the direction of the snapping "hey, whoever you are, we've got all sorts of sharp things, so I wouldn't dare attack us if I were you." She then shut her mouth, what if they were slavers or someone looking for pretty young girls to do things i'd never imagine she thought to herself. She knew though that Areth would never let anyone harm her, his spear would find their heart before they even got a glimpse of her. She then whispered in her brother's ear "don't worry, I know you can handle this, you're the greatest warrior I've ever known."

She took several steps back and watched the whole ordeal from a safe distance, my how she hoped it was nothing more than an animal behind them.

"damn it all." Laru said to himself, as almost at once the entire group seemed to hone in on his general location, weapons drawn and magick ready to be let lose. And it was all aimed at him. He knew that he had a strong chance of escaping them if they attacked him. And if the mage had bad aim, and the man in ebony armour didnt engage him in combat while letting his mage and archer friend hit him with arrows and fireballs. There where to many what-if situations. If he had more Knights of the Circle with him, they could possibly be evenly matched. But he didnt and the what-if game had no outcome at all, other than as a way to pass the time thinking about past events when not in imediate danger.

"Come out if you mean no harm!"
It was the voice of the mage, a fire spell aimed almost directly at him. if the circumstances where right, he could light the entire portion of woods on fire, disrupting Arkay's cycle of life by murdering countless woodland creatures. almost immediatly after the mage spoke, a female voice rang out.

"hey, whoever you are, we've got all sorts of sharp things, so I wouldn't dare attack us if I were you."

Both of them sounded naive and as if they had never been in this kind of situation. . As if a thing that did mean harm to them would stay in the woods, it would leap out at them and being a battle. But Laru meant no harm to them, and responded accordingly.

With exageratted slowness he raised his arms into the air, quick movments would possibly cause unwelcome circumstances. Again, he slowly walked towards the group.

"I'm coming out!"

He shouted as he neared the edges of the tree line and approached the group, stoping several yards away, out of reach of the nords spear, and he could possibly dive aside if the mage let his fireball at him. He removed his hlemet, and placed it on the ground, revealing his face. He knew that when you could see a face instead of a metal one, people would notciably be less intimidated. And he didnt want anyone to be intimidated now that he saw the whole size of the group.

Arthus raised an eyebrow as the Nord emerged.

What is it with those people and travelling in armor? Do they want to prove something, or are they just paranoid? Or just too lazy to dodge... He would've shook his head, if that wouldn't have had the risk of putting his flame out. I guess it's some sort of a warrior thing. Like living in mushrooms is a Telvanni thing... Don't try to understand it if you're not one of them... Maybe they see me travelling in clothes as something odd. I doubt I'll ever understand. Although I doubt it's universal, as my Nord friend here seems to be as much a warrior as the two of them, and yet he doesn't have any armor... Though I doubt it'd be comfortable to carry all that armor about, so maybe it's not that hard to understand... Although if I was a warrior, I'd just get a horse and a couple large bags. They probably make enough money for that off of... whatever they do... What is it that warriors do for a living anyway? Fight in wars? But what if there are no wars?

Blinking, Arthus lowered his hand, but didn't let go of the wrist, neither did he put the fire out. It wasn't beyond the mage to realize the heavily armored Nord may just be trying to wiggle his way out of a tight situation... Maybe he's one of those hired killer sorts. Doesn't look like it, but I guess not looking like one is a part of their job. I mean, it's not like I know what any of the people here did... That Imperial definately seems important enough to have assassins after him, at least if we judge by wealth, which you'd need a lot of to get that armor. The fact the man didn't run away seemed to suggest against the 'wiggle out' option, but if Arthus' thoughts about assassins and such were correct, it'd make a degree of sense. When travelling with a group of strangers that seemed to have appeared so conveniently in the middle of nowhere at the same time... almost as if it was fate guiding them all, Arthus included, one could never be sure of anything. Although he could, at least, claim to be the first one there, what with sitting in that snow before anyone else showed up.

As his thread of thought continued spinning, he made the decission to let others handle speaking; after all, he wasn't the best speaker, what with half of the stuff he said comming down either as ramblings or simple conversations. There was a bit of Imperial in him, and he could speak diplomatically at times, but he preffered not to. That side of him didn't seem all that... him.

As the Nord emerged and took off his helm, Fedave lowered his bow. Too many people were getting involved with this party, and in his experience, a lot of people was not a good thing unless you knew they were one your side. Here, he knew that any of these people could stab him in the back as soon as he turned. Still, that was how a lot of stuff had gone in his line of work. He had to expect for anything to happen.

Like now, another man in armor popped up out of nowhere. This mission went from having a few potential leads to being extremely dangerous very fast. Fedave still had his bow lowered, but he would be able to pop an arrow into the man's face if he had to. He did not care if these people around him died, but he wasn't about to let anything happen to himself. He tensed up as he said, "What is your name and your business?"

He knew this guy would probably lie. Most people did when encountered by a good sized group of people with weapons. Fedave knew he would have to lie a good bit because no one would help if they knew the truth. He awaited the Nord's answer.

Areth loosened his stance slightly as the newcomer removed his helm, though he still remained ready to strike at a moments notice. "Who now" he growled through gritted teeth, his hands still tightly gripping the shaft of the ancestral weapon. "Why were you following us and more importantly why so heavily armored, you look as if your prepared for battle, yet you travel alone" Areth didn't trust strangers, let alone ones who looked ready, if not willing, to commit acts of violence. "You could have just approached us, yet you snuck around in the shadows stalking me and my... travel companions. What is your business with us!?" Yelled Areth so as to affirm his point as well as his distrust toward this armored man, though he barely trusted the others who surrounded him at the same time so it was pretty much a moot point.

Laru waited tensely for someone to speak, the few seconds of silience seemed to last for hours, untill the Dunmer with the bow spoke, and allthough his bow was lowered, Laru could easily read the Dunmers body language like a open book, and it told him this man would easily snap into action, firing that arrow at his face.

"What is your name and your business?" The Dunmer shot at him, and before Laru could even open his mouth, the younger nord spoke almost immediatly afterward.

"Why were you following us and more importantly why so heavily armored, you look as if your prepared for battle, yet you travel alone. You could have just approached us, yet you snuck around in the shadows stalking me and my... travel companions. What is your business with us!?" Yelled the Nord.

Inwardly, Laru sighed. His day had gone from bad to worst, first losing the tracks of the Necromancer and now this encounter was going to hold up his frantic chase to regain lost time. And they all looked as if they where wound up tighter than a crossbow.

If I tell them I am hunting a Necromancer, they may actually try to inform him and I would lose the trail for good. he thought to himself weighing the pros and cons of this situation. If he told them, he would most likely not be attacked by them, and he would quickly be on his way. or, they would attack him, and warn Anaril that the Knights of the circle where hunting him, and the Order of Arkay would have a necromancer slip through their hands.

"Firstly, you assume I intend to attack a vastly larger group where there is no chance without the blessing of the nines that I would triumph over you. That is a incorrect, though prudent assumption, considering these times. Secondly, yelling and aiming weapons at a person with no violent intentions will not yeild satsfying results, yet I will comply with your request."

He paused momentarily, considering wether or not to tell them why he was in the area, before deciding to continue.

"I have no business with you, unless you have information concering the whereabouts of a abnormally short Altmer wearing black robes with red insignia, with a missing left eye, black hair and going by the name of Taelo. His real name is Anaril mamarco, and it is a necromancer, and as a necromancer, I intend to hunt it down and slay it. I am Master Luthor Laru franz of the Order of Arkay, and one of the commanders of the Knights of the Cricle"

He paused to let it sink in, before he spoke once more.

"Now that unless you have more questions, speak them and then I will ask several of you and your companions"
,
he finished, staring into the eyes of the Dunmer. He natrually disliked them with their summoning and communing with the spirits of the dead, disturbing their rest. Yet the only reason the order of Arkay had not launched a crusade to eradicate them was that this was a form of religous worship they did. But this Dunmer, something about him just made Laru feel even more hateful than the usual dislike.

Ba'Gannan watched with bemused curiosity as the group around him grew more tense and volatile, Shouting at a bush containing a heavily armoured Nord. Why he was in there, Ba'Gannan did not know, Nor did he really care. He wasn't privy to information on the strange curiosities of the race of Men from Skyrim or Cyrodil and he didn't much care. They where all strange.

When the gold plated warrior emerged however he felt strangely light hearted, he wore the same plate as a lost friend from Morrowind. A Nord of good virtues who helped him track down slavers and put them to their end. That was probably the reason he was compelled to beat the Dunmer in the back of the head with a dead mountain lion as he notched an arrow into his bow. The imperial mage he'd leave alone, he just wanted an excuse to hit the Dunmer.

"Firstly, you assume I intend to attack a vastly larger group where there is no chance without the blessing of the nines that I would triumph over you. That is a incorrect, though prudent assumption, considering these times. Secondly, yelling and aiming weapons at a person with no violent intentions will not yield satisfying results, yet I will comply with your request."

Ba'Gannan smiled as he tried to ease the paranoia of the group, he had found their reaction to rustling bushes questionable at best. None of them seemed to question the fact that many people had converged in one spot, armed or dangerous, almost as if fate had prompted the meeting.

Ba'Gannan was a big believer in fate, if they truly where destined to meet he would see it through for curiosities sake, he wouldn't raise arms to possible allies. Although he was a big believe in fate, he did so enjoy trying his best to bend the course of his path.

"I have no business with you, unless you have information concerning the whereabouts of a abnormally short Altmer wearing black robes with red insignia, with a missing left eye, black hair and going by the name of Taelo. His real name is Anaril mamarco, and it is a necromancer, and as a necromancer, I intend to hunt it down and slay it. I am Master Luthor Laru Franz of the Order of Arkay, and one of the commanders of the Knights of the Circle"


At this he began openly laughing at the Nord, he didn't mean to be rude but he found the thought of trying to track an enamoured there fore lighter traveller through the wilderness in a full set of Dwavern plate hilarious. Sure it would make great protection in a fight but it's no good if your on a deadline to track the beast down. Or in this case, Necromancer.

"You would track your prey in a full suit of shiny gold metal?" He called over, trying his best to quell his laughter so he might speak freely. "That is folly, I'm sure you're a great warrior and all, but you should consider taking some hunting lessons. I could have that Necromancer in your custody within a few hours time, mage or warrior, you all lose when in nature, this is the territory of the hunter. This is where we claim victory."

He was seriously considering offering his services and teaching him a little something about tracking, purely for the light amusemant to be gained from it. Though he doubted that the Nord would accept. He seemed like a man of pride.

Laru laughed with the Argonion when he mentioned his armour and began to laugh at him. Smiling, he looked at the Argonion.

"Yes, I would track my prey in a suit of shiny gold armour, so that when I have found it, I can kill it without being killed in the process. Now you on the other hand, may not have made mistakes like I have made and proably have found him, but would you knowingly fight a necromancer that can conjur creatures from Oblivion, cast destructive spells at you, while fighting off its hired thugs or resurected servants without any armour?"

With that he waited for the Argonian's response, or if their conversation continued, their words could soon turn into a game of pary and thrusts, counterthrusts and counters or even just end when the young Nord responded to his answer.

OOC: bleh post :thumbsdown:

Areth lowered his spear and stood back up strait, pushing a stray hair from his face which had been badgering him throughout the whole tenseness of the encounter. "Well seems you're not a threat, one gets paranoid when the whole world is bearing... " He stopped mid-sentence, almost inadvertently revealing the secret which lay only a few inches from his head. Areth had to be careful, one couldn't be too trustworthy among strangers, although he had a strange trust already building up toward the Argonian, if out of nothing else but curiosity.

"What I was trying to say was..." He stopped cold as his sister's voice rose out from behind him.

"What he was trying to say was that we'd be willing to help you in your search" she smiled and walked toward him leisurely. "We'd be willing to help you in your search if you could guarantee us safe passage to Bruma. From what I've heard it's besieged and the Order of Arkay sounds like it has quite a lot of influence." She stuck out her hand in a lanky attempt at a handshake.

As this was going on Areth's cheeks had become somewhat flushed, what with his sister acting like a diplomat and trying to make deals which could only land them in more trouble in the long run. But he chose to remain silent, he had already opened his mouth too wide once and nearly compromised the safety of himself and his sister as well as the integrity of their quest.

"I know I would." Arthus interjected at the armored Nord's comment, before falling silent again and letting others speak. Necromancers... Necromancers. Hm, who are they anyway? One tends to forget a lot of common knowledge when wandering about in the mountains... I definately have heard of them somewhere. Dunmer, Temple, Sermons, father, grandfather... Wait yes, grandfather. And the Temple. And Dunmer in general. They all hate necromancers because... Because they raise the dead! Right. There was an entire lesson about the diference between what the Temple does and nercomancy. Temple... raises spirits of our ancestors to guard over their children, or something of the sort. Necromancers just... raise a lot of things without their own consent. So essentially the 'bad people' everyone seems to like going on about.

IF there are 'bad people' in Tamriel anyway. I mean half the necromancers may be decent fellows, only that the other half seem to represent them better according the the authorities... And in general raising the dead doesn't give pleasant emotions, so it makes the job of making necromancers appear all evil and heartless a lot easier.

As Arthus attempted to snap himself out of his considerations, a habit from Skyrim when he'd be alone for hours and could allow himself the luxury of thinking about things for hours, he noticed that the unarmored Nord, Areth, wasn't it?, seemed rather uncomfortable around the entire group, to the point he couldn't even put together a sentence without worrying. Can't blame him, we're all total strangers. I mean, I doubt any of them remember my name now, and I introduced several minutes ago, tops. I barely remember their names... The Nordess is Len, right... Areth's her brother, the unarmored Nord... The Dunmer was... Fe... Fedave, right? And the Argonian's Lives-in-Risk, or something along the lines. And the Imperial... Hasn't yet even spoken since joining us. Weird chap.

Wonder what's going on in their heads now... Not to be intrusive or anything, but half of them seem to be hiding something. Areth's all tight-lipped; probaly just worried about his sister, she's completely not so. Fedave... Another close-mouthed fellow. But Dunmer tend to be like that. Lives-in-Risk, on the other hand, doesn't seem like he has anything to hide. I guess I'm a bit weird to them too. You don't commonly meet such merry people on the way to Bruma, during a war no less... But at least I speak, unlike our other Imperial friend there. I'd say he's the weirdest of all, what with the armor and such.

Thengil turned his head when he heard the snapping of a branch somewhere behind the group. Everyone seemed to get very tense, readying their weapons and magick, but he remained calm, despite the fact that someone was sneaking up on them. The person who had made the noise turned out to be a Nord in dwemer armour. That armour... Could it be? No, Orion drowned in the Abecean sea when the islands sunk. The Nord said something about being part of some order to Arkay, and that he was chasing a necromancer. Strange. Hunting necromancers up here, with dwemer armour no less. He'd stick out like a sore thumb. One could spot that golden plating from miles away. The Argonian's got this one right, it is folly.

"Altmer in black robes, you say? And a necromancer no less? No, I haven't seen any Altmer necromancers lately. Last one I met claimed to be Mannimarco, but he certainly didn't look the part, nor could he even use magick. Must have been mad." he spoke upon the mention of the Altmer whom the Nord was chasing. Many years ago he met an upstart necromancer who said he was the King of Worms himself, but the fool could barely even cast a spell or raise even a frail skeleton. The very thought of him being Mannimarco was laughable.

As for the rest of the group, he wasn't sure if he could trust them. There was something strange with the spear-wielding Nord, almost ethereal, but Thengil dismissed it. Must be his mind playing tricks on him. The Argonian, Lives-in-Risk or something, looked like he had just slain a beast with his bare hands. Rest of them... He didn't know, really, but the spear-wielder certainly acted like he was hiding something. For now he dismissed it though. In times like these everyone he met seemed like they had something to hide from the public eye. Is it possible that he's the current holder of... No. No, no no. Silly me, he's got the look of a farmer, and he hasn't gone mad. Certainly someone with more power must have it. Not like I care though, I've had enough of objects that affect the mind and soul.

"So, shouldn't we get moving? We'll never reach Bruma if we're standing here like a bunch of fools."

Fedave put the bow and arrow away, as it seemed that this man was telling the truth. Not many could make up the tale he told. When that Len girl offered help, Fedave said, "Yeah, I'd help ya. Necromancers are garbage, and it's an art that a few of those scumbag Telvanni seem to treasure." As those last words came out of his mouth, Fedave realized he had slipped. Yet, he could use this to his advantage. He gave a true opinion, but that might say something about his business. He should be able to talk his way out of anything anyone came up with.

Besides, having this Nord on their side surely meant they could make their way into the city. The Order of Arkay should have a bit of leverage with the situations. They had a god on their side. Sure Fedave had a little more faith in the Daedric Princes, but he still trusted the Gods. Faith was one of the few things that kept Fedave sane. It let him know he might have something to do after he got killed by whatever was going to get him. Still, he knew now was not the time to think about this.

As the Imperial said, "So, shouldn't we get moving? We'll never reach Bruma if we're standing here like a bunch of fools," Fedave began to agree. He said, "I think we should move along too. I know of a few bandits who could pull together bands large enough to probably take us. That, and we still have to find a way into Bruma."

Name: Sryner Varius
six: Male
Race: Imperial
Age: 29
Birthsign: The Warrior

Character Focus: Combat
Skills and Abilities: Blade, Block, Heavy Armor
Powers, Magick and Otherwise: Weak restoration magic
Class: Legionnaire

General Physical Appearance: A tall, rather built man. He had broad shoulders that always pose a tall posture.
Facial Appearance: He is a charming, handsome gentelman. He has soft blue eyes that center a face he likes to think isn't that hard to look at.
Hair: Medium length, wavy brown hair that falls just above his shoulders.
Eyes: Blue
Weight: 210 lbs
Height: 6'1"
Tatoos/Scars+Any Other Distinguishing Features: None

Weapon/s: He has three swords. One being the standard issue steel longsword of the Legion, the second being a silver longsword, and the third being a useless ceremonial ebony longsword that once belonged to his father.
Clothing/Armor: Sryner Varius, no longer a part of the legion, wears a few pieces of armor that he was able to keep. He has pauldrons, gauntlets, and a few pieces to cover the legs. The rest of his body is covered in a similar styled steel armor.
[b]Inventory: Weapons and armor, a torch, assortment of food, a water flask.

Psyche: Sryner is a loyal soldier who retired at the start of his career. He now questions his loyalties and whether or not he fought for a righteous cause.

Short Bio: Sryner was born into a military family in Cyrodiil. His father was a high-ranking officer who was gifted with the service of his own son. After fighting to defend the Imperial City from the Daedric Invasion, Sryner gained a reputation. His father died in the upcoming battles for the Aedra's Tear, and his ebony longsword was given to his son. After all the chaos that preceeded the Daedric Invasion, Sryner refused to keep his loyalty to an Imperial Legion that was controlled by a corrupt puppet master. He retired just as soon as his military career was getting off the ground. He works now as a mercenary, whose loyalty only resides in the amount of money he's promised.

((falcon is going to mention my character in his next post, where I will then make my first IC post.))

Qualo shivered against the cold as he rapped on Lucius's door. I'm going to leave Bruma... soon.

The heavy, carved door creaked open and the ex-serviceman appeared in the doorframe.

"Qualo? What is it?"

He took a deep breath. "I'm going to find a way out of Bruma."

Lucius looked at him sceptically. "You? For a start, how are you going to get out? There's a bloody army outside. You'd need some serious influence to get out of this town right now. Besides, who's going to go with you? I can't, Qualo. My travelling days are over. If you go out there by yourself, you'd get killed or have all your stuff stolen before you could click your fingers..." Lucius's expression changed. "You really do just wanna get out of here, don't you." He sighed.

"I've still got money left. I could hire someone out."

"Yes, but who..." Qualo could see the idea flash across his face. "I know someone. He can wield a sword better than most, and unlike you, he's actually got a head on his shoulders. Did the same as me and quit the Legion when all this nonsense started. You'll need gold to get him, but... well, that's not a problem for you."

"Well, who is he then?" Qualo's mind raced. All I need to do now is figure out a way of getting out of here, and after that... It occurred to him at this point that he hadn't really thought of what he was going to do once he was outside of Bruma, but his train of thought was cut off by Lucius speaking.

"Sryner Varius. Has a room hired out for himself at the Jerall View. Go there and ask for Sryner. I knew him, he's a good man. You leaving straight away?"

"Well, once I figure out a way of getting out of here somehow," Qualo replied.

"Visit me some time, if you're nearby." Lucius seemed a little downhearted that he was leaving, but after a moment covered it up. "Guess I'll see you before you go. Don't do anything too stupid."

Qualo nodded, and once Lucius had closed the door to his house once more, made his way through the streets towards the inn. So, what am I going to do once I get out of here? Find a place where this war isn't having as big an effect as here, really. Is there a place like that, though? People say the whole of Tamriel is involved in this war... He made his way up some steps leading to a higher level of the town, taking care not to slip on the ice that covered the stone. For now, I need to worry about how we get out of here. The only people who can get in or out are those who serve the Nine, and the Countess has had to hire mercenaries to keep a good level of men, I've heard they smuggle groups of them out of the city to sabotage the supplies of that army outside... I'd have to leave all my weapons and armour behind to pass as a priest though, and two guys can hardly pass for a group of mercenaries... He turned a corner to see the Jerall View at the end of the street. True to its name, it had a breathtaking view of the Jerall range. My best chance is to try and find a group of people... fairly large, with weapons... and see if I can join them, and pass as a mercenary. Do I really need to hire this guy, in that case... yeah. Just so they're put off from trying anything with me. Where am I going to find a group like that... [OOC: I wonder. ]

He pushed open the door to the Jerall View. The innkeeper looked at him sullenly, with a hint of suspicion; he obviously knew who Qualo was, and like most of Bruma, was suspicious of the circumstances of his arrival. Qualo addressed him as politely as he could.

"Can I see Sryner, please?"

"Basemant. Second door on the left," he shot back.

"Thanks."

Qualo felt the innkeeper's eyes boring into his back as he walked off and opened the door to the basemant level. He made his way down the steps, found the door to Sryner's room and rapped on it twice.

"Oh, don't be so hard on the Telvanni. I seriously doubt they'd go so far as to try necromancy. I mean they're pretty weird with those mushroom towers, but the credible part ends when we start presuming all the guards are vampires." Arthus gave Fedave a hard pat on the back, stronger than one could've expected from a mage. Even though he still had his suspicions in regards to the heavily armed and armored Nord, the mage had given up on his fire, seeing as he wasn't one to go looking for a fight. "I do remember some things about Divayth creating daughters and such, but necromancy's raising the dead and not creating people... Besides, this is Cyrodiil, we leave housial prejudices back in Morrowind. I may dislike the Dres, but you don't see me foaming at the mouth about those rumors that their council is all vampires and what not. I don't buy it anyway, I mean there's bound to be at least some ordinary Dunmer there... Unless the Viceroy was hellbent on not losing his position to succession."

Arthus stopped for a moment to wonder exactly how weird did that sound. An Imperial mentioning three rumors from Morrowind out of the blue and then reffering to the head of House Dres by the title rather than 'House Head' like was common amongst 'outlanders'. Must've come of as pretty weird. But then I'm having a hard time taking in the 'human' part about myself... I wonder if the Cyrodiil part of my journey will be more 'discovery' than 'journey'. Where was it mom said our family hailed from initially? Niben Bay or some such... He laughed inside, before barely avoiding drifting off into his considerations again. Fortunately, Arthus managed to catch himself before he descended into thoughts as to where the Niben Bay was located and how would he get there.

"So, we're going to get some necromancer, who may or may not be in Bruma? Sounds... well, not exactly good, but not that bad either. Not like I have anything better to do, personally, might as well help to knock a threat out... As if the war ain't enough for the commoners."

The swordsman's eyes shot open. Suddenly, without a second's peace, his head rang and his body tensed up in soreness. Sryner had been enjoying his time with the Nords of Bruma, and with each night he sacrificed the next morning. He had only been in Bruma for a few weeks, but already his liver probably faded blacker, as he had aquired quite a love for strong, sweet mead. Sryner brought his hands up to his eyes slowly, running his weary eyes until he could see straight, and began to slick his hair back with his fingers. As the swordsman began to stretch, he heard another knock at the door. Someone had woken him up.

"Hold on," Sryner shouted beyond the door, uncovering himself. "I'll be right there."

Sryner had fallen asleep nvde. Talos knows what had happened, as he didn't remember much beyond his nineth flask. Looking around, he saw a worn out pair of trousers and brought them up his legs, taking his fur coat and slinging it around his shoulders. He brushed his hair out of his eyes, and head toward the door. Opening it, he saw his visitor. Like most people who knocked on his door at the early times of the day, he didn't look like much a warrior. If he here, he'd probably have no use for a retired Legionnaire mercenary. If he could use a blade, he'd likely have no use for Sryner Varius' services. Unless he was ill informed. Maybe this one was another who heard of a mighty soldier who performed tasks for money, and they somehow received the image of 'assassin' in their mind. He was tired and hung over. He'd likely lose his tempet if this visitor was one of those ignorant fools.

"Hello," He said, motioning his visitor to enter his room as he made his way to poor a cup of greef. "Can I offer you a drink?"

Sryner tilted his bottle of greef to his visitor. He brought his cup to his lips, taking two gulps of the strong liquor to quench the dryness of his mouth. Looking around the room, he spoke again to his visitor.

"What is your name, sir? I take it you come here for a reason. Perhaps there is a job to be done?"

Qualo waited a second, then heard a shout from within.

"Hold on! I'll be right there."

He glanced down the corridor briefly as he heard a few stirrings from within the room, and then it was pulled open. In the doorframe stood a tall, well-built Imperial, wearing the look of someone who'd had an enjoyable evening but was now having a less enjoyable morning. This must be Sryner.

"Hello," he said, motioning for Qualo to enter as he walked over to a bottle of some sort of liquor which lay on the table. After a moment, Qualo walked into the room as Sryner poured himself out a cup of the liquor. "Can I offer you a drink?" he asked, tilting the bottle.

"Uh.. why not?" replied Qualo. He'd never drunk great amounts of alcohol so far as he could remember, but it couldn't do any harm.

Sryner took two deep gulps as he looked around at the dark-haired Imperial. "What is your name, sir? I take it you come here for a reason. Perhaps there is a job to be done?"

"You are Sryner, yes?" asked Qualo. He felt a little nervous talking to someone he didn't know, and sat down on a plain wooden chair before he started speaking. "I'm Qualo Varellus. I know Lucius Culexus, the retired Legionnaire, and he recommended you to me. And I have come here for, uh, a reason. You might have heard of my... uh... odd arrival in Bruma. Basically, they found me on the roof of the castle, with no memory of anything that happened prior to me landing on the castle roof... now, as such, I've never really... fought properly. And so I want to leave Bruma, because apparently they're going to start conscripting residents to try and stop the siege." Qualo blinked. "You're probably wondering how we're going to get out exactly... I have a plan, but it'll require that we wait around for a while. We'll need a bit of luck too, to wait for the right people to come along. But anyway, judging by your look, you've been, uh, enjoying the Nord hospitality..." He smiled awkwardly. "So I don't think you'll be too upset."

"Anyway, to the real matter of why I'm here. I get... uh, tricked easily. Lucius says I'm too trusting. And I want to travel to somewhere where, at least, they're not conscripting people. So he said you'd be useful in, uh, telling me if someone's trying to trick me. And he said you can fight, and while I'm OK with a blade, it's always good to have someone else who can fight, yes? So it'd be good if you could, well, come with me." It occurred to Qualo at this point just how hare-brained this whole thing was.

"I... understand this is all a bit, uh, aimless. And if you say no that's fine. But... I do pay well. So if you just say how much you'd want, if you are willing to come along, and I'll see what I can do?"

OOC: crappiest post I've ever made, I'm going to redo this tomorrow now that I have actually thought about how bad this is. :banghead:

Sryner's eyes lit up and he shot a smile to his visitor as he awkwardly accepted the drink. The imperial at his doorstep was rather young, but he spoke in a mature way. It probably wasn't Sryner's place giving him alcohol at noon, but he didn't really care. Besides, he'd soon learn that there wasn't really anyone in Bruma that would spite him for it, Qualo was here by himself. He had heard of a younger fellow who was passed out atop Castle Bruma through the passing word at the inn, but he didn't delve deep into rumors. Gossip would get you places, and sometimes those places weren't the kind of places you'd want to go on a regular basis.

He took a cup, leaned up against the wall near the table where his guest now sat, and poured a small cup, handind it to the young visitor while leaning back against the wall.

"You are Sryner, yes?" The visitor said.

"That is I. Sryner Varius, sword for hire, at your expended service." Sryner said, grinning a bit as he mentioned the expenses.

"I'm Qualo Varellus. I know Lucius Culexus, the retired Legionnaire, and he recommended you to me."

"Ah, Culexus. The Cap'n is a good man, hell of a fighter. I didn't know he was in town. Been years since I've seen him. These days, you have to keep yourself in pleasant company as often as possible. Most people, they'll rip your heart out if you trust them enough." Sryner spoke with a ragged voice, speaking of the chaos of the time. He hated it.

Qualo Varellus then began to talk business. It was obvious he was young. He stuttered every other word. Sryner figured he scared the poor kid when he opened the door hung over, bare chested, and offered him a drink before sputtering his rambling wisdom of the living hell they were in. Nevertheless, Qualo got his point across through broken sentences. He needed a guide who was both smart and tactical, and a guard who was both skilled and silent. Sryner, for the right price, could fit both roles.

"So you need a bodyguard, eh? Not the most exciting gig I've had, but I'd be happy to help. I've been looking to get out of this city for a short while now. The drinks are strong, but between you and me, the female company is a bit too... strong for my liking. Nords, huh? Barbarians."

Sryner filled his cup again, taking one drink before pushing off the wall and joining Qualo at the table. He pulled a seat out, sat down, and leaned over the table, resting his head on one of his hands.

"You don't have to worry about people trying to trick you. You're young, don't spew confidence in a time when you must. That makes you a target... hell, I'd deceive you into my liking if we met under different circumstances. But you're with me, now. People know me, they won't try anything funny if my steps trail yours. As for payment..." Sryner leaned back, cocking his head back. "Getting out of Bruma is no easy task. I haven't tried it yet, but I don't imagine it being too easy. I'll charge 500 septims to get you out of this city, and an additional 50 every day you need me to travel with you. Depending on where we end up, that may be it. But if we're in some backwater community you find yourself comfortable in, you can bet you're renting me a horse and buying some food for me to get to the nearest city."

Sryner twirled his cup around, bringing it to his lips and downing the liquid. It burned down his throat, and he felt it find home in his stomach. This hour, it didn't exactly agree with him. Taking a moment, he collected himself and looked back to Qualo.

"So... your plan?"

Qualo took a sip from the small cup, carefully, as Sryner spoke about Lucius. It was strong, and tasted unlike the mead he'd had previously, but he swallowed the sip he'd taken nonetheless. Oh, it's greef... I wonder why I remember the taste. I never even heard of it before now. He went back to listening to Sryner, who mentioned how, as he put it, "most people, they'll rip your heart out if you trust them enough." I'm told that every day. I just need to learn it, dammit.

After Qualo had explained his situation, Sryner spoke again.

"So you need a bodyguard, eh? Not the most exciting gig I've had, but I'd be happy to help. I've been looking to get out of this city for a short while now. The drinks are strong, but between you and me, the female company is a bit too... strong for my liking. Nords, huh? Barbarians."

Qualo smiled awkwardly again. Female company... oh, THAT. The tall Imperial poured himself another cup of greef, took a gulp, and pushed off the wall before sitting on the chair opposite to Qualo, leaning over the table towards him.

"You don't have to worry about people trying to trick you. You're young, don't spew confidence in a time when you must. That makes you a target... hell, I'd deceive you into my liking if we met under different circumstances. But you're with me, now. People know me, they won't try anything funny if my steps trail yours. As for payment..."

Qualo had decided that Sryner seemed an honest man. He admitted that, if he'd just met me on the street, he'd have tried to deceive me like most people do. That counts for something. I'll see what he proposes. He leaned back in his chair, and Qualo listened intently.

"Getting out of Bruma is no easy task. I haven't tried it yet, but I don't imagine it being too easy. I'll charge 500 septims to get you out of this city, and an additional 50 every day you need me to travel with you. Depending on where we end up, that may be it. But if we're in some backwater community you find yourself comfortable in, you can bet you're renting me a horse and buying some food for me to get to the nearest city."

"Deal," said Qualo. It seemed a fair enough price, at least to him. "Uh, I won't be hiring you immediately, as I mentioned earlier... I'll pay you the first 500 when we're out of Bruma. From then on I'll be happy to do the 50-per-day thing." Qualo quickly worked out he would have enough money to hire him for over a month. Plenty of time.

Sryner drained his cup of greef. Qualo noticed a brief look of discomfort cross his face. He guessed that, after the heavy night he'd had previously, the liquor wasn't exactly agreeing with him. He spoke. "So... your plan?"

The younger Imperial took another small sip from his own cup. "Well, this is where it gets a little more complicated. There are two ways to get out of the city without having to resort to fighting our way out, which we obviously can't do, and sneaking our way out, which would logistically be, uh, a nightmare." He wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "The first would involve disguising ourselves as priests of some sort. Even the mad generals agree that Temple workers can get in and out of the city. But, we'd have to leave behind our weapons and armour, and, uh, finding a way of transporting those outside the city walls... could be problematic. As for the second way... you may be aware that the Countess has had to bring in mercenaries to bolster her defensive force. The city watch, they, uh, are willing to sneak those mercenaries out of the city at night, to sabotage the enemy's supplies. So... what we need to do is find a group of mercenaries, or at least people who look like mercenaries, and join up with them. Because - because the mercenaries go out in fairly large groups, just the two of us couldn't pass for a group. From there, we can convince the city guard that we were sent by the Countess, and get out of the city with them. You're there to look out for me; we don't know what kind of people we'll end up having to join up with, and, uh, I already told you about my problems."

Qualo sat back in his chair, but then recalled a conversation he'd heard while walking past the chapel with Lucius earlier that day. A newly-arrived priest had mentioned something just before he'd seen that strange Argonian yelling at the birds. "Oh, and I heard a priest speak about how he passed a group of armed people on the road earlier today. So, uh, there's a good chance we can leave soon." With that, Qualo was satisfied, and waited to hear what his potential companion would have to say.

OOC: Sorry for getting the movement started so quickly, but the situation has been resolved and we need to get moving.

Areth straitened his back and turned around, facing the supposed direction of Bruma. "C'mon let's get on our way" he began a walking pace Len' beside him, hoping everyone else would follow in suit behind the two of them. As they walked along the road the sound of angry shouts began to reach his ears and he saw more plumes of smoke coming from over the top of the line of bare trees and pine. It was a curious sound, no blades clashing, no cries of death, just two distinctive angry roars. One was familiar to him, the battle cry of a Nordic military force. Though the other was more curious, it was deeper, almost abraisive, though just as loud and furious as that of the Nords; it was a sound which Areth had never heard, although it seemed quite angry.

After several minutes of walking, the spires of Bruma's castle pierced the sky, along with dozens of plumes of smoke, likely from the campfires of the invading legions. The sound of the angry shouting grew louder, it rang in Areth's ears as they got even closer. Soon they came into a clearing which afforded a view of Bruma as well as two massive forces facing off against each other at the western edge of the city. One was incredibly distinctive; white and blue flags flew over thousands of Nordic soldiers dressed in furs with commanders adorning distinctive silver armor. The other force seemed foreign to him, he recognized the people, but he had never seen the extent of their supposedly limited military forces. Thousands of Redguards stood in line, the odd armor designs creating the illusion of a single entity, their curved blades waving in the air appeared as teeth in the mouth of a great, hungry, beast.

The two forces stood facing each other as several exquisitely armored men rode on horses shouting orders and egging on the angry cries already being flung from one angered force to the other. Suddenly the forces quieted, the two generals, both men wearing flawless, almost gleaming armor, rode their steeds to the center and it seemed as if they were speaking to one another. The Redguard general seemed furious as he rode off after the apparent conversation, the Nordic commander riding leisurely back to the head of his forces a stark contrast to the demeanor of the Redguard commander. Suddenly the legions of darkly skinned warriors began an all out charge, several units of cavalry swinging around the edge of the Nordic forces.

Areth was so focused on the battle that he almost didn't hear Len' speaking to him and pointing at the unguarded gate. "Brother, look the path is clear" she repeated several times before kicking him in the leg. He got out of his dazed state his head turning to the direction in which her finger pointed. "Look, we must be the luckiest people this side of Mournhold (cough, cough, wink)."

"Almalexia." Arthus corrected automatically, entranced by the sight of the two lines meeting as well. However, he was far from admiring the battle.

The idiots. The damn idiots. Can't they just drop this madness and return to wherever they came from? Neither of them has a more legitimate claim to the city they're fighting for than the people that are currently within its walls, wondering if they'll be butchered upon conquest or not. Of course, they're too mighty to realize that, ooh yes, instead let's just all go crazy and throw ourselves at each other with thousands of soldiers at our backs for no reason whatsoever that could be of such importance so as to warrant a war like this.

As the rest of Areth's words registered, as well as what Len told previously, Arthus shook his head, trying to snap out of it, then looking at the gates of Bruma before them. It seemed almost too easy, but perhaps it was better this way - no fighting required. And fighting wasn't a good thing, not for Arthus, especially not combat on a relatively narrow, slippery mountain road. Nigh impossible to manoeouvre while also spellcasting and being careful not to set any of the nearby plentiful wooden things on fire...

"Well, I doubt anyone has anything against this happening... Looks like old Wulf's with us here." The mage smiled, recalling one particular tale about the Nerevarine.

Sryner thought carefully as he studied his visitor. Qualo seemed very wise for his age, and considering the fact that he himself stated he often was taken advantage of because he was naive. He was a unique man, and Sryner was curius. How did he end up here? Where did he want to go? Was he scheming beyond simply leaving Bruma to find a better home? Aside from the cold weather, Bruma was a great city. The architecture was great, the people were friendly, and so were the guards. But Sryner wouldn't let his curiosity drive him not to trust the kid, as he'd done nothing to deserve such. Until he saw reason not to, he did indeed trust Qualo.

But he wasn't so sure if he trusted the plan.

"So we just need to wait around until we find a group of well-armed men and simply ask them to pose as mercenaries so we can leave the city? It may be hard enough to do that, but also realize that they may have a price tag for such a helpful deed. These days, no act of kindness is done for the sake of morals, nor is it free," Sryner said. He was feeling all to much like a crabby man who was complaining about the rough times. But at least what he said was true. He learned most of his wisdom through unlucky experience. "But if you saw a group that could pass as mercenaries, then I'll find them. Hopefully I can convince them to help in a way that won't dry all our resources. You, on the other hand, need to get ready for if we can get that far. You're too young to be a soldier, so you need to cover your face. Either find some armor with a closed helm or get a cloak with a hood to cover your eyes and grow a beard. Here," Sryner took one of his three swords, a rather mundane steel longsword, and tossed it to Qualo. "Mercenaries are equipped well. Whatever weapons you have, keep them too. But make sure when we pass the gates, they see that. I won't be long, feel free to stay here if you wish. If you leave, you know where to find me."

Sryner left, looking for the group of armed men to see if they could aid his mission. He could hear the clanging of swords from ourside Bruma. There was a battle outside. This would make leaving the city twice the burden it had already become. Nevertheless, he began searching the inns around town and asking people if they'd seen a group of armed men who weren't guards or mercenaries, but may have looked like the latter.