ooc: Managed to sneak this in, yay!

IC: As the man helped Ronin into the non-damaged warehouse, the human propped the lizard on one of the interior walls, and almost instantaneously, he plopped on the ground like a bag of hammers.
The man crouched down by Ronin and said something about medical supplies, the wounded bombardier couldn't quite comprehend what the man was saying. He forced a small nod, and the man set off.He looked around the room with futile luck, then decided to take the stairs. Each step the man took, made each stair creak and groan as if it were in pain. For some delusional reason, Ronin felt sorry for it.

After a few seconds of being alone, the Argonian heard several thumps on the roof, and up the stairs. Then one loud crash, followed by indistinct voices. Ronin couldn't make out the words, he whimpered lowly as he tried to move his leg. It felt like a thousand needles were stabbing in and out of his body. He sat, leaning against the wall, in agony. Oh gods, I'm going to die here!

His small panic was interrupted by a whistle, and a wooden crack. He slowly moved his head over to see another man, possibly a Nord, or Imperial, standing in the room, not ten feet from where Ronin lay. Okay, maybe not...., However, the newcomer seemed completely oblivious to the injured lizard, and began to walk up the stairs, the same that the other fellow took. Ronin tried to call out to him, but the pain in his body refused to let him. He could only watch as the Nord or Imperial man trekked up the stairs.

This is it then? I'm going to die alone... Ronin thought despairingly, after all he had accomplished, how long he had survived, he was just going to die. Like that. If only he had his backpack! He always kept several of his own potions and elixirs in it. But now, it might've been too late.

''I'm Amiel!''

He heard a shout from upstairs. Ronin wished dearly that he knew what was going on, but could only sit there, wounded and no one tending to him. Dying painfully, and slowly like a bloody rat.

IC: After hiding the horse, Waylas returned to the warehouse where Amiel had entered. Shutting the door, he noticed the injured argonian propped up agianst the wall, and a stairwell. Amiel must have gone upstairs in search of medical supplies Waylas looked around, and noticing a desk, opened its drawers. Inside he found some booze and a bottle filled with a blue liquid. The label on the bottle read "Hangover's bane." On the backside, the effects of the potion were listed, namely, restore health, and restore fatigue. Waylas then walked over to the argonian, and said "Hey, I found you a restore health potion."

The redguard waited in hopes of some movement from the argonian before administering the potion.

OOC: Sorry for the short post.

The Dark Brotherhood?. Lysa didn't let her guard down and held her katana at the ready. "It was my father's. He was a Blade." She said, "And this one," she gestured to the katana on her back, "was my grandfathers."

The Nord most likely wasn't her enemy, if he wanted to kill her he would have tried by now, but still L she kept her guard up. Anything could happen. Have I seen him before?

"What do you mean the Dark Brotherhood is in our midst? Why would they be down here?" The sewers would be a good hiding place for the Brotherhood but it already housed countless feral rats, mudcrabs, and goblins. One wrong step and you could be in the middle of a goblin nest.

"Shh.....they are here. Follow me, and I will explain everything. It is not safe here. You must be quiet, no questions until we get to safety."

Ongar moved down the dark tunnel quietly. The Corpus were gone. He looked back at the Imperial,
"This way."

He took a left into a narrow tunnel, and heard a slight screeching noise.
"Here they come again. Guard yourself."
Ongar figured the girl had no idea what was going on. He quickly unsheathed his katana. It stung the air and pierced it like a bolt of lightning.

Several Goblins appeared in the front of the tunnel, and some appeared in the back.

"You take the front, I'll take the back.

Lysa nodded and unsheathed her other katana on her back. Controlling her breathing, she slipped into a battle stance and watched the goblins approach slowly.

The four goblins were poorly armoured and armed. Each of them only had fragments of suits of armour that they stole from unsuspecting men and women. Their weapons were crrude, rusted, and chipped in several spots. They obviously didn't know how to handle them properly either. They held them awkwardly and too tight, leaving no room to swith hand positions if they needed to.

Lysa saw her opportunity and lunged foward at the closest goblin. The goblin tried to duck but instead fell flat on his behind and made it easy for Lysa to plunge her katana into its neck. The other goblins hesitated a moment before attacking. Lysa danced away from their oncoming attack and slashed at another goblin with her left katana then stabbing it with her right. Before the other two could react Lysa sprung forward again and slashed down on the goblins neck and chopped down between its shoulder blade and neck.

But before Lysa could finish off the last one, the goblin swung furiosly at Lysa's knee. There was a sickening crunch and Lysa was temporarily blinded by pain, she screamed and dropped on her good knee. The goblin raised its club once more but Lysa was quicker and cut deep into its throat. With the goblins dead Lysa fell on her side and clutched her knee.

ic: Ronin seemed to be in a dream state, he couldn't decide if he was floating in the air, or weighed down to the ground. Or both. The bleeding from his nose had stopped, which in turn could have been either good or bad, but bad was more likely. He had been finding it harder and harder to breath through his nose, and had to rely on his mouth. The blood was probably building up in his head, which, in turn, was very bad.

Why can't I just die...? It's always something different, nothing simple anymore... The bombmaker did his best to sigh, without causing too much pain, which was quite an effort. "Hey, I found you a restore health potion." A voice came from seemingly nowhere. Ronin groggily opened his eyes slowly to see a man standing before him, possibly Redguard.

Well...? What are you waiting for?! Ronin thought after a few excruciating seconds. The man had a potion, why wasn't he helping him? Did he think he was dead? Maybe if I could..., He attempted to at least move one of his limbs, but the pain quickly returned, causing the lizard to let out a strained wheeze. Hopefully that was enough to show the man that he needed help... and soon...

IC: AFter noticing some movement from the argonian, waylas administered the potion. He hoped it would be enough to heal the argonian, as he didn't know anything about restorative magics nor did he know the slightest bit about mundane medical methods.

With a stir, Iakan rose, a thin layer of sweat dripping off his chin. The room was suffocatingly hot. He glanced over at Mattius who's chest rose and fell heavily as he slept. Iakan felt around in the darkness until his hand slid across the top of a dresser. He lifted himself, stumbled blindly as the blood rushed from his head, and clambered over Mattius to the open window. The cool evening breeze dried the sweat on his face and wafted in the unpleasant odor of the corpus infection. He couldn't have cared less.

Finally, as his senses refocused in the dim light of the setting sun, he turned back into the dark room.
After a few seconds he relit the brass candlestick and stood back up, looking over the supplies Mattius had salvaged.

Before Iakan could go through the mass of ripped clothing and dull carving knives, a faint shuffle from downstairs caused him to sit still.
He stopped breathing-- his heart fluttered momentarily as the shuffling continued. It could've been a rat, or another survivor, or perhaps the corpus monsters had broken through the barricade.

Iakan moved quietly across the floor and gently pushed Mattius's shoulder.
"Wha...What's wrong Iakan?" he mumbled ignorantly.
"Shh! There's something downstairs." he replied in a whisper.

Mattius reached for his sword and rested his hand on the hilt, at the ready should something or someone attack.
"I'm going to rush it. On the count of three I'm going to charge through the door and light the room up with an Illusion spell. You follow in behind and warn me if anything moves."

Mattius simply nodded and stood up alongside Iakan.
"1...2...3..."

In one swift movement, Iakan kicked the door to their room ajar and shot an illusion spell straight for the ceiling. In one violent cascade of green light, the entire room was lit up like an Imperial ball. To their horror, the corpus beasts had silently slipped through the barricade. There were nearly a dozen of them limping about absent-mindedly.

"Kill them quickly!" Mattius shouted as he dove forward, driving his sword through the stomach of one of the corpus monsters. Iakan followed with a firebolt to the head, severing it entirely. Mattius had already drawn his sword and hacked at another monster by the time the spell had reached it's victim.
Iakan fired off a menacing lightning spell at another beast, sending it back into the wall and snapping it's spine in two.

"There are too many Mattius! We must flee!" he shrieked over the angry moans and ear-piercing rings of his companions blade as it dashed and danced across the tender flesh of the monsters. It was evident the Imperial did not intend to run.

Ongar moved quickly to the Goblins, 3 of them.

They weren't very skillful, but one of them was no joke. Two slashes were thrown, and two goblins fell; their clubs dropping to the stone cold floor.

It is a warlord.....

The mighty warlord bore an elven longsword, with several scraps from various armor, from iron to elven. He sung with the mighty sword, and Ongar parried of the blow quickly. The recoil made the goblin fly back, but it quickly parried back at the Nord. Their swords pushed against each other with a great amount of force, such force that a Bosmer or Breton could not handle it. Ongar heard a scream. The Imperial had fallen to the floor, clutching her knee in what seemed to her unbearable pain.

Ongar pulled his sword inward, and swung the goblin's weapon downward. He came back up with his blade, and the gruesome metal handle came upon the goblin's face, as if a blacksmith was forging a weapon. The goblin dropped his sword, and Ongar impaled it in the briast, where it fell into the cold darkness.

"You are hurt. You will not be able to walk, at least today. I will carry you back to my home here. How bad is it hurting?"

Ongar examined the wound. It was bleeding, but not badly. It was bruised greatly, and was sure to swell up. Ongar took up the Imperial woman and laid her across his shoulders.

"We will talk about your father when we get to safety. There is something you need to know."

"Damn it! No!" Tharasn yelled as he countinued to determine who was who. Okay... Mabye I should listen to the one with the knife... I coud definetly take him if he tried anything. Tharasn nodded and walked over to the nearest chair. "I'll sit back and watch... If you are who you say you are," directing his attention to the one with the knife, "then you should have no problem with me staying here." He said not about to hand his authortiy over to anyone. He leaned back on two legs of the chair smirking. "Please continue, it looks like you two were right at the climix of this... disagreement." He mused still grinning.

Lysa did not like to be handled in such a way, especially by a man she knew nothing about, but with the pain in her knee she could not protest. So she rested on the Nord's shoulders and let the pain subside a little. "I think it might be dislocated." she said after a long silence, "If I pop it back into place and rest it for a little while I'll be able to walk on my own tomorrow."

More silence continued after that. "Well since we are in a talkative mood already why don't we talk about my father. How do you know him?"

IC: "Its a family matter, but alright, you can watch." Octavius replied to the imperial's exclamation.

"Please! He's going to kill me!" Decimus shouted with urgency.

Octavius stared into Decimus' eyes, and then said "What are you doing here Decimus?"

"I'm just looking for supplies and a place to hide from the corpus beasts!" Decimus squirmed under Octavius' grip, he knew the man pinning him was willing to do far worse then slit his throat.

"You're putting on a show. I know your knights attacked that argonian. What were you doing? Trying to steal food?" Octavius was tired of this little charade.

"Knights? what are you talking about? Please! Help me! He's going to kill me!" The fear in Decimus' voice was obvious.

"Good bye, brother." and with that, Octavius slit Decimus' throat.

"I've heard of tough love but nothing like this." Tharasn commented with a crooked grin. He stood up and made his way over to the man. "So... I'm not an expert on this new epidemic but do dead things get infected too?" He asked eyeing the body suspiciously as if were a poised snake ready to strike. He looked at the man and tried to piece some things together. He wasn't very forgiving and he said something about knights. "Let me guess, your the real Amiel?" He asked still clutching on to the board. So there's three survivors... unless the argonian he was talking about is dead.
"Whats this about knights? And for the record, if I knew it was famliy matter I would have gladly left. But then again people now a days arent to trustworthy." He said smiling trying plainly to make a friend in this godforsaken land. His mind began to wonder to what these knights were.

IC: "Yes, I'm the real Amiel." Octavius returned his dagger to its sheath within his coat as he stood up. Now looking the imperial in the eyes, he decided to explain the circumstances.

"To your first question, I've never seen the dead get back up as corpus monsters, so I think were safe. As for the Knights, they were knights of the Metellus family of nobles. The dead man here is Decimus Metellus, my brother. When I entered the waterfront, I encountered the argonian downstairs fighting one of Decimus' knights. After assisting in his defeat, I helped the wounded argonian in this warehouse. You're going to have to ask him what the knights were doing here. My guess is that they got stuck in the city and were stealing supplies for their escape."

Pausing for a moment, Octavius looked at the man he had just met, and said "Do you happen to know any destruction magic? The tunnel to the city caved in, and me and Waylas were seperated from the rest of the group. There's no way to unblock the tunnel by hand."

OOC: sorry for the post with no ic but I'm doing this from my phone in another state and I won't be able to post till either Sunday or Monday

As soon as the pale blue liquid of the healing potion entered Ronin's system, it went to work. Within seconds, the pain in his body ceased, and he felt almost new. Although, the elixir wasn't created for this sort of job. The blood that was clotted up in his snout when his nose stopped bleeding, sadly, unclogged, and all the blood sprayed out of the argonian's mouth and nose, all over the floor and a little on the man who gave him the potion.

''Apologies...'' Ronin wheezed as he forced himself up, immediately he was hit by a dizzy spell, and the lizard rocked slightly in all directions like a drunkard. I did loose a lot of blood..., Once gravity anchored Ronin down, he stared at the man that had helped him. He looked Redguard, or possibly Imperial.

''Thank you for potion, not sure how...'' He paused as his gaze looked towards the stairway, where those two men walked up. Too many things were going through the bombardiers mind. Who were those knights? Who were these people, were they survivors? What triggered one of his trip-mines...? Ronin tried to piece it together, but got the on comings of a headache as an award. Brilliant...

He sighed and looked back the newcomer, he stammered for moment before introducing himself, ''I am Ronin'' he said, trying his best to form the words in correct order. Curse my broken tongue! Why can I not speak like a civilized person?

ooc: Bad post, I've been stocked down with homework lately. When I get it sorted out, hopefully my posts will improve...

As Fanier neared the Breton man, he began to make out certain features. He could see the dark brown hair and blue eyes, and was now sure that it was Francois. It seemed he was in bad shape, but no broken bones. Fanier could see that Francois had lost quite a bit of blood; a fairly-sized pool of the red liquid shimmered on the ground. And Francois was standing, propped up by his sword.

"Francois," Fanier said quietly, not wanting to scare the man. "It's me, Fanier." He scooted himself backward across the stone floor and into the small circle of light around Francois. He looked scared; not of him, but of everything that was happening around him: the corprus horde, the tunnel, and all the wounds he had sustained. Fanier looked at the Breton, and examined a wound that had pus oozing out of it. "You're not too bad," he said optimistically, and pointed to his own right leg. "My leg's broken."

Fanier backed up against a wall, and again pulled out his scotch. As he uncapped it, the strong smell of alcohol wafted through the air, singing Fanier's nostrils. "C'mere," he said to Francois, gesturing the breton to come. "Let's get those wounds cleaned up." He waved the canteen around happily. "Nothing cleans cuts like a bit of alcohol."

Staring into the darkness, Francois waved the torch in front of him, casting shadows over several pieces of rubble. The shadows made him tense slightly, thinking something was moving. When the sounds of a man walking towards him reached his ears, the breton went stiff, ready to lift his sword and make an attempt to swing it.

"Francois," "It's me, Fanier."

However quiet he was in saying this, it nonetheless made Francois jump slightly. As the elf approached he seemed a frightful creature, likely caused by the black spots in his rather blurred vision. He tried to speak, but nothing came from his lips. Fanier hobbled closer, seemingly examining the wound that was oozing pus. Please don't notice it.. He shook slightly. As Fanier backed against the wall, he relaxed slightly, but still shook from the bloodloss. The mer uncapped a flask, the smell suggesting some alcoholic beverage. Another sniff revealed more than alcohol however, blood was dripping from his nose. Francois began to feel cold, the lack of blood taking effect.

" Fanier.. " He said weakly, a questioning tone entering his voice. Francois stumbled forward, reaching out for the elf.

" Ffffaaanierrr .. " This time louder, but with a but of slurring. He took a clumsy step towards the blurred figure against the wall. His sword shifted under his weight, going to the side and letting the man fall to the ground at Fanier's feet.

Name: Aravey Sarayn
Race: Dunmer
Gender: Male
Apparent Age: 120
Actual Age: 132

Skills: Mercantile, Speechcraft, Daggers, Orientation, Cooking, Athletics.
Armor/apparel: A fine black shirt and some slacky old black pants with boots to match.
Unique apparel: Family Heirdom Ring.

Weapons: Silver Dagger
Equipment: 23 pieces of bread, 6 Corkbull roots, 4 Carrots, 3 Iron Longswords, 2 Rusty Iron Bows, 64 arrows. All this -Carried- on a Guar that has bags attached to it's back. Also has 1063 Money.

Physical Appearance: This man seems to be to quite well built and young for a Dunmer. He stands at a quite regular height and weight for a man at his age. His hair is dark red and is shaped "Naturall" Red eyes as any Dunmers.
Unique Appearance: N/A
Mental Description: A very nice trader. Pretty friendly.
Short Bio: Aravey was born in Vvardenfell and have lived there all his life. He lived in a house in Balmora together with his parents. He's father was also a trader and he's mother were pretty much always at home. However when the Corups started to spread throughout Vvardenfell. His family had a boat, a quite small one with sails. They reached the boat, however he's father was infected by Corpus. He killed his mother, Aravey had a dagger at himself. He threw it, and by a lucky shot it went right into his father's head. He died relativly fast. Grabbing the Family Heirdom ring and sailed away.

IC: Aravey carefully watched as the man fell down to the ground. Hes eyes filled with questions marks. Unsure what to do. However they look normal. He approches them after carefully thinking through. That this could might be his only hope. Hes steps is steady and he looks at the people around him. With his Guar closely behind. Aravey opens his mouth, about to speak
"Uh.. Hello?" He said while peering at the people. His Guar letting out a slight sound.

OOC: Sorry for my absence. I was unusually busy this week, and I will be next week, but ah lads, summer is almost here!
and, eh, sorry for short post. Don't got much time. I have seen a definite in the number of people in this RP.

IC: Ongar moved around the corners sturdily, looking for the path to get back to his so called in the room in the deep sewers. He could here the sound of dripping water scaling the wall of darkness. He had known many Blades, and now he had a plan.

"What is your father's name. There were many Blades. We will see about your knee once we reach safety."

Ongar was aware they needed supplies badly. He thought about looting a store the next day in the market district, but he would think about that more once they had reached safety, and the Imperial was well enough to walk

IC: Waylas was glad to see that the argonian was improving his condition, but he was not glad to have blood sneezed onto him.

"No problems." The redguard replied, a lie brought about by concern. Looking upon the argonian with concern, he realised there was little else to be done. The argonian's condition was...stable from the looks of things, but there was not telling whether he'd pull through.

"My name's Waylas. Its nice to meet you Ronin."

OOC: sorry for the short post, waiting on HI!

ooc: Oh, whats this...? Krimsin, you bettah be happy.

ic: Meanwhile... In Cheydinhal

Several Days Later...

Journal Entry 03

I do not remember which day, nor month it is. So I think I'll just stick with 'Journal Entries'

I'm still wondering on what possessed me to suggest going to Morrowind, I regret it, and wish I could take it back. But since Xa-Raku agreed on it so quickly, it made things a little bit difficult... so the past few days, out little unfortunate trio has been gathering any sort of fresh goods to take on our trip. If only we had a horse. So far on your little scavenge hunt, I found an Empty Journal, and a small tan-leather back pack in mint condition. Trisha lent me some ink and a quill so I could write and keep myself busy. Speaking of that young Argonian lass, she seems to follow me around everywhere, she'll walk by me, rest by me, hell, even sleep by me. I'm not sure why, but I honestly don't mind. I like her company quite a bit, and we've pvssyd quite a bit, I never would have guessed there was someone like me on this godforsaken place too.

Radek marched casually through the debris sprawled out on the Cheydinhal streets. Though the attack happened several days ago, the lizard was still shocked that the corprus managed to do so much damage, but then again, when have they never so much damage? Radek lazily kicked a large sliver of timber out of his way as he approached what used to be a small cottage.
He need not bother opening the door, since the front end of the house was non-existent. Ahead of the entrance, was not a pretty sight. From what Radek could see, furniture and tables were turned over or broken, or both. Although, it was the least of his concerns; on the floor, the carpeting and wood was stained with blood, as well as a few small meaty chunks of rotten flesh on the ground. Radek turned away, covering his eyes from the grotesque sight, he walked over to a large boulder, dropped his backpack on the ground, and sat down on the wet, mossy ground.

The half-crazed Argonian dug around though his back pack for moment and withdrew a small metal canteen. He had found it on the first day of scavenging, he though it would be useless, but so far proved to be valuable. He unscrewed the top and took a long swig from it, the lukewarm dirt-flavored water tasted strange in his mouth, but he didn't mind. It was better then the alternative. He around of what he could see of Cheydinhal, since the scavenging began, Radek and Xa-Raku split, and wandered different directions. Although, Trish stayed with Radek. He was actually glad that she went with him, sometimes they'd chat and it would clear Radek's mind, and make him feel... normal.
He looked back at her, and offered her the canteen, ''You looked parched...'' he said, hoping for some sort of invitation for conversation.

OOC: Yaaaaay. Will post when I get home.


IC: Xa-raku found a house he had not yet previously searched, and cautiously opened the door - experience from the previous days had taught him to be wary of those that might have found themselves trapped inside and then turned. He was concerned he had not yet found any survivors, but he quickly realized that most of the people who still had any sense would have fled the city days ago. That made him question why they continued to remain in the first place. Hey didn't want to think about this anymore, or anything. He just wanted to take the supplies and be on his way with the rest of the group to Morrowind. He hadn't argued with Radek much because he didn't like to be the one making decisions. He didn't even know where to begin when it came to difficult decisions. His mind simply refused to come to a decisive option nine times out of ten. Perhaps this meant he was over-thinking it, but how could he not? If he didn't, he might fail. And he wasn't prepared to lead the group to their end just because of a single poor decision.

Xa-raku shook his head and looked about the house he was in. A lot of expensive furniture, but little of any apparent use. He rifled through some bags, finding one waterskin, which would actually have been useful. He opened it and confirmed that it was full, so he took it with him. The house was surprisingly sturdy in the ruined city, but it was rich and so had been looted by others rather quickly in the confusion.

ooc: It's like a big, scaly reunion! =D
It really is good to be back, though. Thanks for helping me get back into this, Jerod. Hugs for you.

ic: Trisha had followed Radek as he scavenged, shadowing him and chatting on occasion. Over her shoulder was slung a bag, which contained food, water and some medical supplies in the way of healing potions, along with a multitude of empty vials. On her back was a rather large backpack, which held a few books she could not bear to part with, some clothing and sentimentals, and her alchemy gear with associated ingredients. To her despair, she found she was unable to take all her alchemy gear with her, seeing as she simply had so much of it, so she took only the rarer supplies she had on hand and a couple of jars full of mundane ones she'd packed together. In her arms, she clutched the strange plant that had sat on her windowsill. At the moment, it appeared to be sleeping, its stalk curled up in the soil like a dog in front of a fire.

The young Argonian maiden had waited outside, as usual, while Radek went in. She had a weak stomach and no combat abilities, so staying out of the corpse and corprus ridden ruins seemed like the better option. She'd just get in the way if a fight broke out, anyway. She tilted her short snout upwards to look at the entrance of the house she was outside at the moment when she heard Radek exit, and the Argonian equivalent of a smile crossed her face. It was funny, how she seemed to have so much in common with this odd, wandering man. She'd only just met him recently, but he felt almost like family, like some long lost brother from another life.

When he came out, he set his things down by the boulder she had been leaning against, petting the 'head' of her little pet flora. Setting its pot down gently so as not to disturb it, Trisha reached out and took the offered canteen, tilting the water out of it into her mouth, avoiding contact with the canteen itself -she still wasn't quite comfortable with drinking after somebody- then handed it back.

"Not parched, but.. the water's nice." Trish commented idly. Though she knew she was as much a part of the 'group' as Radek or Xa-Raku, she knew she was just a teenager, and as such, didn't want to interfere. But, Radek seemed to have taken to her rather quickly in the same way she had to him, and somehow she found herself acting a little more bravely around him. She had, for instance, initiated conversations with him over the past days, something she usually never did with anyone but her parents. Squatting and wrapping her tail around her ankles, Trisha glanced over at her companion.

"No survivors still, huh?" It was less a question than a dejected statement. Coping with her own losses left her in a state of numbness that scared her. It no longer utterly terrified her to see a corpse in the streets, and she was beginning to learn how to keep from having bile rise in the throat at the sight of death, too. The old Trisha would have scoured the houses for survivors even long after it was obviously futile. But, it seemed, that person had mostly died with her parents.

Amazing how quickly people change under pressure and hardship. I never would have imagined I'd find myself here, scavenging ruins and keeping the company of two strange men. She looked over at Radek, a quick glance, then back down at the plant by her feet. Somehow, though, there's an odd freedom in it all. Amid the horror of it, I.. I have no responsibilities anymore, save for to myself, nobody bullies me and I'm free to do as I please. That first night feels like years ago now..

Finally, she spoke again, looking straight at her new friend once more. "So.. Radek.." Despite all her new strengths, starting a conversation was still difficult for her, "What are we going to do when we get there?"

ooc: :hugs:

ic: ''Still no survivors, huh?'' Trish asked as she handed the canteen back to Radek. He placed the bottle into his side pocket, he sniffed loudly. ''If you count the flies...'' He said, shaking his head disappointingly. The lizard then proceeded to stretch out his legs to their full length. The smell of burning wood floated around through the air, possibly from a fire that was started and never put out. Cheydinhal was a ghost town, everyone had just vanished in the night. Well, minus the three argonian's scouring the ruins for supplies. "So.. Radek.." His comrade began once more, "What are we going to do when we get there?"
Radek shrugged, he didn't exactly give it much though, he didn't want to give it much thought.

''I don't know...'' He said, locking his fingers together nervously - something he did from time to time - and looked at Trisha, ''If my theory is correct, there'll be next to none of those.... those'' he looked away towards the horizon; the sun was beginning to set, the corprus would be returning soon in hopes to pick of any stragglers. Radek waited for several more seconds, then took a deep breath, ''We should head back to the house, it's getting rather late...''
He grunted slightly as he stood up, grabbed his back back and slung it over his shoulders. He stepped infront of Trisha, and held out a chainmail-gloved hand. ''It's time to go...''

The female argonian's question rang through Radek's mind again. What would they do when they go to Morrowind? What would happen? Where would they go...? He shuddered slightly, We won't know...until we get there...