[Donatus Uwasomba]

Waylas


“Good to meet you Waylas” Jack said as he shook the Redguard's hand “Although Hammerfell wasn’t abandoned by the empire as much as you might think, we are stilling fighting. My father is actually fighting out there right now, and he isn’t a normal solider… anymore…"

'Not abandoned? Yes, just try and rationalize it however you want. But the Imperials left the Redguards to fend for themselves when they retreated to the Alik'r desert!' Waylas quietly thought to himself. 'In the end the Redguards of Hammerfell will never forget the day when the Imperials chose to look out for their own interests.' The Redguard took another swig from his chalice of Rum and finished it off. He then tossed it aside and continued to listen to the Imperial as he spoke.

“As for this “exchange” with the emperor, I’m just here to give legate Skulnar report to emperor and his advisers. Oh and inform him of scout we captured but I probably shouldn't tell you anymore than that." The Imperial spoke. “I only came over as I was interested in what your group was doing here, so relax I won’t interrupt your exchange unless it’s a scam…"

"Well we haven't exactly been given the warmest welcome by your watchmen." Waylas replied in a more serious tone. "Please excuse me if I find it a little hard to trust you. But I'm just trying to make sure I leave here with my head still on my shoulders." Waylas finished and casually strolled over to one of the servers and grabbed himself another chalice of rum. He then looked back over to Jack and thought to himself 'I'll believe what he says for now. But I'm still keeping my eyes on him.' Waylas had a gut feeling there was more to this man that met the eye.

"A mere surprise attack would not destroy the entire organization. The Dominion is a sleeping beast that we cannot slay alone. It would take much more to bring the Thalmor crumbling to its knees.", the Vaultren interjected.

Jack then turned his attention to Vaultren and spoke, “Of Course it wouldn’t but it could cripple or destroy their invasion force and give us time to rebuild our forces here whilst focusing our attention on Hammerfell. If we are going to win this war we are going to need everyone and have them at full strength… especially if we want to drive them back to Summerset." The captain countered. "With the forces we have now the only thing we can do now is outlast them…”

'Outlast? Bah! What a joke! The Thalmor are not an army that can be outlasted.' Waylas thought as he continued dropping in on the conversation. 'The empire is just allowing the Thalmor trample over them. The advancing army is already sitting on the empire's front door step!'

The Redguard finally tuned out of the conversation as he secretly pulled out his bag of moon sugar. He then proceeded to discreetly snort a few rocks through his nose and let the moon sugar cloud his mind. After years of being sober inside an Imperial prison and at the hands of the Thalmor, Waylas was free to continue with his drug habit. As a pirate he often indulged in drugs and didn't mind breaking the rule 'don't get high on you own supply' often hoarding a portion of the drugs for himself and evoking complaints from fellow crew members.

Waylas now moved his head from side to side looking to see if anyone had seen him snort moon sugar, before placing the bag back in his pocket and continuing to sip his rum.

[Janine Rose]

Vaultren. White-Gold Tower, Imperial City.
Cyrodiil - 11^th of Second Seed, 4E 174.

Vaultren grew increasingly weary of Waylas. The man by all means resembled everything uncivilized. His loud ruckus in the celebration of rum, his careless tossing of a fine cup in the middle of the room simply made the Imperial tribune tolerable. He spoke to Lupinus, gtrabbing hold of another cup of rum.

"Well we haven't exactly been given the warmest welcome by your watchmen." Waylas said.

Why is there always a 'we'? Vaultren thought with frustration. As if that Altmer creature shared blood with any of you. Last he recalled, Vaultren had no quarrel with anyone else but the Altmer. No one else had to pay for the torture, yet they seemed to challenge him for the safesty of their own prisoner. Or perhaps was he even a prisoner at all?

"Please excuse me if I find it a little hard to trust you. But I'm just trying to make sure I leave here with my head still on my shoulders." The redguard added.

Vaultren scoffed at his words, though he did it in a non-detectable way. Then Jack spoke of the Thalmor once more. The tribune had doubts that this man would survive the invasion, if he was to eager to die for his city, then no doubt there would be a High Elf that would entreat him that wish. Vaultren had seen this countless times.

"Of Course it wouldn’t but it could cripple or destroy their invasion force and give us time to rebuild our forces here whilst focusing our attention on Hammerfell. If we are going to win this war we are going to need everyone and have them at full strength… especially if we want to drive them back to Summerset. With the forces we have now the only thing we can do now is outlast them…”

The Penutus Oculatus aspirant simple shrugged, erecting himself a haughty breath. "You are right on one thing; what we can do now is outlast them. But to regain our efforts and fight an open war would be unwise. Titus Mede was able to consolidate his power when he seized control of the Empire by force. He earned his title. And he proved himself worthy of it when he took control. His enemies fell before him, all but the Thalmor themselves."

Vaultren shifted a little in his standing position, holding his near empty cup beneath his hand. "This is not a history lesson, I merely wish to reaquaint you a not so distant past. Time and time again the Thalmor have shown us their effectiveness to remain strong. They began their path of power not through subjugation alone, Lupus, but through contagion. Like a sickness, they spread, infecting others with their venomous words and tongue-coated deception. And in time, they rose to become a true threat for the Empire."

Where am I going with this? Vaultren asked himself. Loud to the group, he continued. "Open war-fare will not defeat the Thalmor alone. Where the strength of arms fail, the sharpest mind flourishes. I admire the Thalmor's tactics, I'll admit. And I believe the Empire must do the same if we are to truly crush them."

He took a final sip of his wine, grinning his malevolent smile. "Perhaps in their weakened state, we can claim our rightful place as rulers of this world, by using subjugation. The Daedric Prince, Mehrunes, did an impressive job of striking fear into the heart of the Altmer. Flaying the flesh of their men and women, tearing them apart to feed the beasts. A gruesome showing, yes. But it was effective. Fear kept them in line, until once again the Thalmor ascended to fight back Dagon's ilk."

[Kat Stewart]

The Imperial City, Cyrodiil - 11^th of Second Seed, 4E 174

Faendal kept himself out of the conversation, for the most part. Waylas- the Redguard, and the two Imperials debated the Thalmor, a topic the old Bosmer had no stomach for any longer. Among all of them, he was likely the only one who knew how large a threat the Thalmor truly posed. Their Altmer captive might have the beginnings of an understanding, but- 'Wait,' Faendal thought, his black eyes darting about the room, 'Where is he?' The gold skinned turn-cloak was nowhere to be found, the only hint of him the half opened exit to the chamber. 'Damn him! Damn him to hell!'

Before the Bosmer could follow after the elf, however, a dour faced legionnaire approached him, his eyes narrowed with mistrust. "The emperor will see you now. Keep in mind who you speak to, elf." Without another word the Imperial was gone, marching back towards some corridor, signalling the servants at the great double doors. Faendal barely had time to register what was happening before the huge oaken entryway was being opened. The Imperial servants had all retreated to the perimeter of the room, leaving only Faendal and his company before the entrance to the throne room.

The chamber itself was completely circular, with walls of white marble ringed by thick columns. The center of the room was dominated by a single ornate throne, sitting atop what legend had as the table of the old Elder Council. The throne itself was made of white stone, gilded with soft gold and inlaid with sparkling rubies. The throne's golden armrests were fashioned into the twin heads of dragons, their faces just as fierce as the man that grasped them. The emperor himself sat straight backed, his sharp countenance already aged beyond his years. His dark mahogany hair had already begun to recede beneath his crown, but the jaw hidden behind his thick beard was hard set with determination.

Faendal glanced once over his shoulder, wishing he had at least a uniform, then began the long walk towards the throne. He was stopped a dozen feet before the emperor- whose flinty stare seemed to take in each of them in turn- by a white armored Imperial. "Kneel before your emperor, the glorious Titus Mede the second!" The palace guard's tone brooked no disagreement, yet still it took the old Bosmer a moment before he reluctantly complied. His pride forced him to keep his eyes on the tall, thick framed man seated atop the throne, but his sense allowed him to drop one knee to the marble floor.

"You may rise," the emperor's deep voice was just as hard as the rest of him, filled with the authority of one who expected absolute obedience. His gray eyed stare came to a rest on Faendal, frowning slightly at the elf before continuing. "You have word of the approaching Thalmor host, Bosmer? I trust your news is valuable enough to warrant my attention. Time is not something the Empire has to spare at this moment."

The old soldier met the large man's gaze, fighting against his indignation. He knew his fate- along with the rest of his company- rested in the emperor's strong hands. "Yes, your... grace. We broke free of their encampment just last night, at the ruins of old Fort Homestead. The main host follows close behind; they will be on the city in days. The rest of the Altmeri strength has encircled the city to the north and east. They mean to finish this war, once and for all."

The emperor nodded at his words, but was otherwise unfazed. If he had already known of the doom approaching his city he gave no sign. 'This man is more stone than the throne he sits,' Faendal thought, waiting anxiously for a reply. Instead, Emperor Mede shifted his gaze, his eyes narrowing as they rested on someone behind him. "Tribune Vaultren, why do you stand amongst these men? Have you something to say of them?"

'Of course he knows,' Faendal thought, cursing the Imperial Tribune, 'But what does he mean to do? Unless he thinks we have more information, we are useless to him. And if we are useless, there is nothing to stop our execution.' The Bosmer's mind raced, searching for a way out. There had to be something they could offer, something to make him spare their lives.


OOC: Werewolf, if you would do the honors of explaining our earlier scuffle, then we can move on and be ready to start the next portion of the RP. If all goes well the new sign up thread will be up by this time next week.

[Jamie Lee]

Vaultren. White-Gold Tower, Throne Room, Imperial City.
Cyrodiil - 11^th of Second Seed, 4E 174

At last, the time had come for the meeting to take place. The Bosmer, Faendal and his motley crew were admitted entrance to the grand Imperial palace. Vaultren took no time in gazing at the marvelous tapestries and exquisite decorations. He had seen these halls and this particular chamber countless of times that it bored him to tears. The circular chamber was filled with all of the escaped prisoners, newcomers and Imperial legionnaires alike, all prostrating themselves before the Emperor.

Vaultren dropped to a single knee, bowing his head in deference of the man seated upon the throne. His actions may have convinced everyone that he was loyal to the Emperor, but truthfully, he loathed the man as he did the Thalmor.

"You may rise," Titus Mede II said to all of those gathered in his presence. Vaultren was among the first to rise to his feet. Vaultren's thoughts gathered on his words. As someday, you may fall.

"You have word of the approaching Thalmor host, Bosmer? I trust your news is valuable enough to warrant my attention. Time is not something the Empire has to spare at this moment."

The Imperial tribune held his arms behind his back as he glanced over at the Wood Elf, Faendal. He could tell he was edgy and a bit nervous for what could of been a great number of reasons. He watched with a frown as the Bosmer spoke. He didn't want to let his facial expressions bespeak his feelings. He would allow words to do such things. But he waited until the Mer was done speaking.

"Yes, your... grace. We broke free of their encampment just last night, at the ruins of old Fort Homestead. The main host follows close behind; they will be on the city in days. The rest of the Altmeri strength has encircled the city to the north and east. They mean to finish this war, once and for all."

I see no reason he would lie here. He cannot gamble his lies on false tales, not this time. Unlike the others, perhaps, Vaultren saw that this man knew how dangerous the Thalmor could be. Most would just attempt to survive, to fight and flee. Others, such as Jack, had plans to regain their strength and fight the Thalmor using all of their manpower. Am I the only one who realizes the Thalmor has to be infected with dissension from within? To be destroyed from the inside as the seeds of discord grow to crumble the outside body as a whole. As a wounded creature, the Empire has a chance to destroy them.

The emperor turned to Vaultren: "Tribune Vaultren, why do you stand amongst these men? Have you something to say of them?"

Vaultren walked forth, bowing slightly as he took his arm to his briast. "My emperor," he said. "I not only stand among these men, but I stand against them as well."

He thought of his words carefully, not wanting to sound idiotic or make his decisions based on emotions.

"In the barracks of the Legion where they were hospitably held, I had stumbled upon an Altmer prisoner of theirs. I had more than a single source that claimed this man was among the Thalmor forces outside of the city. I pressed for discovery, so I had inquired the Altmer for an interrogation."

He began pacing around the room, hands behind his back.

"The Bosmer and the men that were with him were reluctant, but otherwise cooperative to the idea. It struck me as odd that they would support a Dominion soldier who walked among the Thalmor responsible for a number of atrocities."

Stopping in front of Faendal, Vaultren turned to face the man before looking back at the emperor. "Upon the interrogation, I was assaulted by members of this group, who openly stated that they supported the man being held for questioning. I will add that no harm came to them, my emperor, but the Altmer. Yet they insisted on committing treason against one of your appointed officers."

He did not stop there. He tried to look for something to reinforce his claim, something to back it up. Then he remembered, the nefarious Altmer himself! He looked around, remembering that the man had slipped unnoticed. Oh yes, he had always kept the eyes on that creature the moment he entered the palace. Though through a mere moment of distraction with Captain Lupus, he lost sight.

Extending his hand open in a gracious manner, Vaultren motion toward an empty space nearby Faendal. "Perhaps the question would be better asked toward the High Elf himself."

The soldiers within the palace all blinked and looked at each other, confused. Vaultren finally cracked a malicious smirk as his mouth slowly gaped open in mild awe. "Ah, his presence was possibly required elsewhere. Perhaps, upon realizing he would stand among the Emperor of the Empire whom he fought again, he fled the city to warn the Thalmor of our knowledge of their attack."

A seething venom as detected in the Tribune's voice as his teeth gnashed together. He whirled to Faendal, staring at the man. "Which is precisely why I wanted him for interrogation! And it's precisely why I would want these men to be executed for their treasonous actions in allowing a prisoner to escape."

He bowed his head to Titus Mede now. "Yet the command is yours, my emperor. I merely stand forth to speak on behalf."

[Jessica Stokes]

Waylas


"The emperor will see you now. Keep in mind who you speak to, elf." A Legionnaire said to the Bosmer as he approached the group. The Legionnaire then signaled a group of servants to open up a pair of double doors that led into the throne room. 'bout time' Waylas thought as him and the group moved through the doorway into the circular throne room. There sat the emperor alone on his throne. He stared out towards the group, the man was old and had become nothing but a shadow of his former self, much like the empire.

"Kneel before your emperor, the glorious Titus Mede the second!" A palace guard commanded the group. Waylas just stood there with his arms crossed refusing to kneel. "I said KNEEL!" The guard barked. Waylas then felt a hand force him to the ground. "Imperial Dog!" Waylas murmured to himself.

"You may rise" The emperor spoke as the group raised back to their feet. "You have word of the approaching Thalmor host, Bosmer? I trust your news is valuable enough to warrant my attention. Time is not something the Empire has to spare at this moment." The Emperor said impatinently.

The Bosmer then spoke up. "Yes, your... grace. We broke free of their encampment just last night, at the ruins of old Fort Homestead. The main host follows close behind; they will be on the city in days. The rest of the Altmeri strength has encircled the city to the north and east. They mean to finish this war, once and for all." The Bosmer then finished. The Emperor just silently nodded his head, showing little fear or anxiety of the approaching Aldemeri army approaching to destroy his entire city.

The man then turned his head towards the Tribune. "Tribune Vaultren, why do you stand amongst these men? Have you something to say of them?" The emperor asked. 'This should be good.' Waylas thought to himself. He had already become increasingly irritated by the Tribune's pompous attitude.

"My emperor," he said. "I not only stand among these men, but I stand against them as well." The Vaultren said. "In the barracks of the Legion where they were hospitably held, I had stumbled upon an Altmer prisoner of theirs. I had more than a single source that claimed this man was among the Thalmor forces outside of the city. I pressed for discovery, so I had inquired the Altmer for an interrogation."

"The Bosmer and the men that were with him were reluctant, but otherwise cooperative to the idea. It struck me as odd that they would support a Dominion soldier who walked among the Thalmor responsible for a number of atrocities." The Vaultren said. Waylas could already tell that this wasn't going to end well. He tried to look around for a possible exit but found none. The group were surrounded on all sides.

Vaultren then paced over next to Faednal. "Perhaps the question would be better asked toward the High Elf himself."

"Ah, his presence was possibly required elsewhere. Perhaps, upon realizing he would stand among the Emperor of the Empire whom he fought again, he fled the city to warn the Thalmor of our knowledge of their attack."

"Which is precisely why I wanted him for interrogation! And it's precisely why I would want these men to be executed for their treasonous actions in allowing a prisoner to escape." The Vaultren avowed. Waylas quickly grabbed the handle of his sword, he would rather make his last stand here than be locked up in a cell. There was no way Waylas was going back to an Imperial prison, as soon as the emperor declared them guilty he would make a run for the exit.

"Yet the command is yours, my emperor. I merely stand forth to speak on behalf." The Vaultren finished. Waylas kept his hand on his sword, ready to pull out at any second. Now he waited for the emperor's response.

[Spaceman]

Captain Jack lupus

At last, the time had come for the meeting to take place. Faendal, Vaultren and his rest of the escaped prisoners were admitted entrance to the grand Imperial palace along with Jack who followed from the side.

Jack had been to the imperial palace before but was always impressed by the marvellous tapestries and exquisite decorations. Quickly the circular chamber was filled with all of the escaped prisoners, newcomers and Imperial legionnaires alike, all prostrating themselves before the Emperor.

Jack dropped to a single knee, bowing his head in deference of the Emperor; Jack was still very loyal to the emperor.
"You may rise," Titus Mede II said to all of those gathered in his presence. Jack rose to feet and took a seat, he would speak to emperor after Faendal but for now he would listen to what Faendal and his merry group of followers had to say to emperor… and what Vaultren would say….

"Yes, your... grace. We broke free of their encampment just last night, at the ruins of old Fort Homestead. The main host follows close behind; they will be on the city in days. The rest of the Altmeri strength has encircled the city to the north and east. They mean to finish this war, once and for all."

Fort homestead… that’s a day or two march away….

The emperor turned to Vaultren: "Tribune Vaultren, why do you stand amongst these men? Have you something to say of them?"
Yes I would like to hear this Jack though; he turned and looked at Vaultren to see his reaction…
Vaultren walked forth, bowing slightly as he took his arm to his briast. "My emperor," he said. "I not only stand among these men, but I stand against them as well."

"In the barracks of the Legion where they were hospitably held, I had stumbled upon an Altmer prisoner of theirs. I had more than a single source that claimed this man was among the Thalmor forces outside of the city. I pressed for discovery, so I had inquired the Altmer for an interrogation."

He began pacing around the room, hands behind his back.

"The Bosmer and the men that were with him were reluctant, but otherwise cooperative to the idea. It struck me as odd that they would support a Dominion soldier who walked among the Thalmor responsible for a number of atrocities."

Yes that is indeed odd…

Stopping in front of Faendal, Vaultren turned to face the man before looking back at the emperor. "Upon the interrogation, I was assaulted by members of this group, who openly stated that they supported the man being held for questioning. I will add that no harm came to them, my emperor, but the Altmer. Yet they insisted on committing treason against one of your appointed officers."

Extending his hand open in a gracious manner, Vaultren motion toward an empty space nearby Faendal. "Perhaps the question would be better asked toward the High Elf himself."

Huh?

"Ah, his presence was possibly required elsewhere. Perhaps, upon realizing he would stand among the Emperor of the Empire whom he fought again, he fled the city to warn the Thalmor of our knowledge of their attack."

There wasn’t any Altmer in there group when I met…. [censored]… The guy at the door….

"This is precisely why I wanted him for interrogation! And it's precisely why I would want these men to be executed for their treasonous actions in allowing a prisoner to escape."

Jack stood up “My emperor! We caught some Altmer scouts just outside perhaps this elf there was going to meet them, I have a few men stationed out there in case more showed up, perhaps we can captured this escaped elf.”

he approached Vaultren and stood behind him "If what you say is true, these people are traitors of the empire and should be punished But they have knowledge of the Thamlor which may be vital to the cites defense."

[Darlene DIllow]

Spoiler

Name: Renatus Scaro
Race: Imperial
Gender: Male
Age: 33
Sign: The Ritual
Home Country: Rihad, Hammerfell

Faction and Rank: Imperial Inspector, Waterfront Division
Faction Description: Imperial Inspectors serve as a more open-minded counterpart to the often brutish guardsmen of the city. Their work lies less in the busting of petty crime, but more in the inspection of fraudulent dealings in the market districts, the checking of all imports and exports from the city waterfront, and in rare cases the investigation into homicides or illegal cult activity.

Class: Wharf Rat
Class Description: The Wharf Rat is the physical embodiment of a sleazy night at the port. Rogueish, often charming, and often combustible. They personify traits of greed, hedonism, but also passion. A wharf rat wants to do whatever he can to improve his life situation; robbery being a stable option, but tales are smuggling and drug running are also common. Although frowned upon as opportunistic scum, a rat could care less. As long as there's drink in his hand and a woman in his bed at the end of the night, he'd gladly go up and kick the emperor in the royal septims. A history of bar room brawls and back alley knife-fights has ensure he can hold his own , but like a rat he would rather fight an enemy from behind, and above....whilst they were asleep.
Skills: Hand-to-Hand, Stealth, Blades, Acrobacy, and a keen, perceptive eye. Can drink a Nord under the table.

Appearance: Haggard and weary, but also somewhat chiselled and masculine. Has a well-defined face with a broad chin, flat nose, and dark black bags under a set of admittedly mean looking eyes. His facial hair lies in somewhere between a 5-o clock shadow and ratty bum-fluff; there's plenty of it buts it's thin, short and whispy looking. His skin looks like it's spent too much time around the salty sea air, and is rough and aged as consequence.

Hair: Fine and wavy, he ties it back in a shoulder-length rogue knot. Its an earthy brown, with signs of greying on the sides around the ears.
Eyes: deep and dark
Build: Scrawny, but fit enough for the job. His muscles are well-defined although by no means bulging. Broad shouldered with a thin waist and skinny legs. He has a tatt of a rat being drowned by a beggar on his right shoulder, as well as gold coins on all the knuckles of his right hand.

Personality: "A man who was happy with his fists" were the words spoken by a disgruntled bar wench in a formal complaint to the waterfront authority. Ren is naturally aggravated, often unfulfilled, and always discontented. His increasing drug habit has taken its toll both on his mind and body, and he knows it. He believes in the end justifying the means, and has a clear cut understanding of right and wrong....he just doesn't know on what end of the spectrum he sits and this causes his a deal of stress and anger. Although borderline psychopathic at times, he would never double cross someone who didn't have it coming.

Weapons: A cheap-looking medium length steel blade which is deceptively sharp. He had a merchant from the black marshes modify the hilt so it doubles as a set of brass knuckles making it look like an oversized trench-knife. He keeps an elven stilleto tucked into his boot.

Clothing: Standard issue chainmail Hauberk covered by a dirty-looking navy blue leather tunic belted over the top. The official insignia of the Imperial Waterfront Divison; an Imperial Galleon with a guardsmen helm looming over it, is stitched into both shoulder pads in black and gold. Standard leather greaves, knee-length black boots, and thick black wool gloves. Over the whole ensemble he wears a dark gray wool cloak complete with hood, navy blue lining just like his tunic.

Miscellaneous: He has two bags clipped onto his belt. One is a unexceptional red velvet coinpurse. The other is a medium-sized doeskin pouch with a buckle. Inside lies the true trappings of his personality: usually 3 or 4 bottles of skooma, a tourniquet, small bottles of flin, sujamma, or whatever else he manages to "confiscate" from merchant vessels, tobbaco and matches, and a small hand lantern plus oil.

Magic: None, other than the ability to turn the undead for a short time owing to his birthsign.

History: Born to poor Imperial merchants in Rihad, Renatus grew up amongst the docks. It was a rough upbringing, but he wouldn't of traded it for anything else. A boy who loved his parents, he grew into a introverted man following his father leaving in the night without word when he was 14. Some part of him believed his dad dead, killed by Rihad moneylenders. The other parts of him were too focused on getting drunk.... or high off many of the otherworldly substances brought into the port illegally from pirate vessels. When he joined the Imperial Legion at 24 he was nursing a strong addicition to Moon Sugar and a resentful temperament to boot. Busting smugglers on the wharf promoted him as a righteous man whilst also secretly fuelling his substance abuse and hedonistic lifestyle on the side.

He barely missed the invasion of Hammerfell by Thalmor forces in 4e 171 having been transferred to the Imperial City for his experience working on the waterfront just weeks prior. Following word of the invasion, he spiralled deeper into skooma abuse...spending his nights passed out in his room above the dockside pub "the Loaded Dice". He has no idea what happened to his mum, and this is one of his biggest most well guarded fears.



Motivation for Joining: Soon to be: not dying.

OOC: tadaa

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Loaded Dice: Upper Floor

Warm sand cascaded over Renatus Scaro's body with a cleansing heat, washing out the black hatred in his mind with a pure energy rush. These were the moments he lived for, that blessed high that took away all your inhibitions, your fears, and your doubts. For a mere 30 minutes times were not dark, but abundantly clear. He cared not for the impending Thalmor conflict, and he didn't care much about what had happened to his mother either. For just 30 minutes, all was well in his introverted world. 30 minutes...

He lay on the floor of his dusty one room apartment, still as a stone and eyes glazed over. Lit candles dotted the room, battling the shadows with a weak orange light. The sounds of the tavern could be heard below, although only faintly. He was too busy staring at the cracks formed by rotting mildew in the ceiling to be eavesdropping on drunken conversation. Usually grotesque and messy looking , the skooma made them appear beautiful and natural, how the water dripped from them and fell into several small clay goblets placed on the floor. It was a moment he wouldn't of traded for anything else in the world, unless of course it was more skooma...or even the rare "red vine"; a particularly energetic little piece of fauna from the black marshes. He hadn't smoked that since a smuggling bust 2 months ago.

His door slammed open, the impact nearly shattering the rotten thing into damp splinters. He looked up over his stomach, his eyes straining to focus on the figure that was standing before him.

"Get Up"

Now there was a voice he recognised. Wilhelm Stell, obese pride of the Imperial Waterfront Division. A massive Breton with a head as small and bald as a pea and an ugly pencil moustache to match. The inspector immediately jumped to attention, kicking his substance apparatus under his bed and doing a half-hearted imperial salute.

"Sir"

"Talos would be ashamed" Wilhelm began. The man was an overzealous idiot to say the least. "This is the third time I've caught you in this...this state. Well let me make it clear Scaro, it's the last. Do you hear me? If I so much as catch a whiff of this foreign filth I will have you put before the council and your badge...and your head, will be mine to throw into the docks".

"Clear as crystal", and it was. The first time Stell had caught him he had copped a beating so fierce he couldn't run for a week. The second time was more or less a clip around the ears, and the third time a stern talking to? The fat man was losing his touch.

He was expecting more but Stell changed the subject. There must of been urgent business. "Does the name Waylas mean anything to you?".

Waylas? waylas....ahhh [censored] Im in no frame of mind to do this right now. Wait...no, waylas? Yes, yes a redguard...I think. Sounds Hammerfellian anyway. Scourge of the Imperial Navy if I remember correctly"

"Think so...why? Do we have a file on him?". The Imperials words sounded off-kilter and distanced.

"Aye. Filthy bugger just got spotted waltzing into the city with a bunch of ragtags and caused a scene in the chambers. Now their at the bloody palace, can you believe that? I would of drawn a blade across the throats of the lot if I was the captain of the watch I tells ye. Anyway, you know what to do. Check it out and report back, could be here on a smugglers agenda".

"Yes sir". He wasn't really mentally capable of saying much else. He grabbed a stack of files off his desk and shoved them into his belt-bag before donning his gloves and cloak and heading for the door, a slight stumble in his step. He was halfway through the doorway when the meaty fist of Stell grabbed him by the shoudler and spun him around.

"And Ren?"

"Yeah"

"I'm serious, get it together man...or Ill be grinding your bones to make my bread. Now get"

"Of course sir"

He started walking down the stairs, his pace beginning to quicken as he did so.

I bet you'd like to shove that bread right in your fat mouth you [censored] slob

[RObert loVes MOmmy]

Imperial City Barracks, 11th of Second Seed, 4E 174

Errialor

Errialor walked towards the gates leading to one of the other districts. He glanced nervously back, checking to see if anyone was coming after him. Nothing. I didn't think it'd take this long. Perhaps I'm not as important to them as I thought I was, thought Errialor. He moved swiftly, but did not run, lest those around grow too suspicious. He had to remain calm and casual. If I can get to the gates, I should have no trouble escaping. If I can do so before any pursuer spots me, I'll have some extra breathing time while they figure out which way I went.

Escaping carried many risks and many implications. First and foremost, it would make him a fugitive in the eyes of the Legion. For all they knew, he could be returning to the Thalmor. Even so, however, he was not too concerned. They would be easy enough to avoid, right now and in the future. He had more concern of how it would paint him in the eyes of the group he was with. They may have been his captors, but their leader, the Bosmer, saved him from the Legion and shielded him from any retribution. To them, this would seem like a betrayal, something very difficult to reconcile. But what they didn't know was that for him, nothing had changed. He was going to find a way to repay their courage. If that meant making him a traitor and pariah in their eyes, then so be it.

I should probably think more on the moment, rather than the future. I may not have a have a future if I don't focus on the now, he thought to himself, once again glancing back at the palace. No one yet. He turned back and almost walked straight into the gate. Yes, I should focus on the now. I don't want to get lost in thought right now. He pushed one of the doors open, slipping through. The massive gates closed behind him, and he found himself in a different part of the city. He took a deep sigh of relief, sure he had not been spotted, and looked around at where he had gone. From the look of it, he had entered a garden section of the city.

If he wasn't on the run he would have wanted to spend some time admiring the gardens. Right now, however, he had no such luxury. He began to move forward, hoping that there would be a gate out in this section of the city. You're almost out of here, just need to get a little further, he told himself. You've come too far to get caught now.

[Silencio]

The Imperial City, Cyrodiil - 11^th of Second Seed, 4E 174

Blood dripped from Faendal's hands as he listened to the Imperial speak, his fingernails biting deeply into his calloused palms. His face was a mask of rage, but for the moment there was nothing he could do. He knew he could not compete with the Tribune's oratory, and the evidence was against him besides. The only hope that remained to him, and the rest of his companions besides, lay behind the stoic face of the emperor, listening silently to Vaultren's every word. When the Imperial pointed out the Altmer's disappearance Faendal could not help but cringe; the very elf he had fought for- the reason behind their entire predicament- had abandoned them. 'And I can't say I blame him, bastard that he is.'

Suddenly the Imperial turned towards Faendal, the anger in his tone nearly matching the Bosmer's own. "Which is precisely why I wanted him for interrogation! And it's precisely why I would want these men to be executed for their treasonous actions in allowing a prisoner to escape."

'A prisoner that never would have had reason to escape if not for you, round ears,' the old soldier glared at the man, but remained silent as he finished his speech. Just as all eyes turned towards the emperor, another Imperial rushed forwards. “My emperor! We caught some Altmer scouts just outside, perhaps this elf there was going to meet them. I have a few men stationed out there in case more showed up, perhaps we can captured this escaped elf.”

The young soldier continued, stepping up beside Vaultren. "If what you say is true, these people are traitors of the empire and should be punished. But they have knowledge of the Thalmor which may be vital to the cites defense."

Faendal nodded briskly, joining the two Imperials before the emperor, seizing his chance to speak before the emperor made his judgment. "Your grace, the Tribune speaks the truth- at least so much as he understands." The old elf was stopped by another cough, but kept his dark eyes on the stone faced man seated before him. "It is true my company included this Altmer, but he was our prisoner, and under my own protection. As refugees we are protected by law until you yourself can pass judgment; the Tribune had no right to interrogate him."

The Bosmer shot a venomous glance towards the Imperial, but returned his gaze to the emperor quickly. "The elf himself was a member of the Dominion, yes, but a lowly scout; he knew nothing of the Thalmor's plots, and cannot be held responsible for their crimes. That he escaped before trial is criminal, yes, but perfectly reasonable. The boy feared for his life. War allows little mercy, I know, but this mer is no threat to you. He knows nothing the Thalmor do not, and his chances of reaching them are slim."

Faendal was beginning to feel weak, his throat raw and sore, but he pressed onwards. His words might be the only thing that could save the lives of those men behind him. "Your grace, now is not the time to think of such petty differences. We have a common enemy. Let us fight them with you, as sellswords in your army. Our numbers may be small, but as your own man has said, we know much of how the Thalmor operate. Let us fight beside you, and save this glorious city."

The entire chamber was silent. Faendal's voice had given out at the end; the speech he had rested all their hopes on had ended in a gravelly whisper. Yet still, that whisper echoed throughout the grand marble chamber. Every face was turned towards the emperor, still sitting straight upon his hard throne. Finally, after what felt like years, the Imperial stood. His luxuriant robes fell behind him, his crown gleaming in the light. Emperor Mede's eyes fell across Faendal and his men, still cold as stone, and a shiver ran down the Bosmer soldier's spine.

"Tribune Vaultren, you have staked your word against these refugees, naming them enemies of this great empire. For their crimes, the usual punishment has always been death." The words hung, like a vile miasma, in the air. Faendal, toughened as he was by years of blood and war, felt a cold pit of fear settle in his gut. "And yet," the emperor continued, stepping off his marble dais, "These are not usual times. Captain Faendal, you claim knowledge of the Dominion's forces, something not even my loyal Tribunes can provide." The emperor looked to Vaultren, not unkindly, before carrying on. "If you- and your men- swear their allegiance to the Ruby Throne, and make solemn oath to serve the Empire, I may find reason to pardon your crimes."

The Bosmer could not believe his ears. 'Pardon,' he thought ecstatically, a smile rising unbidden to his lips. Only his pride kept him from kneeling then and there, thanking the emperor for his mercy. He had been nearly certain of his death, and now- for the second time- he had been given life again.

"That is not to say the Empire has forgotten them, however," the emperor continued, now only a few feet away from the Bosmer. "You will serve me, and if they agree your men shall fight beside my own, but you are not free of guilt. You have resisted arrest, allowed an enemy within the city, and assaulted an officer of the Empire. These crimes can only be purged in the fire of battle; if the Nine deem you worthy you may survive to enjoy your freedom. But only if."


OOC: I'll go ahead and end there for convenience sake. I apologize to everyone for maginalizing interaction once again; we just needed to get through this scene. If anyone has something to say feel free, Faendal isn't the only member of the company afterall. Any of you can step forward and make claim for yourself. Perhaps by reminding the emperor that the crimes of one crazy Bosmer are not the crimes of everyone that happened to be with him.