[Dean]

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

"Bosmer, I don't think we ever had time to exchange greetings." Faendal looked back, breaking away from the haughty captain. He raised one thick brown eyebrow, but let the orc continue. My birth name is Saraam Ko'Daas, but you may choose to call me by my perquisite alias, Ermac. I just want to extend my gratitude to you for help me, and for helping us. Without you we wouldn't have made it out."

The Bosmer took a moment to respond; it had been so long since he had had a real conversation with anyone. Even longer since he had last had warriors that respected him. "I could say the same for you, Ermac," the old soldier replied, cracking a thin smile. His eyes, however, stayed black as ever. "I am known as Faendal, in the Imperial tongue. It's good to know we have warriors I can trust," he added, nodding in respect to the old orc. "I expect we haven't seen the last of those Thalmor bastards. Even the famous Imperial City is not safe these days."

Faendal paused, uncertain of what else to say. He was in no mood to delve into personal matters, yet smalltalk just seemed so trite. How could one talk about the weather when their comrades had just died to Aldmeri swords? He was saved the embarrassment, however, when another of their number approached him: the Altmer prisoner they had captured along the way.

"I don't understand," the elf began softly, almost hesitant. "Why didn't you give me to the Legion? What do you want with me?"

Faendal looked the Altmer up and down, his eyes narrowing as he considered his response. The elf wore no chains, but he was a prisoner just as surely as they had been, and he knew it. At first the old Bosmer had taken him for information, hoping to learn more of the Thalmor's plans, but he doubted the young soldier knew any more than he did. He had planned to give the elf up to the Legion as soon as they found them, but when the moment came Faendal couldn't bring himself to do it. Not out of compassion for the elf, certainly not, but something held him back. Perhaps it was the gods, trying to tell him something. Perhaps the gold skinned whelp still had a part to play in all this.

"You are my prisoner," Faendal finally replied, just as quietly as the elf had been, "That means I decide whether you live or die, not the emperor. We still have rough times ahead; we may yet have a use for you. Until then, however, you are not to leave my sight. If you so much as flinch without my say so, you'll be dead before you can say 'Dominion', and that's if I'm feeling nice." The Bosmer's eyes were at their coldest, his scarred face dark, threatening despite the fact he was staring almost directly up at the elf. "If not," he continued, smiling wickedly, "I may just tell the Legion who you really are, and let their torturers decide what to do with you."


OOC: Not much of a post, but against my better judgment I decided to respond instead of studying for my Psychology test. Hopefully that helps interaction in the red group until we have the chance to skip ahead and meet the others. Awesome job, by the way, loving the activity. Keep up the good work.

[meghan lock]

Ra'Kharr, Imperial City, Market District

The Khajiit listened to the alien tongue as it filled his tufted ears. They twitched in disappointment and self-consciousness. He took a another bite into the fruit which he had not yet wrapped his head around, and felt hard, crunchy bits break beneath his teeth. Disgusted, he spit out black seeds. Looking at the fruit in confusion, he threw it on the ground, tossing it over his shoulder. He stood up, stretching his arms. It attracted the attention of everyone at the table, as if their eyes were drawn to his movement. Even Dar'Dato, who had been "sleeping" had his head up and his hands ready. Ra'Kharr nodded at his friends and followers, opening his mouth to speak.

"I distaste this city. Let us retire to a quieter corner of this labyrinth. When the sun is higher in the sky we will be--" Ra'Kharr had been instructing in Ta'agra when he noticed someone approaching them from the corner of his eye. He furrowed his brow in confusion and in defense, unaware of what the purpose of this approach was. All of the Khajiits now watched the newcomer with defensive eyes and wary stares. She opened her mouth to speak something that was completely alien to the Khajiit. His ears twitched again, unable to recognize the language. Suddenly, from under the table, a terrible hiss could be heard.

Jo'Raksha, an alfiq, was no larger than an average housecat. However his natural affinity with mysticism allowed him to understand the woman's words. The Khajiit was proficient in telepathic speech, and did not share the language barriers among normal beings. Ra'Kharr looked at Jo'Raksha in confusion and startlement. If Jo'Raksha did not favour this woman, then he doubted that the rest of the Krin would.

Ra'Kharr, she called us 'moving rugs'. Jo'Raksha told him over a telepathic link, secure to only himself and the Alfiq. Ra'Kharr's eyes opened wide in astonishment and anger. Pride filled him, and anger blistered within his being. The Alfiq began to spread the message around, telling everyone what she had said. Ra'Kharr slowly stood up, not breaking eye contact with the woman. Do'Rakha stood up quickly and violently, spilling the chair that he had been sitting in. He didn't move, though, he would wait for his master to talk first. Dro'Ba, who was the closest to the woman, and the largest in the group, would look at the woman in complete rage, but sit there. Dar'Dato was suddenly on the table, as if he had been there the whole time, knives suddenly in his hands. Ra'Kharr would reach inside the small, tan robe that he wore, not long enough to get halfway down his thighs, and procured two gloves. They were padded on the outside, but on the outside, solid steel was plated in sections. Krijin Kraw, a Khajiiti martial art passed down through generations, was a discipline that Ra'Kharr had mastered and was extremely proficient in.

He slowly walked up to the woman, and took a stance. His right foot was slightly more forward than his left, but both were shoulder length. He bent his knees slightly, as if ready to bounce in any direction. His right arm was slightly extended, a bend in his elbow, and his shoulder relaxed. His left arm, which was not the dominant, was somewhat less extended. All in all, Ra'Kharr looked like a force ready to fight.

In his training, he remembered learning the word 'battle' in every language. It was customary of Khajiits becoming masters, so that he could offer and accept any fight coming his way.

"Battle." he said in perfect Cyrodiilic.

...

Do'Rakha noticed a Khajiit approaching them from the corner of his eye. The Khajiit looked Imperialized and city-born, but the words with which he spoke gave the Martial Arts Master a different idea.

"Got a spare seat?" asked the Khajiit in fluent Ta'gra. His accent reminded him of the seamen that rode upon huge vessels, carrying goods and such to far-along places. Do'Rakha didn't take his eyes of Ra'Kharr and the scum-woman, but he extended his right arm out fully, palm facing the Khajiit.

"Hold, fellow Khajiit, this lady disrespects the Khajiit and our home."

[Sweet Blighty]

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


Lycus had finished his food, and his conversation with Benalin as well. All he required was an opponent. He recalled he had plenty of men in the Bloodworks to fight; friends and enemies alike. Allies and rivals. He thought about it all, finishing the last of his meal with a large chug of the clay jug. Who could he choose to fight?

Benalin stared at Lycus, annoying the Imperial even more, causing him to growl and swear. “Fie Bosmer! Take your leave.”

The skittish Mer scrambled off, still massaging his genitals as he limped off. Just then, Lycus heard a clapping coming off from nearby. He remembered the show-off Imperial, who seemed to hunger for attention and fame. It would be hypocrisy for Lycus to admit he never wanted the same things. But he took such things to a greater degree of honor.

“Well how about a drink then? Since you’ve impressed me with such dignity and courage.“ the Imperial said as he rose from his seat, introducing himself as Kai. “The name’s Kai Xerosa and your description of me as ‘shady’ probably weren’t far wrong. I’d probably guess you’re not from around here, or else you’d more than likely recognize the name.”

There it was again. That particular desire to be known. It peeved Lycus so much, that it roused the muscular Imperial from his seat. He moved toward the Kai and Tyranus, slowly bumping into the tavern wench who gasped as she nearly dropped a plate as he passed on. He gripped her on the hips gently, slowly maneuvering himself around her as he continued to walk on with a spear in one hand.

Finally, he emerged behind them. Speaking in a low voice, not to rouse any attention. He was not enamored by such things, at least not in a tavern. “The pup bares it’s teeth, eager to take a bit of fame.”

Lycus sat by Tyranus, setting his spear to lay against the wall, not quite looking at Kai. His hand touched Ty on the shoulder, squeezing it tightly with his fingers. The long-haired Imperial then looked at Kai, his expression neutral. “Yet fame can be earned in places not as low as a tavern nor against doltish boys playing at being men.”

He scratched the hairs beneath his chin before he ordered water. “Praise from tavern spectators is pale comparison to the cheering crowd of the arena. Women’s thighs moisten at the sight of a gladiator, as men are made to envy them. Surely you wish glory beneath the eyes of the city, rather than the drunks who will forget your name and face as rooster crows. I invite you to the Arena. When blood is the purpose, I hold no doubt you would seek interest in battle. The lust for battle is fresh in a virgin who has not been tested in the arena.”

The tavern wench slid a clay cup to him full of water. Lycus snatched it, taking a sip before setting it down. “Prove your worth in proper contest among the titans of blood and sand. Against me.”

The myrmidon wasn't quite sure if he himself wanted to fight Kai. What glory would there be in fighting a fresh pit dog? One who lacked the mark of seasoned gladiators? Perhaps alongside Lycus, but never against. He believed in opportunities. Perhaps the loss of a finger or a hand could teach Kai to learn manners, or perhaps he will emerge victor in the team and earn the mob's favor? It did not matter. Lycus was interested in seeing was this individual was made of. He wanted to see what seized his mind to believe himself above Tyranus or anyone else for that matter.
　
　

[nath]

Karzon looked between them as the males all were up on their feet with weapons drawn. The..leader of the group removing a pair of leather gloves with metal attached to one side. Almost immediately upon hearing that Illana had insulted them he did a double face palm. He was far from Imperialized despite the white shirt and long dark slacks he sported for the time being. "Alright.." he started. He walked forward and put his foot between the pair, Ra'kharr and Illana not wanting to see the Imperial woman get her face planted into the ground and have her teeth literally pulled out from the pavement with pliers he spoke up.

Trying to keep himself calm but in a firm tone. "Illana, apologize for whatever insult you have made to them... Now. Last thing that needs to be done is you get arrested for fighting in the streets, I doubt you have any coin to pay for the fine involved." he looked to the khajiit who had taken a stance he had seen before from members of his own cell "Let the fur-less one go on this. She, Myself and a group of others in the city have spent a long few days in Thalmor captivity and living it wild while trying to get here, the last thing we need, last thing I bet the city guards want is more violence." he said in Ta'agra, obviously trying hard to play peace keeper in this, especially as a pair of guards nearby stopped to observe the incident as it unfolded.

[Michelle Serenity Boss]

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


It seemed that her words somehow sparked a certain animosity in not only one, but all the other ones. A simple tease from her mouth caused all of them to seethe and frown at the sight of her. She watched with keen eyes, each offering her an expression of hate and hostility. Yet what baffled her for only a second was the moment one of the Khajiiti males stood up with violence, knocking a drink over as he did it. Soon after, another feline also rose up, but he searched into his pockets, bringing to light two gloves which were plated on the edges. It did not take anything else for her to know what was happening. To her advantage, she was not entirely helpless either with her light steel armor and her serrated-edged gauntlets. But armor could only do so much. She knew skill and prowess was of importance beyond the protection the outfit offered.

The moment he stared her in the eye, Illana found it impossible to take her own eyes away. As a canine or a wolf, she felt challenged by the stare. Her own eyes went wide as a large scowl drew upon her face. Irony, it seemed, that a cat would challenge her to a fight. Has the tables of the wilderness finally turned?

While the khajiit language was alien to her, she only knew a few words spoken by them by the time working around Skooma dealers and sugar smugglers. She managed to say it in near fluent Ta’agra, knowing whatever else followed would be atrocious for feline ears to hear or endure.

“Khaj Renrij.” she suddenly in hiss. Her neck craned from side to side, cracking loud and audibly as it twisted from left to right. She watched her opponent adopt a fighting stance she wasn’t quite familiar with. She would lie to say it didn’t faze her a bit, for she feared failure. But her fear was quickly devoured by a pulsing hunger for blood and violence triggered by the challenge.


In response to his beginning form, she began her own stance which was mixed with other various arts of combat. Though all of them were compatible with each other; Goutfang for kicks and punches, basic Nordic style of defense using blocks and parries. And the Cycle of Blood, a relic of a Redguard fighting art which used both offense and defense in often fatal ways. Everything she had in her power was simple; Strength, speed, coordination, agility and balance.

She was prepared, just as her adversary was. Being the daughter of a former male gladiator and a female Bounty Hunter had it’s charms. And she waited, gathering her inner strengths and abilities which would instinctively kick in, controlling her mind and body without hesitation, guiding her every move and strike. She awaited for the Khajiit to make his move. He started the challenge, he would most definitely make the first strike.

As they were about to begin, the khajiit Karzon entered the scene. Him again? she growled in realization. He tried to break up the fight, claiming he did not want to see her get arrested when she lacked the proper gold to pay fo her release. When in Oblivion did you care what happens to me? She wasn't taken aback, neither did she feel any sympathy. For she knew deep inside he wasn't doing this because he feared her going to prison, a place where she had been before at the age of twenty, but because he did not have any faith in her fighting capabilities. She managed to run her hands on her forehead, sliding them back towards her hair as she puffed out a sigh.

"Let the fur-less one go on this. She, Myself and a group of others in the city have spent a long few days in Thalmor captivity and living it wild while trying to get here, the last thing we need, last thing I bet the city guards want is more violence."

Illana managed to chuckle sarcastically at the words. Fur-less one, how amusing. She was pretty sure she saw fur growing out of her ears one time, or at least she had been told. She stared angrily at each and every cat in the place, growling at each and every one of them.

"You always have a representative try to negotiate before you begin a fight? Small wonder why the Thalmor has had your people bent over, tails lifted and legs spread. Apologize you ask of me? I'm afraid I will not do the same, Karzon."

It wasn't meant to only spite them, but to make them realize something. She did find it strange when Karzon wanted to avoid violence when he proved to be a cunning warrior back in the Thalmor prison. And he told her to apologize. Oblivion take me if I am to feel sorry for my actions. She pointed a finger out toward the city and beyond.

"The Thalmor advance, yet you play politics and sit around stuffing your whiskers with fruits. You want a 'battle', then wait a day or two. I find you will have a far greater force worthy of your time than a single Imperial woman."

[Farrah Barry]

Tyranus Florentius
Merchant's Inn

Ty watched as the man got up and took a few steps towards him. 'Well [censored], I guess I'll be getting a matching set of black eyes after all.' Ty thought, his grip on the dagger tightening. He wasn't going to take the beating lying down, so he was at least going to put up some semblance of a fight. “Well how about a drink then? Since you’ve impressed me with such dignity and courage.” Ty heard him say, exhaling softly, relieved at his misreading of the situation. The man's tone had changed significantly, and Ty figured he had nothing more to fear. “The name’s Kai Xerosa and your description of me as ‘shady’ probably weren’t far wrong. I’d probably guess you’re not from around here, or else you’d more than likely recognise the name.”

"Typically it's described as stupidity, but your labeling of it makes me sound much more...regal. A drink would be great, much better than my own blood in any case." Ty said, his hand coming away from the dagger. Upon further examination, this guy looked like he had been through the ringer, and recently at that. 'Why the hell is he picking fights with idiots like me if he's just had an obviously good fight? Trying to redeem himself after a loss?'Ty wondered, deciding it was better to let it lie. He only pissed off people that gave him reason to, typically he was quite the nice guy. "I'm Tyranus Florentius, Ty to most. Sorry, your name doesn't seem familiar, but I'm from Chorrol, so that might well be why."

“The pup bares it’s teeth, eager to take a bit of fame.” Tyranus turned at the familiar voice, and watched as Lycus sat next to him, putting his spear against the wall as he did so. The Imperial put his hand on Ty's shoulder, squeezing it tightly. He didn't quite know what to make of the gesture. It could have been a friendly greeting, but Ty got the feeling it was more to put him at ease. That came along with a lance of irritation from being considered someone needing looking after. In Thalmor captivity, it was a different story. But in a familiar situation like a tavern, Ty could handle himself just fine in a battle of words and wits.

Despite this, Ty was happy to see his fellow former-prisoner. He flashed Lycus a quick grin. "Hey, Lycus," he started, his tone cheerful "Good to see you, I'm just now getting acquainted with this fellow here, no need to worry. We've moved past the stage of intimidation, onto that of intoxication." Lycus was still looking at Kai, his expression seemingly neutral, but Ty could read something else in him, and he wondered what that might be.

Still looking at Kai, Lycus spoke “Yet fame can be earned in places not as low as a tavern nor against doltish boys playing at being men.”

Ty pulled his shoulder away, giving the other Imperial a peeved look. "Damn, and here I thought I had handled that pretty well." Ty said, irritated about Lycus' comment. Doltish? Maybe. However Ty did not play at being anything. He didn't delude himself into believing he was a man's man, but he did think he was about as close as he could be. Ty possessed all the qualities, he just needed the maturity.

As Ty listened, he realized Lycus was planning to fight Kai. It seemed obvious. Both were very outwardly the fighting type, and Ty could see them fighting anyone. He wondered how Kai would respond, as well as who would win such a battle. He knew Lycus a little better, and had seen some of what he could do, but apparently Kai was good as well, so nothing was assured. All he knew for sure is that he wouldn't want to be stuck in the ring with either of them.

[Josephine Gowing]

Rashaava
Imperial City, Market District/Merchant's Inn

Rashaava weaved his way through the throng of people, headed toward the Merchant's Inn. Finally reaching the door, he entered, and was greeted by the dank, smelly interior that was a bit too crowded for his liking. Quickly scanning the room, he noted that most of the tables were occupied, due to the district's increased traffic. On a sunlit couch sat a young-looking Imperial absentmindedly twirling a knife, but none of the other occupants seemed to be doing anything out of the ordinary. As he took a step further into the murk, the Argonian caught the faintest whiff of some odd odor. Is that... some sort of dog? He quickly determined that there was no such creature present, but by that time the scent had dissipated. Odd.

Being careful not to disturb any of the patrons, Rashaava made his way toward the back, where he was able to see an alchemy table. Finally, a familiar sight.

Arriving at the table, Rashaava opened his apothecary's satchel and removed his newly aquired frost salts, some mushrooms, a few aloe leaves, a pouch of peony seeds, and a small alchemist's knife. After lighting the burner to start boiling the water, he quickly ground the seeds and dumped the result into the water. As the water heated up, he deftly used the knife to separate the mushrooms into the useful caps and worthless stems, which he put aside. He now had to wait a few minutes for the water to boil. As he did so, he heard something over the dull roar of the patrons. Turning, he saw that a rough-looking Imperial sitting at a table had said something to the one with the knife about handling it in public. The one on the couch responded quite calmly, but the other occupants had resumed their conversations, making it difficult for Rashaava to hear exactly what was said. It was then that the water came to a boil, drawing his attention again.

He quickly poured half of the peony base into an alembic, and then replaced the boiler after tossing in the mushroom caps. Being careful to avoid the spines, he slowly and precisely crushed the thick aloe leaves by hand to bring out the sticky juice. Satisfied, he added them to the alembic and allowed them to soak. After the boiling mushroom mixture had evaporated to half its original volume, he quickly removed it from the flame and poured in the frost salts. The brownish liquid cooled instantaneously, and small flecks of frost began to form on the outside. After allowing it to settle, Rashaava poured the mixture, now a light blue, into a retort which he used to siphon off the very thin layer of usable liquid at the top into an empty vial, which he replaced on the strap across his chest. He then emptied what was left in the retort into a nearby disposal bucket, and repeated the process with the aloe solution, being able to extract two vials of potion. A poison to freeze my prey's blood, and some mixture to bolster my endurance; that should last me until I return in a fortnight.

While it must have taken at least five minutes to prepare the three vials, it had felt almost instantaneous. Dismissing the observation, Rashaava collected his materials and turned around. When he did so, he noticed that Benilan had entered the inn and was talking with a black-haired Imperial sitting at a table with what appeared to be a large plate of meat; the Elf seemed distressed for some reason. What's he up to now? Probably swindling that man somehow, although he doesn't seem like the type that likes to be messed with. I should keep an eye on him, and see if I can determine what scam he is trying to pull.

Rashaava bought a mug of mead from the publican and sat in a corner to watch the exchange. The seated man was obviously annoyed by the Elf's presence, but seemed to agree to something before shooing him away. Rashaava sighed and was about to stand when the man approached the two Imperials from earlier, and softly uttered something to the pair. Taking a last sip of the passable mead, the Argonian stood and slowly made his way toward the group. When Rashaava reached the couch, the two older Imperials seemed tense, as though they were on the verge of an argument or brawl. Not wanting to interrupt, he stood calmly to the side, watching the man whom Benalin had spoken with. I must warn him of the Elf's predicament and unscrupulous tendencies, lest he unwittingly become involved in this unfortunate situation.

[roxxii lenaghan]

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

Faendal turned away from both the Aldmeri prisoner and his Orsimer companion, striding forward back to the front of the column with a dour expression. Their party was nearly at the city now; the captain had already sent runners to open the great gates. Faendal glanced up towards the growing walls with a hard eye, his mind already drawing up figures of their dimensions and weaknesses. 'Old habits,' he thought, returning his attention to the tall iron doors before him.

"Hail, captain!" the guards flanking the doors rose their arms in salute to the returning patrol, their armor shining in the growing sunlight. Captain Lucius returned their salute with a crisp hand, nodding them to ease before turning towards Faendal.

"I must bring my report to White Gold immediately; you will be led to your temporary quarters by my second, Marcus." Another Imperial stepped forward from the column of soldiers, nodding at his captain and Faendal before standing at respectful attention."Your men may rest there, or, as I said, tour about the city. Cause any trouble, however, and there will be consequences. Are we understood, elf?"

The old Bosmer's eyes narrowed at the Imperial's tone, but his voice remained respectful. "We have had our fair share of trouble already, Imperial," Faendal replied, "All we seek are warm beds. Inform me when the emperor summons us."

The captain's face hardened, his slate gray eyes meeting Faendal's black ones, neither willing to step down. Marcus, the Imperial's second, shifted uncomfortably beside the two captains; the other soldiers hands crept towards their swords, their eyes trained on the impetuous Bosmer facing off against their commander. Finally, Captain Lucius broke the silence, chuckling softly before turning back towards the now open gates. "Fair enough, Faendal was it? If the emperor agrees to see you I will send for you. Until then enjoy the greatest city in Tamriel."

With that the captain strode off, past the gates, into the bustling streets of the city. Faendal watched him disappear into the crowd, the plebeians parting just enough to let the soldier through. Lucius' patrol followed quickly after him, marching in time down a different street, no doubt seeking their own beds. Soon Faendal was left with only his own sorry band of prisoners turned soldiers, the two Imperial guards, and the captain's second, Marcus. "Would you like to go to your barracks now, Captain Faendal?" the young man asked, his hands still clasped behind his back.

'Captain?' Faendal thought, smiling to himself, 'It's been quite a while since I heard that.' The old Bosmer looked towards his companions, meeting a few of their eyes, before nodding. "Yes, I think we deserve a bit of a rest before our audience. Lead on, Marcus."



OOC: Crappy post, without any interaction whatsoever, but it had to be done. We're going to go ahead and timeskip to the barracks, for those of you that aren't already in the marketplace. If you want to join up with the others there and skip the barracks entirely, feel free; if you would like to join Faendal feel free to post yourself into the barracks, I'll be joining you shortly. Whatever it is you want to do, everyone should be on the same page now, so if you were waiting for the opportunity to join the yellow group now is the time.

To everyone that is signed up but has yet to post, I will be PMing you shortly. If you can, please let me know what is keeping you, and if I can do anything to help. Thank you.

[Anthony Rand]

Character Sheet, for reference.

Spoiler

Name: Kai Xerosa
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Race: Imperial
Birthsign: Steed

General Appearance: Despite his rough and ready appearance Kai maintains a very masculine attractiveness about him. His scruffy face is often covered in a varying amount of wounds, dry blood and dirt. His nose is broken in several places and scars are scattered across his olive coloured skin. His eyes are light blue colour and his hair a jet black. Slicked back and kept clear of his face. Rarely clean shaven, the lower half of Kai’s face is often shrouded in a shadow of stubble, with sideburns connecting his thin beard to his thick hair. Kai isn’t exactly tall standing at only 5’10, though he is extremely well-built with an athletic and toned body achieved through years of combat training and experience. Kai has very few noticeable scars as his skin tends to heal very well, however it is rare to see Kai without some form of scar or wound at any given time.

Skills: Kai is a master of combat, in particular his speed, stamina, agility and sheer aggression give him the upper hand in most fights. It is not unknown for Kai to lose a fight although this is usually down to extreme fatigue or unconsciousness, as his incredible resilience and refusal to back down keep him fighting even when he is on his last limb. Kai tends to steer clear of using weapons and allows his body to do most of the work, after years of working in the field of martial arts; he is somewhat an expert and can even face those who are armed on equal ground. When it comes to magical ability Kai is powerless, he has no idea how to begin to use the arcane arts and instead turns a blind eye to its practise. Kai is very agile and his acrobatic ability allows him to manoeuvre himself extremely well, both in and out of combat. Years of martial arts training have made him extremely flexible and as a result Kai is an able gymnast. Despite his combat prowess, in warfare Kai is not as skilled as an average soldier. One-on-one combat is very different to tactical warfare, and Kai’s inability to take orders from anyone makes it harder for him to work in a team and perform as part of a unit.

Apparel: Kai takes little pride in his appearance and tends to wear whatever he can find that morning, never sticking to a favourite outfit or using different clothes for specific events. Usually this results in some sort of linen shirt and leather pants, although this can vary depending on what part of the world he resides in at the time. Due to his excessive travelling Kai tends to prefer comfort over protection and even when fighting will never wear any heavy armour, such as steel or iron. He finds these too restrictive and prefers lighter armours such as leather or in some colder parts of the world fur. Kai is often to be found engaging in combat in normal linen or cloth clothes, as this allows him to utilise his speed and agility more so than any other apparel.

Weapons: “Weapons are for the weak.” Kai rarely uses weapons when it comes to combat. Though he has been known to use a bow and the occasional short sword or dagger the only weapon he carries with him is a small knife, which even still is mainly used for hunting and skinning his dinners. Kai uses his body as his weapon, his fists are scarred and his knuckles bruised. Kai is capable, through years of training to throw a fierce punch and is also known to use a variety of kicks and blocks which allow him to combat with the most experienced of opponents.

Personality: “Scars themselves are the lessons of life, left permanently on your mind, body and soul; you have never truly won a fight if the enemy cannot do as much as to lay a finger on your flesh.” Headstrong and extremely over-confident, Kai is not invincible, something he believes himself to be. Kai revels in his aggressive nature, actively seeking out trouble and violence to show off his skill and humiliate his enemies. Rude and arrogant, Kai has very few friends and many enemies, Kai knows that he is a loner but he doesn’t seem to mind and instead takes unusual pleasure from his own company. Behind his mindless and scruffy exterior hides a brutal, impulsive, and savage killer with an excessively-violent lust for blood. Kai knows exactly what he is doing by causing trouble and does it often simply for kicks. He makes no effort to hide his personality and it doesn’t take much to recognise that Kai is impulsive and ruthless. In battle Kai has an inhumane lust for blood; aggressive and determined many people would rather avoid any conflict with such a character. Kai is also extremely resilient and is barely ever seen to back down even in cases where he has been vastly overcome. Kai revels in the challenge of combat, enjoying being backed into a corner and having to fight his way out. Despite his violent and psychotic nature, Kai is not inherently evil. Deep down it is probable that Kai does have a conscience, shown partially through the fact that he will rarely attack or engage in combat with those who are weaker than him, be it women or children. Though he personally considers this to be down to the fact that they are unworthy of his effort – this could be a cover up for some sentient considerations.

Background: Kai has his roots in Bravil, it was where he was born and raised by his single mother. A skooma addict who had little income and rarely enough time to give Kai the attention or care that he properly needed. This goes some way to explain his erratic behaviour and his aggresive individualism. His childhood was spent mostly in the underground world of Bravil, mixing and involving himself with those in crime and violence. Kai fought in what was an illegal gambling arena sticking mainly to boxing and fights without rules. Here the richer members of the city would place money on fights that were both extremely bloody and often resulted in death. When the Thalmor armies first invaded, Kai decided to move away from Bravil, spending some time on the road before heading onto the Imperial City, where he continued his now practised line of work, for much greater money - although at a greater risk. Kai Xerosa, in the underworld of the Imperial City is fast becoming a renowned name, and his reputation is ever increasing.

Kai Xerosa
Merchant’s Inn – Market District
Morning - 11th Second Seed 4E 174


Moving towards the Imperial man Kai grabbed an empty chair in his path and swung it into position next to the man’s table, seating himself and awaiting the man’s reply.

"Typically it's described as stupidity, but your labelling of it makes me sound much more...regal. A drink would be great, much better than my own blood in any case. "I'm Tyranus Florentius, Ty to most. Sorry, your name doesn't seem familiar, but I'm from Chorrol, so that might well be why."

Kai acknowledged the man’s answer and stood up to go to the bar. The fact that his name had not reached Chorrol was only a good thing; he didn’t want to alert the law to his line of work.

“What’d you want to drink Ty?” Kai asked,

Before the Imperial could reply however, it was the other man that Kai had noticed, that had moved closer to the now seated pair and butted in on their conversation.

“The pup bares its teeth, eager to take a bit of fame.”

Kai turned his head to notice one man place his hand on the other’s shoulder. They were obviously acquainted, revealed by the fact that Ty addressed the Imperial as ‘Lycus’ and Kai couldn’t help but smirk at the man’s assumption.

“Yet fame can be earned in places not as low as a tavern nor against doltish boys playing at being men.” Lycus continued, although his comment seemed to irritate Ty, who swiftly removed Lycus’ hand from his shoulder. Kai’s ears pricked up at what sounded to him like an offer, knowing that he could never refuse a fight.

“Praise from tavern spectators is pale comparison to the cheering crowd of the arena. Women’s thighs moisten at the sight of a gladiator, as men are made to envy them. Surely you wish glory beneath the eyes of the city, rather than the drunks who will forget your name and face as rooster crows. I invite you to the Arena. When blood is the purpose, I hold no doubt you would seek interest in battle. The lust for battle is fresh in a virgin who has not been tested in the arena.”

Kai wasn’t so keen on the idea of the Arena, for it was not true as Lycus has suggested that he ever fought for fame. In fact, Kai did his best to avoid fame, seeking infamy and respect amongst those who would admire him for his ability to fight rather than his entertainment value. However, the Imperial was right in that he was interested in a fight; although against what looked a mean looking spear Kai wasn’t sure he’d stand much of a chance.

“As much as I admire your guts Imperial”, Kai addressed his words to Lycus, “I fear that the arena is not for me. I do not seek fame, as you suggest, yet simply the thrill to fight. I won’t deny you a helping hand if you so wish, perhaps next to you the people won’t notice me as much but to fight you and inevitably win would do me no favours.”

His confidence came out in droves as he spoke, although judging by what Kai had seen so far Lycus clearly wasn’t lacking in confidence himself. Kai wasn’t sure whether Lycus had meant fight alongside or against Kai in the first place, yet Kai was unsure that he would accept his new offer.

[noa zarfati]

Lycus Desselius, The Imperial City, Cyrodiil, Merchant's Inn-
11^th of Second Seed. 4E 174

"Hey, Lycus," Tyanus started, his tone cheerful "Good to see you, I'm just now getting acquainted with this fellow here, no need to worry. We've moved past the stage of intimidation, onto that of intoxication." He had said, with no taint of animosity in his voice.

Lycus did not drink regularly, the idea of intoxication on the day to day basis was something he was not fond of. If it were a celebration with his brothers of the arena following a championship, then it would be much different. Imbibed, even in these harsh times, can be deadly, he told himself. He recalled briefly when Illana was young and nearly violated after she was drunk. Luckily his father had been there before either party was injured..or worse.

"Damn, and here I thought I had handled that pretty well." Tyranus justified jokingly.

"He yet stands tall, does he not?." Lycus replied amusingly, motioning his head to Kai.

Following his apparent insult to Ty, he held his hand in the air as Colovian shrugged his shoulder away from Lycus' grip. He took another sip of his drink as Kai spoke to him.

“As much as I admire your guts Imperial. I fear that the arena is not for me. I do not seek fame, as you suggest, yet simply the thrill to fight. I won’t deny you a helping hand if you so wish, perhaps next to you the people won’t notice me as much but to fight you and inevitably win would do me no favours.”

Lycus leaned on his chair. A boastful aura about him. For a strange reason, he always pictured Illana when looking upon Kai, A violent youth, thirsty for infamy and thrill of fighting, and hunting. In a way, Lycus himself could compare. The thrill of standing upon the sands was an honor that would please most sane warriors. He knocked on the wooden counter with his empty cup. A squint in his eye. He did catch the Argonian in the corner of his eye pass on by. Though he struck him as a regular passerby.

"If you are thrilled with battle alone, then I suppose coin is of no matter to you as well." Lycus made an assumption that the man was somehow different from him and his sister. Instead of fighting for glory and coin as well as infamy, he simply fought for the latter alone, it would appear. At least that end would suit Lycus.

The Imperial looked over at the side, seeing Benalin staring at him from the entrance. He motioned his head slightly to the exit, signaling it was time to begin. Lycus, reluctantly, ackloladged the gesture with a slight furrowing of his brow.

"The Bosmer I spoke to wishes to stand against my opponent in the arena. He wages much gold on my victory. I would not see him to ruin so soon."

His hand reached to his spear, holding it in his grip. "The Arena has been my grounds of play for the past three years. Once more I would love so set my foot upon it. To honor that I love and lost with blood and victory...one last time."

He exchanged glances with Tyranus and then looked at Kai. "I do not wish for coin much. I could stand under a thousand fortunes and it would not cloud my mind."

Lycus got up from his seat, exhaling. He would not reveal why he would fight under the whim of the Bosmer. In truth, he fought because he wanted to. And his winning would most likely mean Illana would be spared from taking a life in her uncontrollable fits of anger. Kai did dissapoint him in a way. Instead of wishing to fight for honor, he pursued a simple path of infamy and fear mixed with a guarded awe. And sharing the sands with a man who spent his time luring simple men to brawls was far from being worthy to stand with him. But the Blue Team was dwindling in numbers and in present days, people are worried about politics rather than entertainment. While it served to amuse the masses, those who participated were low in numbers.

He could use Kai. The man himself already offered to fight. If the Blademaster would allow a pit dog to fight with a gladiator, perhaps he could form a small team. He stood in good graces with the owner of the Bloodworks, so he was confident such things would be allowed. Especially in these dire times. Since it was Market Day, the match for the arena could be hosted for free, considering most spent their gold on wares and trinkets.

"In one hour, preparations shall be made. If you wish, you should present yourself before time or I fear you will miss opportunity. You may stand in my team, if you so desire. But do not make the mistake to think you are a gladiator."

He handed the wench a small bag of coin, paying for his food. He glanced at the Colovian. "Tyranus. My invitation extends to you as well."

[JR Cash]

Character Sheet, for reference.

Spoiler

Name: Kai Xerosa
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Race: Imperial
Birthsign: Steed

General Appearance: Despite his rough and ready appearance Kai maintains a very masculine attractiveness about him. His scruffy face is often covered in a varying amount of wounds, dry blood and dirt. His nose is broken in several places and scars are scattered across his olive coloured skin. His eyes are light blue colour and his hair a jet black. Slicked back and kept clear of his face. Rarely clean shaven, the lower half of Kai’s face is often shrouded in a shadow of stubble, with sideburns connecting his thin beard to his thick hair. Kai isn’t exactly tall standing at only 5’10, though he is extremely well-built with an athletic and toned body achieved through years of combat training and experience. Kai has very few noticeable scars as his skin tends to heal very well, however it is rare to see Kai without some form of scar or wound at any given time.

Skills: Kai is a master of combat, in particular his speed, stamina, agility and sheer aggression give him the upper hand in most fights. It is not unknown for Kai to lose a fight although this is usually down to extreme fatigue or unconsciousness, as his incredible resilience and refusal to back down keep him fighting even when he is on his last limb. Kai tends to steer clear of using weapons and allows his body to do most of the work, after years of working in the field of martial arts; he is somewhat an expert and can even face those who are armed on equal ground. When it comes to magical ability Kai is powerless, he has no idea how to begin to use the arcane arts and instead turns a blind eye to its practise. Kai is very agile and his acrobatic ability allows him to manoeuvre himself extremely well, both in and out of combat. Years of martial arts training have made him extremely flexible and as a result Kai is an able gymnast. Despite his combat prowess, in warfare Kai is not as skilled as an average soldier. One-on-one combat is very different to tactical warfare, and Kai’s inability to take orders from anyone makes it harder for him to work in a team and perform as part of a unit.

Apparel: Kai takes little pride in his appearance and tends to wear whatever he can find that morning, never sticking to a favourite outfit or using different clothes for specific events. Usually this results in some sort of linen shirt and leather pants, although this can vary depending on what part of the world he resides in at the time. Due to his excessive travelling Kai tends to prefer comfort over protection and even when fighting will never wear any heavy armour, such as steel or iron. He finds these too restrictive and prefers lighter armours such as leather or in some colder parts of the world fur. Kai is often to be found engaging in combat in normal linen or cloth clothes, as this allows him to utilise his speed and agility more so than any other apparel.

Weapons: “Weapons are for the weak.” Kai rarely uses weapons when it comes to combat. Though he has been known to use a bow and the occasional short sword or dagger the only weapon he carries with him is a small knife, which even still is mainly used for hunting and skinning his dinners. Kai uses his body as his weapon, his fists are scarred and his knuckles bruised. Kai is capable, through years of training to throw a fierce punch and is also known to use a variety of kicks and blocks which allow him to combat with the most experienced of opponents.

Personality: “Scars themselves are the lessons of life, left permanently on your mind, body and soul; you have never truly won a fight if the enemy cannot do as much as to lay a finger on your flesh.” Headstrong and extremely over-confident, Kai is not invincible, something he believes himself to be. Kai revels in his aggressive nature, actively seeking out trouble and violence to show off his skill and humiliate his enemies. Rude and arrogant, Kai has very few friends and many enemies, Kai knows that he is a loner but he doesn’t seem to mind and instead takes unusual pleasure from his own company. Behind his mindless and scruffy exterior hides a brutal, impulsive, and savage killer with an excessively-violent lust for blood. Kai knows exactly what he is doing by causing trouble and does it often simply for kicks. He makes no effort to hide his personality and it doesn’t take much to recognise that Kai is impulsive and ruthless. In battle Kai has an inhumane lust for blood; aggressive and determined many people would rather avoid any conflict with such a character. Kai is also extremely resilient and is barely ever seen to back down even in cases where he has been vastly overcome. Kai revels in the challenge of combat, enjoying being backed into a corner and having to fight his way out. Despite his violent and psychotic nature, Kai is not inherently evil. Deep down it is probable that Kai does have a conscience, shown partially through the fact that he will rarely attack or engage in combat with those who are weaker than him, be it women or children. Though he personally considers this to be down to the fact that they are unworthy of his effort – this could be a cover up for some sentient considerations.

Background: Kai has his roots in Bravil, it was where he was born and raised by his single mother. A skooma addict who had little income and rarely enough time to give Kai the attention or care that he properly needed. This goes some way to explain his erratic behaviour and his aggresive individualism. His childhood was spent mostly in the underground world of Bravil, mixing and involving himself with those in crime and violence. Kai fought in what was an illegal gambling arena sticking mainly to boxing and fights without rules. Here the richer members of the city would place money on fights that were both extremely bloody and often resulted in death. When the Thalmor armies first invaded, Kai decided to move away from Bravil, spending some time on the road before heading onto the Imperial City, where he continued his now practised line of work, for much greater money - although at a greater risk. Kai Xerosa, in the underworld of the Imperial City is fast becoming a renowned name, and his reputation is ever increasing.

Kai Xerosa
Merchant’s Inn – Market District
Morning - 11th Second Seed 4E 174


"If you are thrilled with battle alone, then I suppose coin is of no matter to you as well." Lycus spoke to Kai, seeming to ignore Ty who was still sat beside the pair, uninvited to join in with the arena offer. Lycus then turned his head and looked over toward the entrance, where a shady looking elf stared at the men in conversation, nodding at Lycus as if to usher and hurry him along.

Lycus then told his story to Kai, mentioning in due course the fact that quite a lot of money had been wagered on this fight. Kai was almost tempted to fight, and of course win against the Imperial for the sake of humour, he would quite enjoy robbing both the Elf and Lycus of their gold, but he figured instead he might be able to make a small profit from a day’s work and so chose to ignore any impulse to ruin the Imperial’s day.

“The money is but a by-product of my passion. I do not seek it, but I must live and to live requires money. I am just lucky that I can make mine doing what I enjoy.” Kai explained in answer to Lycus’ original comment, as the Imperial rose from his chair. Kai didn’t want Lycus to get the wrong impression and that money was the last thing on his mind whilst battling against an enemy.

Kai didn’t exactly have a merchant’s mind-set, for he was not taken in by the allure of most material goods, preferring instead to treasure a more physical enjoyment of life, namely that of landing his fist into the bridge of an opponent’s nose.

“In one hour, preparations shall be made. If you wish, you should present yourself before time or I fear you will miss opportunity. You may stand in my team, if you so desire. But do not make the mistake to think you are a gladiator." Lycus said as he handed a bag of coins to the waitress, inviting Ty to the fight too if he desired to get involved.

Kai didn’t see the point in waiting around, and depending on what Ty wanted to drink would probably head to the Arena after he finally had the chance to get the man what he had offered before Lycus had quite rudely interrupted.

[Joe Bonney]

Barracks- 11th Second Seed 4E 174

Errialor

The high elf lay sat down on one of the beds. It wasn't anything special, but was at least comfortable than the bedroll he was used to. Whatever the case, he doubted that they would be here for long. The Dominion army would surely be at their doorstep any day soon. And right now he wasn't sure if he wanted to go back. On one hand he wanted to return to Valenwood, and such would be difficult if he didn't prove himself to the Thalmor. On the other hand, he longed to be free of wondering how long it would be before Lord Naarifin would let them go home. And he longed for the day he could wake up every day wondering if this he'd survive to see the sun set. It wasn't that he was afraid of risk: his former life, that of a hunter, was one of risk. But in the Dominion army, he had no control over his life and his well-being: he had to do what his superiors told him, and go where they ordered. If they ordered him into a battle that he had no hope of surviving, he would have no choice but to obey.

I need to know what I'm going to do. I don't think I'll have much more time to think about it, Errialor pondered. Perhaps I'll have a better idea after Faendal talks to the Emperor. He was still in disbelief that they would get to see the Emperor himself. He, a Dominion soldier, would get the chance to see the most powerful person in Tamriel, the man whose nation he had fought against. I wonder what he wants with us? Does Faendal have some news for him? Does he had news on what the Dominion is going to do next? He must already know that the Dominion is going to attack the city.

Another thought crept into Errialor's head: he was in no shape to meet the Emperor. Right now all he had was the clothing, pants and a shirt that he wore underneath his old armor. I can't meet the Emperor in this. I couldn't even meet my superiors in this. Maybe there's some spare gear in the barracks. He stood up and turned towards Faendal.

"Excuse me, but do you think the Legion could spare something for me to wear? I can't to into the Imperial palace dressed like I just got out of bed." He hoped his captor would give him this allowance. Even if he had to dress in the Imperial Legion's silly looking leather armor, it'd be better than what he had on right now. He at least hoped to get some real clothes.

[Cathrine Jack]

Lycus Desselius, The Imperial City, Cyrodiil, Merchant's Inn-
11^th of Second Seed. 4E 174

Lycus would waste no time in waiting for a response, he was busy and he had much on his hands than to overstay his welcome in the tavern. If Ty wanted to add to his adventure, than by all means he was free to pursuit any methods necessary. Lycus himself did not know whether or not he would survive. There were many cutthroats and warriors and even mages in the arena that were far seasoned than he was. Yet he did consider himself far more experienced than Kai. He could be wrong, Kai could be a strong warrior, but as far as Lycus was considered, he lacked a great many things. Namely subtlety. He already found himself judging how long Kai would last in the arena.

The tan Imperial grabbed his spear and out after he listened to Kai's response of coin being a by-product. At least in that aspect, he agreed wholeheartedly. In truth. he never wished for the demise of another stranger unless it was in the Arena, where justification was presented. Yet Kai irked him to the bone, the foolish smirk on his face was insulting. He struck the irritation from his mind, however, as he headed out the door into the bright day. The sun shined against his face, causing him to temporarily shut his eyes as he covered his face with a single arm. His vision quickly adjusted soon after His hunger was satisfied, but he felt a gargantuan need to lay on a bed and sleep away the exsaustion. He had a few minutes to sleep after preparations were made, more than enough to grant him the strength he needed. Or so he hoped.


Part of him wanted to engage in a leisurely exertions, but such carnal desires would weaken him in the battle to come. And most of the women in the city were unclean and were nothing more than strumpets. None worthy of his attention or touch. He sighed as he upraised his spear and held it on his shoulders as he walked the streets. He heard sounds of music nearby, making him also want to reach into his travel bag and play his flute to soothe his troubled mind. Yet there could only be so much before the meeting with the Emperor and the impending Thalmor attack. Why does war have to seep into my province? In my time? Lycus asked himself as he walked on. Why must there be chaos for one who seeks a peaceful life? The answer came swiftly. Because for a warrior, a peaceful life is only temporary. Life itself is a struggle that most would fall through. Lycus sighed. I hope that me and my sister survive this...
.

[Jennie Skeletons]

Tyranus Florentius
Merchant's Inn

Ty sat and listened to the two warriors speak, his arms crossed as he listened. His head moved towards whichever made started talking, tracking the conversation. He wasn't surprised to find that Lycus was a gladiator, nor that Kai was a fighter of some type as well. The young Imperial wanted to throw his own hunter/farmer classification in to mix things up with some comic relief. Somehow he preferred the two of them to be fighting on the same side, rather than against each other. Having two new allies was much better than ending up with one newly dead ally.

As Lycus stood to believe, Ty nodded, assuming the next time he saw him would be when they were all to meet up with their fellow escapees. However Lycus' closing statement took Tyranus by surprise. "Tyranus. My invitation extends to you as well."

The Colovian's eyes were wide as he sat back in his seat, listening as Lycus left the tavern. 'Me? Fight in THE Arena? Either he has a lot of faith or a huge misrepresentation of my abilities based on the stupid stuff I say.' the young man thought, shaking his head slowly. He had yet to pin down Lycus' personality. One moment he ventured that Ty played at being a man, and the next he invited him to a fight to the death. One thing Ty did pick up on was Lycus' dislike of Kai, but then again he had started off bullying a teenager in a tavern.

Turning back to Kai, Ty gave a smirk. "After that little surprise I could go for an ale," the Imperial said, shaking his head as he looked at the floor. His eyes drifted back up to Kai as he continued "In case you didn't already make the impression, I'm fairly green around the gills when it comes to combat. Akatosh knows why he would invite me to fight in the arena with the likes of you."

Ty spread his arms, clasping his hands behind his head. The invitation had sparked thoughts that Ty had dismissed on his own. He might have dreamed of fighting in the Arena, however he never thought he would actually do it, nor want to if the opportunity arose. Now here he was, debating whether or not to thrust his inexperienced self into battle with two near-strangers. "If someone had told me I would one day fight in the Cyrodillic Arena with two men I barely knew, I would've walked him to the chapel myself. Now here I am considering it." The Colovian once again shook his head, this time more at himself than anything else.

He knew for a fact his beloved would tan his hide if she knew what he was thinking. And he could delude himself into going off and fighting for his home, but fighting needlessly in the arena? That would take a lot of urging from himself and others. Ty gave Kai a sideways look. "How would you feel about having me at your side in the arena?" he asked the older Imperial. So far, Ty got a similar impression of Kai that he had gotten of Lycus. Both fighters, neither seeming to do it for coin nor money. However the fact that he hadn't mopped the tavern with his blood made Ty trust the other Imperial, if only slightly more than the usual stranger in a tavern. He wanted to know what the man thought.

[Kerri Lee]

Rashaava
Imperial City, Merchant's Inn - 11th of Second Seed, 4E 174

Rashaava waited as the three Imperials spoke. He did not want to eavesdrop, but he couldn't help paying closer attention when he heard talk of the Arena. Ah, so that's what the Elf's up to; he wants to make his earnings by betting on this man! The Argonian pondered this for a bit, trying to determine why the man was willing to accept the Elf's offer. Hearing mention of a Bosmer, Rashaava perked up and heard:

“... He wagers much gold on my victory. I would not see him to ruin so soon.”

Interesting. It seemed that this would-be gladiator was willing to help Benalin, and was aware that the mer would be betting heavily on him. Is he a friend of Benalin's? Was he offered a sizable sum of the potential winnings? Or, did the Bosmer tell him of his plight, and this man has some interest in seeing that woman paid? They all seem like unlikely options (especially the first), yet there doesn't seem...

Rashaava ceased his musings when he noticed that the man had left already, and was striding through the street. Curses! Rashaava quickly weaved his way through the tables and broke into a brisk walk upon reaching the street. Thankfully, the black-haired Imperial was easy to track because he was carrying a large spear over his shoulder. Interesting, the guards don't seem to care... perhaps it's because of all the activity here. Running up behind him, Rashaava said,

“Sir! A moment of your time; I wish to speak with you about that Wood Elf. Risking death in the Arena is your decision, but I want to ensure that you do not do so without knowing that scumbag's motives!”

[Charlie Ramsden]

Lycus Desselius, The Imperial City, Cyrodiil, Merchant's Inn-
11^th of Second Seed. 4E 174


“Sir! A moment of your time; I wish to speak with you about that Wood Elf. Risking death in the Arena is your decision, but I want to ensure that you do not do so without knowing that scumbag's motives!”

The sentance itself might of been similar to what a Nobleman or an upstanding citizen would say. Yet the voice sound remarkably different. Lycus turned around for a moment and realized the individual was speaking to him. And that it was an Argonian. Who else would fight in the Arena at this time? Lycus realized. Of course, he speaks to me.

He had dark-green scales with miniature red spots along the middle of his forearms. He was multicolored, as most members of his race. Yet he did not bear any horns some of the representatives of his species did. When Lycus found himself studying the lizard for too long, he quickly cleared his throat and spoke out himself.

"You need not call me sir," Lycus notified him as he continued walking to the Arena. He expected the Argonian to follow, but still he spoke once more to continue the conversation. " You've must have been eavesdropping, then, have you not? I assume you speak of the Bosmer, Benalin? And what motives would you imagine the little man to have?"

Truth be told, most people knew who Benalin was. Most did not want to know. Some, under unfortunate circumstances, have learned the harsh way when they soon found their pocket empty of coin or even their women lifting skirts when uncalled for. It was no surpirse to him that the Argonian would warn him of it. But it did not hurt to ask why he believed such a thing.

"Introduce yourself, while you are at it. I have had my fill of strangers for one day." he lamented.

[Multi Multi]

Rashaava
Imperial City, Market District - 11th of Second Seed, 4E 174

As Rashaava approached, the man turned around for a brief moment. “You need not call me sir. You must have been eavesdropping, then, have you not? I assume you speak of the Bosmer, Benalin? And what motives would you imagine the little man to have?” As he started to walk again, he finished, “Introduce yourself, while you are at it. I have had my fill of strangers for one day.”

Rashaava drew up beside him and kept pace, being careful to avoid the pointed tip of the man's spear as they headed toward the Arena District. “My apologies. My name is Rashaava, and I admit that I overheard some of your conversation. I determined that Benalin asked you to fight in the Arena, and that you know him somehow. I only took note because I have become somewhat involved in his debt, against my will." Sidestepping a particularly large Nord man, Rashaava continued. "He was being threatened by a blond-haired Imperial who looked to be some sort of mercenary, and I may have prevented her from spilling his blood upon the stones. However, she needs her money, and I agreed to watch over the Elf until he meets with her at the Merchant's Inn in a few hours. I have no love of Benalin; I simply wanted to make sure that you know that he is in debt, with his life on the line. There's no telling what sort of scam he'll try to pull to get his money. Do you know him well? How much of this did he already tell you?”

[Kristina Campbell]

Lycus Desselius, The Imperial City, Cyrodiil, Merchant's Inn-
11^th of Second Seed. 4E 174

As Lycus and the Argonian walked down the busy streets, the Imperial couldn't of helped but smirk at the words that were being spoken to him. It was a bit comical, the entire ordeal. To prevent one from spilling blood, he would require to do so anyway. He listened to the Argonian and came under the conclusion that he already had met Illana and even offered a helping "eye" to keep watch over Benalin. How many blond-haired Imperial Bounty Hunters did Benalin own? Knowing his sister well, she did not want him to escape the city with her coin. Lycus let out a brief smile for a moment at the thought of Illana trying to intimidate Benalin. She did well against weaker men, but against stronger foes she tried desperately by trying to kill more than she could handle. Regardless, he still loved her.

"I admire your sense of honor. You are willing to help a man who's reputation is soiled over the years for the reason to prevent bloodshed. You and I share a common trait."

"I have no love of Benalin; I simply wanted to make sure that you know that he is in debt, with his life on the line. There's no telling what sort of scam he'll try to pull to get his money. Do you know him well? How much of this did he already tell you?” The Argonian named Rashaava said and asked.

Unfortunately, I do know Benalin too well, Lycus thought. "I never thought much of Benalin. That was, until the week where I defeated all the men he was betting on in the arena. He made an attempt on my life be trying to slip poison into my drink and food before the match. I secured my victory regardless and he lost a fortune."

He sighed as he continued traversing the busy streets, maneuvering out of the way of an incoming couple of females holding baskets over their heads. "Yet, I would not have him killed in the streets nor would I have my insane, eccentric sister do the same only to be locked up in an Imperial prison. I cannot afford for that to happen, especially now in these dark hours to come."

Lycus looked around. "He told me enough. If he does not pay my sister, she would no doubt try to kill him. He made offer to pay more than he should to make amends for us both."

As he passed on busy streets, finally reaching the Arena district, Lycus stopped for a brief second. He gazed high into the sky, staring onto the high Colosseum that towered above the buildings nearby. He could hear music coming from the inside and the crowd cheering and laughing. It seemed to him there was no blood-shed today, at least not yet. Yet musicals and the comical jokes of jesters would soon be replaced by the more blood-thirsty events of a match between warriors. If that Kai individual would show up, then perhaps a match can be arranged.

Lycus felt regret in inviting the man to a match in the arena. In recent days, more and more unworthy men and women consider themselves otherwise, tainting the sacred grounds of the arena, which are blessed and watered with the tears of blood and sanguine. Kai, it would seem, had a genuine knack for mindless slaughter. It would amusing to see him fall in the arena.

The Imperial glanced at Rashaava. "You ever paid tribute to an arena match? Or fought in it's games?" Lycus asked him as he stepped closer to the gates of the large Colosseum. Greeting the guards at the door and ignoring a group of wenches that called out his name with giggling reserved for perverse children. He understood that Rashaava was going to try and watch over Benalin to prevent any bloodshed. But Illana always was true to her word, so it was a safe bet than she would begin searching right before the appointed time. He found it safe to at least invite the man for a match. But his eyes fell to his satchel, quickly taking notice that it was perhaps filled with potions. He did remember seeing the Argonian work in the alchemy table back at the inn.

[Nicole Mark]

Rashaava
Imperial City, Arena District - 11th of Second Seed, 4E 174

Rashaava listened calmly as the man spoke. “He told me enough. If he does not pay my sister, she would no doubt try to kill him. He made an offer to pay more than he should to make amends for us both.”

Rashaava nodded in understanding. Ah, so he stands to earn some coin, and that was his sister, whom he wants to keep out of jail. A commendable mix of love and frugality. As the crazed sounds of the Arena grew louder, the Imperial continued,

“You ever paid tribute to an Arena match? Or fought in its games?” As he said this, he reached the door of the Colosseum and greeted the guards, entering.

“I have not witnessed a match, let alone fought in one. It's the crowds; they make me... edgy. I avoid the district when I can. However...” Rashaava paused for a brief moment. While he had been able to maintain his usual stoic manner when speaking with the woman, the truth was that he was beginning to fear what would happen if she were to go unpaid. If Benalin is willing to go to these lengths to pay her, then she must be a force to be reckoned with. He felt the need to watch the match, even though he knew that he couldn't affect the outcome. Unless...

“However, I feel obliged to watch your match. You seem to be able to handle yourself well, but if you wish, I might be able to assist your chances of victory.” Motioning to the string of multicolored vials attached to his satchel's strap spanning his chest, he continued, “I am not an accomplished warrior in any sense, but I have some skill with potions. I am unfamiliar with the Arena rules, but I could spare one of my brews in order to assist you. Something to bolster your energy to fight off fatigue, or perhaps a subtle poison to muddle your opponent's mind, slowing their reflexes? Consider it my wager; I have a personal stake in seeing you succeed. She seemed somewhat arrogant, perhaps, but your sister was very... persuasive... in that regard.”

Rashaava was very fond of his potions, and they were not cheap; he kept a limited supply of high-quality solutions, and parting with them was always a serious decision. He hoped that, if he used one, the man would not prove to be a waste. Realizing that he had been thinking of him as “the man” for this entire time, the Argonian added,

“Also, what is your name? I don't remember it being mentioned.”

[*Chloe*]

Lycus Desselius, The Imperial City, Cyrodiil, Arena Bloodworks-
11^th of Second Seed. 4E 174


He entered past the gates, opening the door that led into the bloodworks. Soon, his nostrils was filled with the scent of blood and flesh and the stench of sweat. His nostrils flared about as he allowed himself a brief grin to his familiar surroundings.

"The Bloodworks. Feast your senses to the scent of flesh. Trial by blood, this is where men are forged into something greater. Blood is our ambrosia. Our own private realm which could rival that of Boethia. The shared mountaintop of the once great Gaiden Shingi." Lycus said as he stepped down the stairs down into the large training area which was the Bloodworks. All around him were men and women, each specialized in a specific manner of fighting and combating. Most too busy to even acknowledge one of their own has returned. The others who did were either his rivals or newcomers eager to prove themselves.

Swords and axes slashed against wooden dummies, while warriors brawled in hand to hand training as a few magic users tried their prowess in the Arcane by casting spells at artificial targets. By all means, battle was in the air. Lycus had to tune out the sound to be able to listen to the Argonian speak.

“I have not witnessed a match, let alone fought in one. It's the crowds; they make me... edgy. I avoid the district when I can. However...I feel obliged to watch your match. You seem to be able to handle yourself well, but if you wish, I might be able to assist your chances of victory.”

Lycus looked at Rashaava as he reached into his satchel and pulled out a few potions what were sorte by size and color. He spoke the differences in aid he would be able to offer Lycus in regards to advantage in the Arena. He also stated he did not know the Arena rules and that he was not a spectator in any sense. The Imperial scratched his scalp, messing a few loose ends of long, unkempt hair. He thought to himself if he would require any potions or body altering drinks. He also was concerned about it. Is this another ruse to try and poison me? Benalin's insidious machination to try and use a man under false pretense to get me killed as a concealed manner of personal revenge against Illana and past transgressions? Possible, but not likely. Benalin was not as intelligent and convoluted and he could tell some were indeed potions and not any type of venomous drink to be imbibed.

As much as he would like to agree, he shook his head. "I cannot accept."

The reason being that he wanted to experience the Arena one last time in his prime state. A condition that would otherwise be untempered and untouched with potions or "power-drinks" to facilitate the fight. He would prove himself a worthy opponent. He already had an advantage against his opponents, using skill enhancing drinks would surely destroy all concepts of a "fair" fight.

"Consider it my wager; I have a personal stake in seeing you succeed. She seemed somewhat arrogant, perhaps, but your sister was very... persuasive... in that regard."

Just somewhat? Lycus mused. "She is brash, impulsive and ruthless. She takes after my mother, yet I love her. And nevertheless I find it my responsibility to take care of her until breath flees my flesh, ordering my soul onto the afterlife."

And fighting in the Arena did count, in a way, as a responsibility that would be fought for until his dying breath. He could not imagine her being taken prisoner for decapitating her enemies only to be taken to prisoner and kept there for gods know how long. The results would be catastrophic and bloody. He set his spear down upon a table and removed his dirty shirt.

"My name is Lycus Desselius. A pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Rashaava." he said at last, leaning against the wall and looking about him.

"Feel free to bet on me if you wish. Gain some coin of your own. I am aware you are not enamored by the overwhelming howl of the crowd, but it can be worth it. Now, if I may, begin my arrangements for the match. It would seem to me that there are more than enough spectators for a few matches."

[Katey Meyer]

Waylas
Guard Barracks, Imperial City, Cyrodiil - 11^th of Second Seed, 4E 174


Waylas flopped down on one of the soft cotton beds inside the barracks. It had been years since he had felt a nice warm bed with a matress underneath it. He grabbed himself a cold bottle of mead and began to drink from it. The taste was unfathomable to him, it had been years since he had drank something that wasn't cheap, watered down alcohol.

He felt a little uncomfortable being an escaped convict in a room full of Imperial Watchmen. Waylas and the rest of the group had been led hear by the Imperial Watchmen. Their group included of an Orc, a Wood Elf, and of the Wood Elf's Altmer prisoner. Why the Wood Elf insisted on keeping the Altmer as a prisoner was beyond him. And even though Waylas protested to just killing him on the spot, they brought him along anyways and told the guards he was one of their own.

Waylas had overheard the Orc and the Wood Elf talking and had heard them mention each other's name. The Orc had reffered to himself as Ermac and the Wood Elf called himself Faendal. Waylas himself kept silent in fear of revealing himself to the watchmen. He was actually surprised that the guards hadn't recognized him, but then again it probably didn't cross their minds. He was supposed to be locked up in some high maximum prison that didn't exist anymore, and he had grown his goatee out a little since then...

[Emma]

Lycus Desselius, The Imperial City, Cyrodiil, Arena Bloodworks-
11^th of Second Seed. 4E 174

The Blademaster often instructed the new recruits for a certain period of time, contrasting to the old days in the Third Era where men trained for themselves. Also, a fight to the death was reserved for spectacles. If a man fell while alive, it was up to the crowd to choose the man’s fate. While the air was friendly, there was an obvious sense of rivalry and brotherhood that stemmed from some of the men and even women.

Lycus watched casually as the trainees carved the invisible air again and again and again using their swords. Striking at imaginary opponents rapidly with intense exertions. Pit dogs, myrmidons and gladiators alike; each battling to overpower his or her own physical capacity and be something beyond than just a mere combatant with a weapon. The aspiration was to become a champion. To become part of the greatest fighters next to the Fighters Guild. As sweat, grime and blood filled the air, Lycus went on to speak with the Blademaster himself. A bald Redguard of upstanding reputation, as his people were master at arms.

In a secluded chamber, Lycus entered the room to set a match. The seated dark-skinned man rose to his feet at the sight of the Imperial in a surprised chuckle.

“Lycus? After all this time, you have the audacity to set foot upon my bloodworks?"

“You would not get rid of me so quickly.” Lycus smiled as he embraced the other man with a brief hug before grabbing his forearm.

“You return for training or to mock the recruits as Thrassos and Rei’Jarr do?”

Lycus folded his arms at the chest. “I’ve come for an arrangement for battle.”

“Today?”

“That is my desire," he replied.

The fit Redguard made a sound with his throat, as if considering. “We have no planned matches for this evening. But I shall see what can be done.”

Both spoke about the idea of starting a match and proper arrangements, the two warriors traversing through the training ground for better part of half hour, finally coming down to an agreement. Lycus, upon retrieving his spear once more, stood at the Blademaster’s side as he called out to all the able bodied men and women, interrupting their training.

“Attend!”

The sounds of battle dissipated into a stoic silence. Each gathered near each other to listen to the Redguard, some acknowledging Lycus and laughing with a mutual respect for past musings and jests. Feeling around “family”, Lycus nodded as the laughter quickly died down at the command of the Blademaster.

“Preparing for the next match has been decided. Lycus Desselius will fight for the Yellow Team, as always.”

Lycus composed himself, speaking loudly. “And who would challenge me, Blademaster? And who would join me?”

No answer. The newest recruits were silent, as the more skilled fighters were cautious. Neither planning on risking their lives on that particulat day. The only ones that spoke out were the seasoned warriors whom Lycus had grown to form a friendship with.

“Ha, is this a jest? Lycus abandons his training and returns months later? I fear he's been too long without a woman and he sought to procure one.” a female Nord called out.

“Nonsense. Lycus fancies no woman. Dibella and Sanguine can both drown Lycus with waves of females, and the fool will not even drop his undergarments if his life was threatened.”

“I doubt when touched by a moistened girl, his spear would even rise.” another scoffed and teased about.

Lycus, stifling a laugh, pointed his silver weapon at both of them. “Perhaps you two would like to revisit that remark on the sands above in proper contest? Let us see then, if my spear would rise.”

Both shook their heads, still under the after effects of the comical tease. Lycus considered it a friendly mockery.

“You find yourself superior?” one asked.

“That I do. And truth falls from my mouth, as stupidity falls from yours.” the clever response hung in the air. Only the ones who passed the trial by fire could laugh, cry and sleep like warriors. The rest weren’t granted such things. "If I emerged the victor, I would pay coin to wine and women for an entire day...for those that I consider worthy."

The entire Bloodworks emerged in cheer and laughter, as a good amount of men were indeed proficient fighters. Each slapping each other with stories of the past and the future glories of what is to come. It all burdened Lycus in the inside, for he knew it would not last. If he was wise, he would tell his friends and brothers-in-arms to leave the city.

After a careful and picky choosing of whether or not Lycus would fight a member of his own team, he remembered about Kai. He notified the Blademaster of another pitdog that might be willing to join the match. Or not even a pitdog, but below. A common brawler. The Blademaster laughed at the idea, uncertain if anything of that nature would be allowed. But considering the official tournaments was put on hold for now, it wouldn’t be an unwise decision.

“Get whatever rest you can, Lycus. I will arrange a team for the next match.”

“Will it be a fight to the death?” Lycus asked.

“That, my brother, remains to be seen.”

[Lavender Brown]

Kai Xerosa.
The Imperial City - Merchants Inn

"After that little surprise I could go for an ale." Ty mentioned in reply to Kai's earlier question. Kai called over the waitress and sat back down to listen to Ty speak.

"In case you didn't already make the impression, I'm fairly green around the gills when it comes to combat. Akatosh knows why he would invite me to fight in the arena with the likes of you." Kai smirked; he had noticed, he'd known from the off-set that the two men differed greatly in combat prowess. Lycus, unlike Ty gave off a far more experienced aura, and the fact that he'd had approached Kai whereas Ty could barely so much as look at him, showed that he was obviously more confident. Kai wasn't sure what to make of Lycus' proposal to Ty; perhaps humiliation?, Kai pondered to himself. No, Lycus didn't seem the type, maybe he was just being kind, something that Kai figured was an odd thing to do.

"How would you feel about having me at your side in the arena?" Kai was taken aback by the question. He wanted to say that he couldn't care less, but he could see the man was torn by the decision and figured it was best to at least attempt to dissuade Ty from doing something stupid.

"Well," Kai began as the tavern waitress finally came over, expecting an order. "Oh, err, we'll have two ales." Kai was never good with his manners which made him sound abrupt, but he was used to feeling like a villain so it was what he had come to expect. The waitress nodded and left to get the drinks, before Kai continued.

"I've never fought in the arena myself, although I do something similar, but I imagine it won't be easy. If what you say about not having much combat experience is true, then I'd probably advise you stay well away. Normally I like violence, but in this case I don't want to see someone needlessly killed. And don't think I'd help you out either, the last thing I want whilst beating the crap out of someone is to have to stop and help you out, it spoils the fun."

Kai never considered the possibility that he would lose a fight, obviously it had happened before, but he never let it affect his confidence.

"On the other hand," Kai reconsidered his approach, "maybe some experience could do you some good, and there's no better way than jumping right in at the deep end. At least that way, you have to swim. Or sink. And I'm pretty sure you'd rather it not be the latter." Kai smiled, although it probably wasn't the right time, talking about life or death was as normal to Kai as talking about the weather, but to others it probably seemed a little odd.

The waitress came back over, placing the two ales from on her tray to the table between the two men. Kai nodded at her in thanks, but said nothing, simply reaching for and taking a sip from the clay mug.

Kai set it back down and began to pick at the scars along his knuckles. He was still tired from the previous night, perhaps the arena was a mistake, but he couldn't back out now, pride overruled him.

"We should leave soon, I don't want to miss the fight." Kai muttered not taking his gaze from his own knuckles but instead still fiddling with the scars, he didn't want to rush the Imperial, but knowing he'd look like a coward if he didn't show up, wasn't going to wait around.

[STEVI INQUE]

Ermac, 11th of Second Seed - Imperial City Barracks

Saraam had finally made it to a warm hearth and a cozy bed. He, Faendal and the Aldmeri prisoner had just been escorted into the cities barracks. Amid the mattresses were chests, cupboards, a roaring hearth at the end, and small bedside tables. There was a weapon rack by the hearth with all sorts of armaments, none of which the Orc wanted their captive to get a hold of so he picked the bed just below it. Before he sat down he removed his staff and the small Oblivion stone from his robes. Not many have ever seen such a stone, and even fewer actually retrieved it themselves. But Ermac was an old Orc, he'd seen and done a lot more than the average man.

Once he sat down he was almost immediately overcome by drowsiness — it felt good to be sitting on something that wasn't stone — But for the time being, at least until they got situated, he wanted to keep an eye on their prisoner.

He leaned forward and clasped his hands together, watching the prisoner stand idly in the midst of everything, tall and awkward. He spoke up lowly in the direction of Faendal.

"Excuse me, but do you think the Legion could spare something for me to wear? I can't go to the Imperial palace dressed like I just got out of bed," he exclaimed plaintively.

"And what makes you think you deserve to look presentable?" Ermac spoke with no emotion on his face, and an even tone. His amber eyes looking straight at the Altmer's.
"What makes you think you even ascertained the privilege to see the Emperor. I'd be careful to face him if I were you, I hear he doesn't like the Thalmor."

He wasn't being hostile, only frank. The elf had a better chance in the Imperial prison than in front of the Emperor.

"Answer me this if you may. " He picked the sigil stone up in his hand and began to inspect it. It was a small miracle that the fire emitted from it didn't burn to the touch. One of the many mysteries of the many realms parallel to theirs.

"What made you join the Thalmor? Every man and mer in this realm was born pure, what is your story?"

[Hannah Whitlock]

Imperial Barracks

Errialor

One of the others, the orc mage, replied to the Altmer's query.

"And what makes you think you deserve to look presentable? What makes you think you even ascertained the privilege to see the Emperor. I'd be careful to face him if I were you, I hear he doesn't like the Thalmor." The Orc was probably right, the Emperor's guards wouldn't let a prisoner near him.

"Answer me this if you may," continued the orc. "What made you join the Thalmor? Every man and mer in this realm was born pure, what is your story?"

Errialor, was more unnerved by the orc's emotionless stare than by the orc's words. He looked around, a bit worried that there could be a nearby legionnaire overhearing them. Seeing no soldiers, he gave his reply.

"I'm not a Thalmor. I was just a Dominion soldier. The same goes for most of the Dominion army. Only a few of them, like our leaders and some of the mages, are actually part of the Thalmor." This wasn't the first time he had been mistaken for a Thalmor, a lot of people in the Empire seemed to make that mistake. Nonetheless, he found the confusion a bit odd: back in Valenwood, the distinction was pretty clear.

"As for joining the Dominion army, the Thalmor didn't give me much of a choice. One of them told me that he doubted my loyalty to the Thalmor and the only way to change his mind was to join the Dominion army," he replied. There was more to the story, but it was painful and unpleasant to think about. "Maybe he was making it up to get me into the army. But what choice did I have? You know how they treat their prisoners. Imagine how they treat those they think are traitors."

He paused for a second before speaking up again. "But what am I supposed to do? You fellows won't let me out of your sight."