Fenin Lejeune, the Imperial City

The journey had been surprisingly uneventful, barring a brief, vicious thunderstorm which had only halted a little while before he'd arrived at the imposing wooden gates of the Imperial capital, where Fenin found himself standing now. He only had hazy memories of the City from the brief section of his childhood he'd spent there before moving to Bravil, and he was amazed by the stark, white walls surrounding the citadel, a relic of its Ayleidic heritage. The city doors creaked open slowly. Fenin found himself at once swept up by the people entering the city, and went where the crowds led him.

He took in statues, grand hotels, large, stately houses and gardens, and eventually found himself deposited onto a sweeping, curved boulevard around the circumference of a large, round building. Guards in decorated armour brushed past him. This must be Green Emperor Way. And that's the Imperial Palace itself. Sure enough, he gazed upwards, and saw White Gold Tower, that same blazing pillar of white soaring into the sky that he'd seen a short way outside Bravil. I better find somewhere to stay for the night. He wandered around the Way lazily, stopping when he spotted an Imperial Legionnaire he could ask for directions to a cheap, but passable place to stay the night.

"Look for someplace in the Waterfront if you want cheap," said the guard. "But keep an eye on your purse, as it'll be gone if you take your sight off it for so much as a second."

Fenin grinned. "S'alright, I grew up in Bravil. I'm used to that."

He was directed through the Temple district, where he paused for a few moments to view the Avatar of Akatosh, a monument to the sacrifice that the last Emperor, Martin, had made to the city and to Tamriel. His parents had left shortly before the Oblivion crisis had begun, and Fenin remembered little of those turbulent times.

Eventually, he exited the tunnel that led to the Waterfront, and walked around the city's harbour for a short while. He felt something... unusual in this place. As though there was something, someone, that waited for him here. He followed the feeling, curious as to what was drawing him like this. Its thread led him to a boat - though, judging from its sign, one that had been turned into some kind of tavern. The Bloated Float, he read.

I guess I'll stay here.

OOC: I do apologise for my lack of posting, I've been moving house.... sort of so I've managed to construct my computer again now

IC:

Naril Monatacaro: Imperial City

Naril found herself being lead into the Arcane university, in fact this woman; Jentina seemed to have taken it upon herself to drag Naril everywhere. But Naril did not complain, for a start she was too frightened and secondly she felt unnaturally safe being around her although she could think of any reason why. Suddenly with great effort she pulled herself out of her thoughts and found herself standing in front of the Arch Mage.
"I was.. err.. sent for" She stammered. "My name is Naril Montacaro, I'm the rank of Lawman in the Great House Telvanni, you asked me to come here because of.. erm well I'm not sure really."
"Ah yes!" The Arch mage said heartily "Yes I'm glad you made it here from Sadrith Mora. Well now I know you're here you I will speak to the councillors. You may stay in the mage's quarters free of charge for as long as you're here. I'll have someone send for you in the next few days, just don't leave the city."
Naril nodded, still shaking
"Thank you." She whispered before being dragged away again by Jentina.

"So you're from Vvardenfell?" Jentina asked her, Naril was about to reply but she just carried on talking "I lived in Balmora once; worked at Desele's and got my good share of some lovely moonsug?scrib jelly. Mm, yes."
"I live in Sadrith Mora" Naril finally replied when Jentina appeared of have said all she wanted to say. "I miss it too, It must sound crazy to you but I prefer living in the Telvanni mushrooms, I don't like all this cold hard stone."
She shivered and flicked her hair out of her eyes with a twitch of the head.
They were on the waterfront again, and she saw the old Breton/ Imperial man they had met earlier. She thought back to how Jentina had been so harsh towards him and wondered if she should talk to him to at least see what he wanted.
"Ladies," he greeted them. "Please, be seated." He was in a good mood, as he had won a little money in the game. He ordered another drink and sipped it. "So. How did your meeting with the Arch-Mage go?"
"It went.. erm.. very well thank you. What are you playing?" She asked him curiously, although she did genuinely want to know she was very uncomfortable talking about herself and had become very slick at chn=anging the subject from herself to something else without anyone really noticing.

Reynold smiled. "It's just a simple game I learned when I was young. Imagine that." he chuckled. "Two normal dices, one throw per participant. The values of the dices are counted together, but if you get two same values, the value of one dice is added to the two. Say, you get a four and a five, that's nine. If sodder has less than nine, you win. And if you get two fives, its ten plus five, as you have two same values - fifteen. Easy." he sipped his drink again. "And a bit more exciting than the normal variant played everywhere." He pointed his thumb at the stranger he had played with before, who was now sitting at another table, playing again.
"Sodder there got two fives and raised twenty drakes. So confident. You should have seen the look on his face when I rolled two sixes." he chuckled again.
"But I'm digressing again. Comes with getting old, I suppose." His expression turned more serious. Come on, you got to trust them. "All right. Let's get to the point. Have y-" he looked sharply at the doorway.

A tall Imperial man was entering.

"This is bizarre," Reynold said quietly.

The Orc doorman looked Fenin up and down briefly before nodding him through into the main tavern area of the Float. He pushed open the doors and entered a room full of noise, smoke, alcohol - the normal sounds, smells and sights of a crowded and cheap bar. Except for one thing. As he stepped into the room, he heard something; it was muttered, and yet Fenin heard it as clear as if it had been shouted over the din of the Float.

"This is bizarre."

It caught Fenin by surprise, and he started slightly upon hearing it. Scanning the room, he could see no discernable source of the speech, and so walked to the bar and slipped the barkeep a septim or two, all the while wondering where the voice had appeared from. Moments later he took the tankard of ale that had been slid across the bar to him, and took a seat in one corner of the tavern. He took a swig of the ale and decided to concentrate on the feeling that had brought him here. This is the place I should be in, I'm sure of it. It was difficult to pick out a single spot which he felt drawn to more than any other in the rowdy room, but eventually his eyes rested on a place which seemed to be the centre of what he felt. It was a table, and around it sat a young Dunmer woman, a slightly older, more intimidating-looking woman who appeared to be a Breton-Imperial cross, and a considerably older man who looked of the same mix of races as the second woman. Fenin wondered exactly why his eye had settled upon this small, strange group. They the source of where this feeling's coming from? Why?

2 miles outside Cheydinhal

The group progressed. They had explored deeper into the forest, and surprisingly, have not encountered any sort of wild animal or Bandit. A strange feeling crept over the four friends; it put them into a more alert status. But to Julius, it did more.
Over the past few hours, Julius had been sensing something far away, something ... powerful; a combined force. His heart felt as if a forged blade was being stabbed at it, then when they entered this area of the forest, he felt something evil, something disturbed. He'd never felt his stomach so disgusted in his life. Something abnormal was afoot here in the forest.

Thick beads of sweat trickled down Julius' scaly snout and neck. He stopped for a few moments to sip from a small canteen of water. But it didn't seem to help. Nothing seemed to help him at all...
''Something feels dead about this forest...'' Emilia said nervously, and looked around. The trees, the grass, and even the leaves seemed to be a paler color. Gary didn't bother to turn his head, ''You guys are letting this get to your heads...'', the dead silence was deathly ill-fating. Not even a bird was about, strange as it may have been, the group carried on.

Julius purposely fell back a few feet, the pain was beginning to overwhelm him. He wiped his snout with the sleeve of his trench-coat. Thats when he noticed his wrist looked a horribly ugly brown, and that the under side of his trench-coat sleeve had black singes all over it. He pulled back the sleeve, exposing his wrist and forearm. As well as the small sparks that danced around then. Julius frowned at this, and looked away. Energy was building up inside of him, when that happened, his body would let out small 'discharges'.

The pain in his stomach helped out, by forcing an amount of bile up Julius' throat. He barely had enough time to look away before he regurgitated his breakfast, as well as stomach acid and blood on the dry, dead leaves on the forest ground. Gary, Wulf, and Emilia all looked back at their fourth companion, they stopped and were off their horses in a mere second.
As the Argonian finished, he couldn't help but look at the pile of what used to be a slice of Mutton, and two eggs. He didnt notice it at first, but sighed in relief as his stomach felt better. The burning in his heart ceased as well.

Before he could react, someone lifted him up by the armpits and hoisted him upwards. He let out a surprised yelp as Wulf hoisted him upwards to his feet. ''Julius, are you alright?'' he asked, with a serious pair of eyes. Julius was still dazed from the vomiting that he didnt answer at first. When he controlled himself, he merely nodded, ''I am ... now...'', then let out a small weak chuckle, ''Bad breakfast I suppose...''
''I dont know man, you seem to be acting a bit strange lately...'' Gary said from behind Wulf. Emilia nodded in agreement, ''Yeah, I have to agree with him, Julius, your definitely acting different...'' The Argonian suddenly felt nervous, ''I-I'm just nervous about this...'' he lied, ''You guys know me, I get nervous a-a lot...''

Wulf droned slightly, ''Yeah, you have been known to throw up a lot when nervous....'' he sighed, ''We're just worried man ...'' He then patted Julius' shoulder 'softly', he rubbed his now-sore shoulder and mentally grumbled. Why can I never get a break from pain?
Gary and Emilia followed Wulf after giving their lizard comrade a hardening glare. Julius sighed in relief, shrugged his backpack, and followed closely behind them.
----

As the group trekked on, something peculiar happened. At first it was nothing, but then small sparks of electricity danced and ran around the area of Julius' vomit pile. The pale leaves began fading into a dark brown color, as the sparks touched them. The horrid green color of the bile, faded into a black tar-like color. The bile then began to smoke slightly, and slowly broke away as the wind blew upon it.


ooc: Yeah, as weird as it sounds, the vomit was a form of Julius' discharge. His discharges can also be sensed by other Risens, btw, since they are releases of built up energy

Imperial City Docks

Lewen sighed as he stepped off of the Lionheart, he had only two weeks before he had to explain the business aboard the ship to the higher-ups.

Admitadley knowing the Admiral it'll take them three months before they'll think about considering trying to get me to go.
Och I need a drink.
Aye are there any taverns near here?
How the hell should I know? I am you.
Aye that's true.

'Excuse me sir, is there somewhere near here that a sailor could get a drink?' Asked Lewen in one of his rather rare good moods.
'............Oh! You're talking to me? Well there's always the Bloated Float, which is just down there it's that little boat down on the end. said the sleepy watchman.
'Great I get off of a boat to get back on a boat so I can forget about being on the first boat.' Joked the sailor.
'........................Yessir humourous that was.'

Lewen sighed as he strode to the barnacle encrusted tavern, the Orc doorman having let him past with a 'sir' and a salute at the sight of his uniform. Lewen felt an unexplainable pull at his mind when he stepped through the doorway, it seemed to emanate from an older man, seemingly of Breton or Imperial origin.

What in the name of Sheogorath is that?
Probably just some shyster 'mind reader'.
They always seem to get the women.
How so?
Well just look the old guy isn't exactly well, young but he's sitting with two rather attractive young ladies.
Aye, though the dark one seems rather dangerous.

Agreeing to himself that he would sort it out later, Lewen ordered a drink, slipping the waitress an extra septim with a wink.

This is gonna be an interestin night.
Aye.
....Eloquent.

(Sorry for not posting in a while. I got the flu and for the past few days I've been nervous about my teeth operation... They didn't do it ^^ )

Leon reached his house but suddenly he felt like he always did before a black out. He hoped that those who always carried him away wouldn't carry him away now. Or so he thought. Suddenly there was a rather smug grin on his face, his hair grew longer and fuller, his eyes turned strikingly grey and his other features changed to something younger and more handsome. The tired look changed into something more mischievous and almost childlike. But there was no innocense.

Noel had appeared, though he was still nameless and had started to love just that name. 'How should I screw up my brother's life this time, eh?' He asked himself as he streched his arms. The shirt he was wearing appeared slightly looser and a bit shorter but still wearable. The pants appeared tighter. 'Maybe that pretty glowy woman would know, or perhaps that young bosmer. Maybe they'd need help getting rid of the old man.' He spoke to himself cheerily.

'Or how about... I just ignore the fact that they live and head for the brothels?' It was then that his stomach made sounds and he felt thirsty. 'Guess you know everything.' He grinned and patted his stomach. He headed for his favourite place, the bloated whatsitcalled. He was never good at the names of things, the inn could be bloated corpse for all he cared.

Walking by women, Noel squeesed their asses and quickly stepped on the other side of the road when people came by. The women always stopped and nagged some man's head off. Always. Noel Grinned at it. IT was almost as much fun as getting into a fight at a tavern or beating up some random guy for no reason. It was sport.

The sound of her heels was overcome but the rambunctious voices of the other people in the establishment. As she walked, a drunken Nord was stumbling with his drink all around the room; an annoyed look spread to her features, almost like a savage dog would give you right before he snapped at your throat. The very same Nord began to sing, and as he did such, the dancing came along with it. Well, what came with two left feet lead to clumsiness, and the Nord tripped over himself and nearly fell on top of the small Naril. With an unnatural strength, Jentina promptly pushed the falling man away from her, sending him tumbling to the other side of the bar, oddly sending him to sleep a moment afterward. Twin eyebrows lifted, her eyes trailing from the sleeping oaf, up to the old man. His name has escaped her, but she wasn’t even sure if he had given her a name, and she definitely wasn’t sure what she was drinking at the moment either.

[going to try and change up my writing style to accommodate you guys XD]

"Ladies," he greeted them. "Please, be seated."

Jen gave him an eerie look, before clearing a seat for both Naril and herself. She placed her arm onto the bar, leaning her head in and allowing for her nails to flow through her nearly dried locks. “Barkeep, can I get something strong, please?” The bartend complied and went on to make her drink. Her lips pursed, but before she got the chance to speak, Reynold spoke.

"This is bizarre," Reynold said quietly.

Her eyes narrowed, and she turned around to see the Imperial man at the door, scanning the room. The Imperial stared back at the group, and usually Jen would have either turned around or asked him what his malfunction was, but there was just a lack of words. When she came out of her little trance, she quickly turned around to the old man.

“I’m getting that same feeling that I got with you and Naril,” Her elongated eyelashes batted a few times. How anybody could tell she was a mix was beyond her, because she took it upon herself to look more like her mother than her thief of a father. “He’s definitely..” She looked around, and leaned into Reynold’s space more and whispered. “..One of us.” As she leaned out, she gave Reynold a look.

Reynold nodded. So she understands... good... or bad. But she'd get to know anyway. Vehk, I would have told her anyway.
"He is," he told her in a low voice. Then he pointed at another man in a naval uniform. "There's another one. And if I'm not mistaken, there's one outside, too." He looked at the two women. "And he - or she - is heading here, too." His voice sounded strange even to him. Something was going to happen, and it would happen there and then. "Just stay calm. We don't want to fight them unless we have to."

OOC: Hello.
IC:

Civilisation... Evvereen peered nervously out from behind the massive stone pillar, gazing out at the waterfront with dark eyes worried. Her wings were folded onto her back, her tail just curling up at the tip to prevent it dragging along the ground.

...always a wonderful prospect. Not. She pulled an amulet from her pocket and slipped it over her head, struggling for a moment to navigate it over her horns, before finally it rested around her neck. There, she gripped the blue crystal and murmured the activation. A breeze stirred around her alone, lifting her short brown hair and ruffling her shirt, and then was gone as the illusion fell into place.

Sheogorath's mutant was gone, and a breton remained in place. She frowned at the thought; she could never reveal the real her, never truly feel at ease. Fate, and more specifically Sheogorath, had cheated her.

She lifted a silver-nailed hand to her face, touching the flesh there, before feeling her nose, her mouth, her chin. These at least, were hers to keep, unless the transformation resumed once more. These human features that she coveted, that she had paid in blood, sweat and sanity for her. They were hers.

She shook her head gently, so as not to disturb the illusion settled upon her and began the walk to the bloated float. Crossing the bridge to the docks made her a little nervous; the water seemed so close, and were she to fall into it, she would surely be exposed as what she was; a freak, an abomination and... very nearly, a daedra.

She clenched her fists at the thought. A guard passed her and dipped his head politely. "Good day, Ma'am," he commented as he passed.

She resisted the urge to sneer back at him, and flashed an even, sweet smile, picking up her pace and breaking into a jog as she headed for her target. He would never have acted like that were I still an argonian... she thought, a pained expression crossing her face. Those scales... they held me back. I was always different. Always. Her invisible tail swished and her wings shuffled. ...always. Tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them away.

And then she was there; stood before the Bloated Float, the lowest-class inn in the city. She'd get a room there; the Waterfront was easier to travel from unnoticed, and was much less boxed in, giving her more wing space.

She tucked her hair behind one ear; the gesture might have seemed odd to anyone watching, who could not see the ram-like horns she had to manouvre around, and she pushed through the door and strode up to the bar, eyes unfocused so that she didn't have to meet anyone's eyes.

"I'd like a room, please," she asked tensely. "For the week. And a newspaper."

Ormil nodded and complied. She took her key and paper from the altmer, and looked around the room. Now that she was paying attention... the tension in here could be cut with a knife. A brow furrowed ever so slightly as she took in those around her, her emotional perceptiveness suggesting more was happening than met the eye. ...What exactly is going on here? she wondered.

Noel walked to the bloated float inn in the waterfront district. He immediately saw familiar faces and felt familiar precenses. He didn't go near them incase they would regognise him but he would certainly like to do things to the two girls there. He kept a smug grin on his face, as if he knew a joke no one else did. He walked up to a serving girl and asked for a bottle of the finest wine they had to offer and two goblets, for them both. The girl was in awe and blushed as she bent her knees and rushed off.

Noel looked her go and sat near Jentina by the bar. He admired her with a grin on his face but brushed it off as the serving made put down the two cups and the bottle. She bent down to his head level. 'Im sorry, my lord, but I dont think I can have a drink now. I still have my shift to do. Maybe after that?' She questioned and Noel nodded thoughtfully. A pretty imperial with red flowing hair and a generous bosom. Just how he liked it. Now who's going to share a goblet with me... He sulked like a kid but soon cheered up. Sadness bored him greatly.

There seemed to be many strange people there besides the usual evening drunkards. But he couldn't care less as long as he heard what the group his brother had been with today said.

(OMAGA OMAGA OMAGA IT'S THE VSTER Hai ^^)

Fenin Lejeune, the Bloated Float

Fenin sat and stared at his ale. The feeling emanating from the table where the three people sat had been joined by other, similar ones, and also a creeping sense of unease, as though something big was on its way. His eyes scanned the room again, stopping wherever they naturally found themselves resting. A tall Nord, taller than him, in some kind of naval uniform. A confident-looking young Imperial, grinning away to himself at the bar. And, again, his gaze was drawn to that group of three people across the tavern from him. He had a clear view of them now, and saw the intimidating-looking woman looking right at him. She looked more Breton than Imperial, but Fenin, an Imperial himself, vaguely recognised the features of his own race. She appeared to be trying to hide her Cyrodilic heritage. After a moment, she turned back round to the older man and whispered something.

"One of us."

As clear as day. Fenin hastily took a gulp from his ale and used the few moments to think. One of us? Am I hearing things? Why was she looking at me? Why is she hiding her Imperial blood? What the hell's going on with this... feeling... anyway? Almost at once something pulled at him from outside, something strange, almost there and not-there. He realised he was panicking. Calm down... you're probably feeling paranoid from what happened back in Bravil. Your mind's playing tricks on you.

The metal flagon thunked onto the wooden table as he put down his drink, and Fenin regained his composure, but that sense of something on its way would not subside...

OOC:

Talking to Fenin...
IC:

Evvereen frowned at the scene she could see unfolding. A table of three- two women, one man- seemed to dominate the room, the provocative female in particular. She followed their gaze- all of them seemed to be staring at one man, who was nervous, if his expression was anything to go by.

Her tail swished invisibly and she rolled her eyes heavenwards. Was she really going to do this?

Well, I can't exactly leave him alone. That breton looks like she'd eat him... She shuddered. Picking her way across the room with light, graceful steps, Evvereen approached the imperial.

"Hello," she said nervously, "Um... is this seat taken?" she indicated a chair at his table. Since there were many free chairs, she hoped he would assume she was asking to sit with him. Her manner was subdued, respectful, quite humble, and she was hoping that maybe she could... what? What did she want to do?

Help him... or something. I don't know. At least make him feel more at ease... For some reason, she felt nervous about it all herself. Picking up on the vibe of the room, I guess. she thought. Always been a little too sensitive.

But also... this would be the first time she really interacted with someone in a long time. The fear of rejection was very near to the surface. And... well, her paranoia had increased ten-fold when Sheo had changed her.

Fenin had calmed down a little, but remained wary of the group at the table across from him, and couldn't help wondering.

One of us...?

Thinking it over, he became aware of something moving towards him. That there-and-not-there feeling he'd felt returned again. Maybe I should just - and his train of thought was cut off as he heard someone addressing him.

"Hello," he heard, and glanced up to see that the word had come from a young Breton woman standing at his table. "Um... is this seat taken?" she asked with a nervous, but still respectful tone to her voice, gesturing at an empty chair at his table.

"No, you can sit here if you like," he replied, a little caught off-guard but slightly pleased. Good to have someone to talk to, I haven't spoken to anyone properly in a while now... it'll take my mind off all the crazy things which've been going on in the last few days.

He took a small gulp of ale as he waited for her to sit, then spoke; "I'm Fenin. Woodsman, decent enough alchemist. Enough septims to get you a drink if you'd like. You?"

"No, you can sit here if you like," he replied. He didn't look too put out by the idea, and she felt the tense knots in her stomach ease a little. She turned the chair to one side, resting her elbow on the back of the chair. It was a casual enough stance, but it secretly allowed her to sit comfortably in spite of tail and wings.

Her lips stretched in a flickering smile as she sat down, her eyes surveying him, curious as to what would happen next and wary of any negative reaction. He gulped his ale while she sat down, and Evvereen wondered what was passing through his mind. Can he see through me? Is he really okay with me sitting here? What are we going to talk about? Her internal monologue got faster and faster until he spoke.

"I'm Fenin," he said, and she dipped her head in acceptance of this. "Woodsman, decent enough alchemist. Enough septims to get you a drink if you'd like. You?"

She smiled widely, her dark eyes alight. "Very to the point," she said, relieved that she would not have to scrabble for things to talk about. His abrasive manner was refreshing to her. "I'm Evvereen- traveller, good at- er, redistributing, items and information," Her lips quirked up ever so slightly at the corner again as she said this, knowing what it sounded like and not caring. Her eyes moved to something over Fenin's shoulder, a glimmer in her vision.

Is that... but that can't be... she thought. She paled briefly, and gulped, losing the thread of her conversation. Ignore it... She wasn't in a position to investigate it... people always stared...

She returned her gaze to Fenin after only a few seconds, hoping her lapse wouldn't be noticed, or would be put down to something more normal. "I'll pass on the drink; I don't like to owe people." Honest enough, though with hindsight it might be considered a bit rough of her. "What, uh, what brings you to the City, Fenin the Woodsman?" she asked, moving on.

The Breton smiled at his introduction. "Very to the point," she said. "I'm Evvereen- traveller, good at- er, redistributing, items and information," she continued, not seeming too bothered at what she had implied.

Fenin raised an eyebrow. "Fair enough, uh, whatever you're good at." A thought struck him. Information? Could she possibly... know about what happened in Br- no, there's no way... nobody saw me going out of Bravil... He snapped back into reality and noticed that Evvereen appeared to have lost track of the conversation too. He looked at her carefully as she spoke again.

"I'll pass on the drink; I don't like to owe people," she said replying to his earlier offer. He nodded in acknowledgement, not too disappointed at being able to save an extra septim should he need it. "What, uh, what brings you to the City, Fenin the Woodsman?"

"It's Fenin Lejeune if you want to address me fully; I have Breton ancestry... and a lot of things bring me here," said Fenin by way of reply. Any investigator worth their salt wouldn't ask straight off like that if they knew what'd happened. Besides, she seems genuine. "It's a long story, the exact details of which even I'm not sure about. The only thing that's really clear is that I can't go back to Bravil - my hometown - for a while. I came to the City because I was born here, seemed the most logical place to come."

He leaned back in his chair. "And you? What's drawn you to the City?"

Axel pushed the door open slowly, it was loud inside, he had heard that from outside, but the pungent smell of smoke and ale was something that he could never have prepared for, consuming his senses and almost knocking him into a trance. Axel had seen nothing like this, growing up and living in such a sheltered almost shut off society.

Axel stumbled in further, regaining some control. He had noted the eyes in the room turn to him and the noise levels drop as he had entered, but as he reached the bar, the attention of the room averted back to its original stance and he hoped he hadn't put on too much of a show.

His senses were still weak; he could feel them draining away as if the very smell of the air was a separate life force, pulling at him, forcing him into a trance. The same trance he had felt only that morning. Was it the smell; or something different, more powerful? Axel scanned the room, his eyes picking up on the variants of class and persona that spread across the ships wooden floor, a large group sat in the corner, something drew his attention to them, an older man and another, both surrounded by young women.

"Can I help you?" It was an Altmer, stood behind the bar, a ragged cloth in his hand and a brown stained apron sat across his chest. He had a kind face, comforting to the slightly nauseous Nord.

"Erm?" Axel took a while to gather his thoughts, remembering what the guard had told him earlier that day.

If you're looking for cheap, head to the Waterfront, the inn on the water can offer you a bed for a bob."

"I'd like a room please, and perhaps an apple?" Axel felt his stomach rumble as he'd said it, noting that he had not eaten since he arrived in the great city.

The barman simply nodded, turning away to a cupboard at the back of the bar. Axel looked around the room once more, this time his gaze focused on a couple both sat in the corner of the room, both Imperial from as far as Axel could see, however there was something screaming at him that something in the room was so wrong. The youngish lady sat awkwardly, her back against Axel, her arm rested upon the top ridge of the chairs carved back.

Something was wrong, and Axel almost jumped as he was tapped on the shoulder, the barman handing over his apple and room key, now equipped with a sarcastic grin at the Nord.

"That'll be 13 Septims please."

Naril Montacaro: Imperial City

One hand was clutched around her amulet, and Naril could feel herself shivering. There was suddenly so much energy in the room, so much in fact that she was completely oblivious to Jentina and the old man talking although she was aware of two more presences entering the room... her skin was burning but her insides were cold she had a strong desire to throw up.
"Excuse me a moment, I don't feel so well." Naril spoke as clearly as she could, before standing up and seeing another man entering the Boated Float. It happened again. Her vision changed;

No longer did the physical realm exist, she could see the very souls of the people that walked the earth. Some stood out more strongly than others and she noticed how they each bore a mark. Yet it was no visible describable mark there was something within them, something hidden.. powers normal people shouldn't have.

Naril stumbled slightly, what she had seen had lasted only a second but it felt like an eternity she had been staring into the depths of these peoples souls. She walked quickly from the room, one hand wrapped tightly around her waist and the other clutching the amulet as though her life depended on it. All she knew was that she had to go somewhere private where no one would see her.
Although she would not be able to recall any of this when it would end, she was very conscious of what she was doing. The hot and cold feelings were getting worse, one minute sweat would cover her body the next she would be shivering uncontrollably.
What is happening to me? She asked herself as she walked as quickly as she could away from the busy bustling docks. Her feet were directing her and although she didn't know where she was going she knew it was to a place where she would not be found.
After much pushing through the crowds of the Imperial City's shoppers she found herself going into a warehouse in the Market District. She shut the door carefully behind her and let her body fall on the cold tiled floor. It felt so good against her burning skin. Naril stripped off knowing that was what she was meant to do by instinct. Her transformation was not painful she watched, as though expecting it, her feet and hands grow into grotesque claws, her normally white skin obtained a purple tinge and her eyes became white, white as the full moon.

She stood up, with a slightly hunched figure to accommodate her larger than normal toes and feet. Her sight was not of the normal physical world, she could see people for miles around as though an extremely powerful detect life spell had been placed upon her. But it was not the life she could see, it was the souls, the inside of someone, their inner most fears and secrets were laid before her eyes. Not too far away she saw a group of people the power of their souls stronger than normal. She could see a woodsman, a sorceress, a schizophrenic and someone who had been marked by a Daedric lord. But there was no time for looking. Naril had to do what she was meant to do. Her eyes scanned spiritual world passing over the healthy but troubled people and then pausing to linger on someone who had a black cross upon the centre of their soul.
You... you are the one. Marked by the Night Mother and the Dark Brotherhood it is within your foreseeable future to die
And that was that. Naril had chosen her target.

OOC: I have done this because I don't want Naril to find out she is a Risen just yet. Also just before I cause a potential uproar about Naril knowing things she shouldn't, she wont remember anything she has seen or done when she becomes normal again.

( OOC: What time of day is it? PM me and then i will edit in an IC. )

Lewen was on his third ale when he heard 'There's another one.' said in a low, conspiratorial tone by the older Breton/Imperial hybrid, Lewen turned to face them fully. Seeing a beautiful Breton talk to an Imperial and the thre...no four seated near the bar having been recently joined by a young Imperial.

I mean it is the Imperial City but damn there's alot of Imperials here.
Mmmmm, is the tug coming from........ them?
Wait the tiny Bosmer is leaving.
Hmm these people all showing up on the same day at the same time in the same place. I don't like it.
Really? by your speech I thought you would've wanted to drink with them.
Not a bad idea.
....................I hate me so very much.

Lewen walked over to the three now sitting at the bar and promptly sat down in the vacated Bosmer's seat. Completely ignoring his new neighbours Lewen concentrated on two things: One, that the fork in the hand of the barman wouldn't fly out of his hand and Two, that he wouldn't return his lunch having felt more nauseous as he moved closer to the ragtag group.

OOC: crappy post but...........you know

ooc: Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe its almost nightfall.

2/5 Miles outside Cheydinhal

''Admit it Gary...your lost'' Wulf sneered at the Redguard as their horses slowly walked down the strange path. Gary was reading through the diary before gave his friend a look, ''I ain't lost, in fact, we're close...''
Wulf droned heavily, ''Right...'' Then looked up at the sky, ''I reckon we have a few hours before nightfall, so we should pick up the pace. How you feeling back there, Jules?''

Julius trailed behind Wulf and Emilia's horse a few feet. ''I'm alive...'' He said, almost like a whisper. The heart-burning sensation had returned, not as bad as before, but this time it was different. Previously, he sensed a power far away, very far away; now, it was close.
I don't like this...

He nearly jumped as he stepped into something moist. He looked downwards to see that he was no longer walking on grass, but on a dark brown soil. In fact, there was a perfect circle right around him. His internal sensor went haywire then, something was close, very close. He looked around frantically, trying to see anything 'out of place'. Nothing seemed to be, until he focused his sight on something. It was a large pine, to Julius, it looked as if it went on into the sky. A large, tall growth was covering up its trunk though.

The others didn't notice Julius stopping and approaching the tree, they continued on as if nothing was happening. The Argonian didn't notice at first, but he began breathing heavier and faster. He was literally panting when he was but a few feet from the tree. As he moved a brush away from the trunk, Julius startled a black bird. It zoomed out of its hiding spot, and began cawing angrily at the lizard. Julius screamed and fell backwards on his rump, it wasn't the bird that scared him.

Immediately, the sound of galloping horses could be heard. Gary, Wulf and Emilia hurried around their comrade. Wulf knelt down by the seemingly mind controlled Argonian, his gaze was focused directly in front of him. The Imperial followed it, and him too, became hypnotized at what he saw; It was a skeleton. A skeleton was chained to the tree, rusty chains and shackles were tied against its wrists, chest, and ankles. And it wasn't any ordinary skeleton; it was an Argonian skeleton. The long pale bone that used to be its tail, hung their lifelessly on the bony carcass. ''My god...'' Emilia murmured and walked up to the tree. Underneath the skeleton was in fact, a mark. A rather large mark at that covered the bottom area of the trunk; It was the letter 'T', with two diagonal lines coming downward from both sides of the horizontal line that formed the top of the letter. The symbol itself, was written in some sort of dark crimson paint.

Gary was the first to recover, he swallowed deeply, ''Well...'' he started, ''...I think we found the marked pine...''

OOC: Just to clarify, Evvy isn't Risen. Also that's alright by me, Halfy; it's your characters power afterall.

@Arathorn: careful with the 'screaming wrong' thing; she's under Illusion, that position shouldn't be that fishy, afterall people sit strange all the time, and she isn't a Risen so you shouldn't sense her. I know that might not have been exactly as I read it, so sorry if it looks like I've jumped on you over nothing.



Evvereen's gaze became clearer and more focused as he mentioned it being 'a long story', and she nodded slowly when he said that the Imperial City seemed the logical place to come.

After he asked her the same, she adjusted in her seat, tail swishing. Her eyes wavered on his face and then she looked away as she briefly pondered the question- why had she come here. When she had settled on an answer her eyes lifted once more. "I guess... it's a bit of an escape for me, too. Again... long story, but, well... I figured if there was anywhere someone could try and fit in, it'd be the Imperial City."

Her hand slid to the sword hilt at her waist; she brushed the daedric pommel of her sword; not in a threatening manner, more absent-mindedly than anything. She leaned forwards, elbows on table and resting her chin in her hands. Her short hair fell into her eyes; she shook her head slightly to move it. "I probably should have tried somewhere else," she said, looking at all those around her in the room. "This seems like a much more 'normal' place than I had hoped. There isn't any hope of finding acceptance amongst so many hu- uh, city folk." She blushed slightly as she corrected herself; slipping into her argonian ways would not be beneficial to this conversation. He might even deduce the true nature of her form.

...and then the hunt will be on, and I'll have nowhere to go but back to the stinking Madhouse, just like he promised... She looked down, gritting her teeth at the thought, and then moved on, hoping to draw Fenin's attention from her slip. She felt someone's eyes boring into her, so she turned around as she spoke. "I... what are you looking at?" she demanded of a frightening-looking nord. She was trying to look intimidating, but anyone could see by the wildness of her eyes that she was nervous.

"...It's rude to stare," she added indignantly, but he was already turning around. Oh Gods, why was he staring at me, what did I do? Is my Illusion still on? ...well, it has to be or Fenin would have said something.

Does he know? Has he seen me before, or heard about me or something? Is this common knowledge or something?

He can't know... please Gods, he can't know.

Are you so sure about that?

Butt out, Sheo, I didn't mean you.

She turned back to Fenin, a faint blush mantling her cheeks. "Sorry about that, she murmured, not meeting his eyes. If nothing else, he'd think she was a crazy lady for being so confrontational.

Wouldn't even be wrong...

EDIT: Just realised he turned back around.

When Jentina spoke of the man being 'one of us', she really had no clue what they were. All she knew was that the man had some sort of pull to him, the same feelings she got when she had met some of the other people. They all were like magnets, and eventually they were all going to come together and clash; it was only a matter of time and Jen knew that somebody was going to happen. Eyes remained fixed upon the Imperial, almost as if she was trying to read him ? but her concentration was broken when Naril had taken off in a flurry of food and mugs left behind her when she left (not really, just trying to exaggerate how fast she left XD) Her eyes widened slightly.

"Something wasn't right about that.."

She spoke to Reynold, but she kept staring through the windows by the door. When she snapped out of her gaze, she looked to the man sitting next to her that gave her a perverted-ish stare. Thin eyebrow lifted, and she gave him a smirk before?another man had taken Naril's seat. All the while, she had forgotten the drink she had next to her. Those strong turquoise hues moved straight to the cup, her hands immediately grasping the handle and bringing the brim to her lips. She took a long sip of the drink, almost immediately downing the whole thing on the first try; she felt sorry for any man trying to drink her under the table.

Her fingers moved through her long locks ? that were dry now, but nonetheless baring some light curls. Pressing a lock between her middle and her index finger, she looked down to the curl and shrugged. "Maybe I should do my hair like this more often.." She spoke to herself, and really anybody who was listening. She was growing tired of this place, and when she grew bored, she got very destructive.

Her ears picked up the sound of a little cat fight going on behind her. Turning her head in the general direction, a woman was yelling at that same Nord that she had pushed over not too long ago ? seems like he awoke from his little nap. The other man sitting at her table was the Imperial she was staring at before. A grin spread to her lips, and she stood up from her place at the bar and began to walk over to the table. Her hips swayed side to side, moving to their own beat. She placed her hands upon the wooden table, leaning herself over, letting her very visible cleavage fall, allowing the Imperial a quick peek.

"You..mind if I take a seat?" Her feline tone had taken on a hint of sultry, and if they had said no, she took a seat anyways and she dared anybody that tried to move her. "I'm Jentina." She looked to the both of them, a confident smirk was featured upon her crimson tiers. "It's so nice to meet you."

OOC: Man, am I confused about who's sitting where.
IC:
It was too much, too quickly. The girl left, almost running, the woman left to another table, there were these strange people everywhere. Reynold felt surrounded, trapped. Even if he had been the one who had summoned the two women here. Obviously, the sensation they made together drew the others there, too. They were all there, just what he had wanted. Or had he? Now that they were there, he didn't know what to do. But if he did nothing, they'd most likely leave, like the girl had. And why did he want to be with them so desperately? The strange pull he felt was getting unbearable. He'd-

The world changed. It became bigger, more palpable, deeper. Reynold blinked. He could see tiny spiders running on the ceiling. He could hear everything that was said in the inn, and the footsteps of people outside. He could feel the roughness of the chair he was sitting on, and the vibration as a fish hit the side of the ship. He smelt the dusk. He tasted the smoke in the air. He also felt something more than he had been moments ago. Like he understood the world at last.

But mostly, he felt annoyed.

He was frustrated with himself. He should have taken control of the situation ages ago.

And now he knew what to do.

"Excuse me," he grunted to the man who had sat in the girl's place, and rose. He walked to the bar.
"I need to talk to the proprietor," he said to the tender.
"That would be me, what do you want?"
Reynold grabbed the man's collar across the counter. "Is that how you talk to a patron? I help you make your living, kid!" he sneered in his face.
The fellow's eyes widened. "Hey!" he cried out, attracting a few glances from around. "Take it easy..."
Reynold let him free and took a deep breath. "I want you to empty the inn," he told him.
The owner stared. "You... want me to empty the inn?
"Well, not the whole place, of course. I'll pick a few who'll stay."
"Look, that's ridiculous. I can't do that."
"I'll make you do it."
"But for Talos' sake, why?"
"That's none of your business. Do it."
"The hell am I doing it! Hey, bouncer!"

Reynold was quicker than the bouncer. In a leap that nobody could expect a man of his age do, he jumped on the nearest table, spilling drinks around. One of its occupants rose, hands in fists. Reynold kicked him in the face. He fell with a sickening snap.
"HEY!" he yelled. Nobody noticed it in the common noise of a tavern. He flung a fireball at the ceiling. It wasn't strong enough to set the place ablaze, but it did make a sound. The place went quiet.
"I want you to leave the inn. All of you. Except a select few who know I'm talking about them," he said calmly. There was laughter and disbelieving sounds. He raised his hands and put them together above his head, creating a huge ball of fire around them. There was screaming, and the crowd began to rush out.

OOC (edit at Tabasco): Naril's legged it, Lewen and Noel are sitting with you, and me, Jentina and Evvereen are at a table in the corner.

Had to edit, Tabasco posted right before me...

IC: "I guess... it's a bit of an escape for me, too. Again... long story, but, well... I figured if there was anywhere someone could try and fit in, it'd be the Imperial City." Fenin knew better than to question any further, and nodded after Evvereen had finished replying. He noticed for the first time the sword she had at her side as she ran her hands over the pommel of it. It looked almost Daedric. That's some piece of equipment. "I probably should have tried somewhere else," she added, glancing around the room. "This seems like a much more 'normal' place than I had hoped. There isn't any hope of finding acceptance amongst so many hu- uh, city folk." Fenin noticed her blush slightly, and was about to speak... And then all of a sudden there was a flurry of activity, as he first registered the Bosmer at the table across from him thrusting her mug down and hastily exiting the tavern. Then he was snapped back to what was happening in front of him, as Evvereen suddenly spoke harshly to a Nord who had been looking at her.

"I... what are you looking at?" she said, failing to keep the nervousness from her voice. "...It's rude to stare." But the Nord had already turned around, and she turned back to Fenin, her cheeks still a little flushed. "Sorry about that," she apologised.

This time Fenin managed to get a word in before he was cut off. "I -" he said, before halting as he noticed more activity from the table across the room. The one remaining woman had gotten up and was walking straight towards them. He tracked her movement across the room, looking not directly at her but keeping her in the corner of his vision. She reached the table, put her hands down on it and leant towards him. Fenin was very careful to not look down her shirt as she leant there - his trouble sensors were well-honed, and they screamed trouble at the sight of this woman. He didn't want to do anything that could start something. The atmosphere in this tavern was tense enough already.

"You..mind if I take a seat?" she asked, sitting down anyway before Fenin or Evvereen could answer. "I’m Jentina," she said, her voice taking on a deliberately seductive tone. "It’s so nice to meet you."

"Likewise," said Fenin carefully. "I'm Fenin." That feeling was stronger now that she was sat so near to him. Am I being paranoid again? What does this woman want anyway?

All of a sudden, he heard a crash, and saw the old man kicking the bouncer in the face, and the Orc fell to the ground. The old man yelled, but failed to attract the attention of anyone, and then flung a fireball at the ceiling. That got the tavern's attention.

Maybe I wasn't being paranoid after all.

"I want you to leave the inn. All of you. Except a select few who know I'm talking about them," he said coolly.

He's talking about me. I know it.

His claim was met by disbelieving laughter, but that quickly turned to cries of alarm as he readied another fireball. The majority of tavern-goers ran; Fenin stayed exactly where he was.

I'm going to find out exactly what this guy wants. And why he's so interested in me.