(OPEN)- Reaching Horizons

[Geel-Kajin]

POST BY GOOGLE(Live rp summary)

(Vistha-Kai's point of view)


The sounds of lighting, steel, and terror filled the inn. The locals moved quickly and in shock as they looked for places to hide and flee from the chaos that has taken center stage. Vistha, alongside his fellow Argonian guild master, charged into the fight to engage the hostiles and aid the Dunmer who had already confronted one of the hostile thugs that have invaded the inn.

Vistha, without a single weapon on him, noticed an imperial wielding a two-handed farmers scythe and threatening the townsfolk to run. Surely these thugs where poorly equipped, possibly just poor individuals who think that killing us would change the course of their pitiful lives into something more. For a moment Vistha felt sorry for them, but they chose their own destiny when the accepted this job. The imperial noticed me sprinting to his position and, wildly and with focus, took a swing at Vistha, but he evaded it by sidestepping the clumsy attack. To counter the imperial, Vistha grabbed the end of the scythe and pulled the weapon free from the imperial's grasp by kicking him in the chest and forcing the imperial to lose his grip on the scythe.

Before the imperial could regain his footing, Vistha had already taken a fighting stance with the scythe. The imperial looked at Vistha in fear for the moment, most likely for the image that Vistha knew matched that of the grim reaper, a dark robbed death dealer with the the grim destiny of death as a weapon, which was usually represented as a scythe. Taking advantage of the imperial's fear, Vistha swung the scythe sideways as to cut at the imperial's fur armored chest. However, the imperial had already drawn a dagger from his belt holster and reacted to the swing with impressive speed by rolling under the attack. Once the roll ended, he quickly regained his footing and sprinted toward Vistha with the sharp dagger. Instead of dodging the assault, Vistha continued his sideways swing and, with great speed, spun around to confront the imperial by surprise. Luckily, the imperial was too close to react and was horribly decapitated. The head fell to the ground as the blood erupted from the new corpse that was once an imperial thug.

Vistha regained his composure quickly, if only a little shell-shocked at the headless body that was once a living imperial. He would not, however, dwell on the imperial's death when his guild master was still in the fight. Turned to aid he's comrades, Vistha was surprised and a bit delighted to see that they had the situation under control. A Nord, the only still breathing of the thugs, stood in defiance of the two armed individuals before him. Vistha moved quickly to stand side-by-side with his comrades, hoping to threaten the Nord to see reason and to stand down, but before he could speak, the guild master shot forth a fire spell at the thug's armored chest, causing the Nord to loss his footing and collapse onto the ground. He was in great pain, suffering from the fire spell's burning efficiency, but Vistha was more worried about he's argonian comrade. Vistha, as a sign of reassurance, put a hand on the other argonian's shoulder. "I know what it's like, to go into a bloody rage after the shock of battle. But don't let that rage consume you and cload reality! We need that Nord, alive to find out why these fools have attacked us." Turning to the Dunmer, Vistha asked, "Do you have something to help with the Nord's bleeding? We don't want him bleeding out before we can question him."

The other argonian came to his senses and, alongside the Dunmer, healed the Nord just enough to prevent him from bleeding out. Vistha took a step back as they did this, soon followed by the argonian guild master. The Dunmer, on the other hand, put a sword to the Nord's neck and began to question him. While they did this, Vistha quietly asked the argonian a question. "How are you holding up?"

"They are hired men of Thane Soldin," the argonian said, "one of the main enemies of the Pact. We haven't received much information, but we've heard that the man is an anarchist. He'd rather let Skyrim fall to pieces than to join forces as part of the pact"

"Sounds like a dangerous man," said the Dunmer, "those who wish anarchy are often the most dangerous, as they have nothing really to lose if they fail. What should we do with his minion here then? Turn him in to the guards?"

Vistha nodded in agreement with the Dunmer as he tossed the farming scythe to the ground since he did not wish to carry it around. "Turning him in would be best. The town can hold him in a cell, and maybe get some more answers out of him later. Besides," Vistha said with a hint of humor, "I think the locals want to have a word with the Nord that led the raid against such a fine inn as this one."

As they moved into the forest outside the town, the Dunmer looked back to call for a halt his two companions. "Well that was interesting. I am Drayle by the way, House Telvanni."

Vistha was suprised by the Dunmer, for he did not expect to ever meet a Dunmer noblemen way out here in the Black Marshes. "It is good to meet you, Drayle. I am Vistha-Kai, last survivor of the Dark Rangers and a new initiate of the Striders. I must say that I did not expect you to be a Dunmer noblemen, and a noble of House Telvanni at that. It is truly an honor. They have aided me and the Dark Rangers before that guild dissolved. A pity they did not join the Ebonheart Pact. We could have used their support in these dark times." Vistha turned to the guild master. "And what about you, my mysterious guild master. I've had no information about you short of the fact that you are an argonian that stands out in a crowd."

The guild master must have taken offence at argonian's words, and instead proceeded to greet the Dunmer, much to Vistha's amusement. "Well met, Drayle. I am Itan, and I was sent by the pact in their goal for peace in our times. I am to lead a Guild to combat threats to the pact's survival, and carry out it's ways."

"A guild you say, I heard whispers of such things before the fighting broke out. I may be Telvanni by blood, but I believe the pact and the Tribunal will be our guiding light in these times of darkness." When Itan asked what brought the Dunmer to these parts of Tamriel, Drayle shrugged, "I am a wanderer looking for a cause I suppose. The state of Argonia has been going through some tough times in the last few years, I figured it would be a good place to help."

Suddenly, an unknown argonian dropped onto the path in front of the Vistha and his companions, drawing three arrows on his bow from the quiver that hanged on his back and aimed for each of their hearts. "Striders?" the argonian said in what sounded as a poor attempt to intimidate us. This suprise was followed by another, as a unknown Dunmer moved into position behind argionian. The dark elf drew his sword and emerged from the shadows. Before the new argioian could react, the Dunmer placed his blade up to his throat. "Not so fast there Scales, why don't you put down that bow before someone gets hurt? and by someone a mean you." The stranger addressed the other three while keeping his eye's firmly on the argionain. "Would you fellows like me to bring you over his head or would you prefer to deal with him yourself? oh and by the way, I take my rewards in gold or gems."

Vistha was amused by this random event and began to clap his hand slowly while chuckling at the performance. Vistha turned to face the Dunmer. "Bravo, my dear boy! I must say that this was an amusing attempt to rob us. However, I'm sorry to say that it was also a poor attempt. That argonian was hardly threatening, you were too quick to "save" us to simulate a realistic rescue, and you chose to pick on three skilled fighters that have just mopped the floor with a bunch of armed thugs not so long ago. I would normally tell you to bugger off before you get into any more trouble, but since that argonian fellow knows of the Striders, I must ask how he knows of us and why is it important to him."

Vistha then turned to look the argonian in the eye's. "So, my argonian friend, you have found the Striders. Did you just want to ask and leave us be, or is there a more important reason for you asking?"

Noticing that the Dunmer still had a blade to the argonian, Vistha waved him down. "You should put that away before you hurt someone, and we don't want that now do we?"

[Darth Meeb]

Drayle nodded to Vistha-Kai, he found it interesting that the Argonian man bore no dislike for his House, as the Telvanni did often employ the use of slaves, particularly Argonian and Khajiit slaves.  While Drayle certainly did not condone the practice of keeping slaves, that didn't mean the Magisters of Sadrith Mora thought the same.  Since the Ebonheart Pack brought together the Nords Dunmer and Argonians there had been thoughts of abolishing slavery in Morrowind, but many of the farmsteads were so dependent on it the Lords of house Dres convinced the Tribunal it would be wiser to let things remain as they were for now.  Even so the Telvanni would not be swayed by such Ebonheart laws, which Drayle was somewhat saddened about.  Even so it gave him a certain feeling of freedom when he thought about it; his people did not join the Ebonheart Pack, yet he could as he was not bound to house Telvanni in any way, not anymore.

The Second Argonian also addressed Drayle first, introducing himself as Itan and mentioning something about a guild.  The Dunmer man was somewhat surprised that a guild master would look so poor, perhaps he was trying to blend into the crowds.  Even so, the opportunity to join a group with similar goals to his own piqued his interest.  "A guild you say, I heard whispers of such things before the fighting broke out.  I may be Telvanni by blood, but I believe the pact and the Tribunal will be our guiding light in these times of darkness."  When Itan asked what brought him to these parts of Tamriel Drayle shrugged, "I am a wanderer looking for a cause I suppose.  The state of Argonia has been going through some tough times in the last few years, I figured it would be a good place to help."

[OnlyAhaark]

Once the madness subsided, Ahaark stepped in through the crack of the door and looked down at the bodies. There was no sign of the striders, Ahaark studied the tavern closely in search of clues. Just as he was about to give up, he smelled it...blood...dunmer blood. A small smile crept about his face and he stepped out of the back door of the tavern

The sun burned ahaark's uncovered skin but he didn't mind, his brain was else where. he saw them, two argonians and a dunmer. Ahaark eyed the group and smiled "Grand entrance time." Ahaark climbed the building nearest to him and rushed ahead of the group of men, sitting on the edge of what smelled like a bakery, Ahaark listened in on the conversation the group was having. "Well met, Drayle. I am Itan, and I was sent by the pact in their goal for peace in our times. I am to lead a Guild to combat threats to the pact's survival, and carry out it's ways. What brings you around to this part of the Pact's realm?" The group as the argonian man spoke, and ahaark dropped on the path in front of the men and drew three arrows on his bow, aiming for each of their hearts... he asked in the darkest voice he could "Striders?"

[Sir Flint]

Since the fight didn't concern him and he wasn't really in the mood to shed blood, Flint quietly slipped out a side door and made his way away from the bar. Deciding that he was in the mood for a little pick pocketing, Flint climbed to the top of one of the nearby buildings  and began to scan the streets for marks. He usually searched for drunk nobles with to much money and not enough sense. however there was a great lack of said nobles tonight so Flint just targeted the common drunks. After he picked his third pocket Flint spotted three of the people who had been fighting earlier. two were argionians that he didn't recognize but the third was a Drummer Flint had heard of before. He knew him as a member of house Telvanni. A noble huh....probably has one of the fattest purses in the city. I'd make more robbing him then i would make in three nights robbing commoners. However, before Flint moved to pick pocket him he hesitated. hmmm.....if there here that means that the other guys lost....which means if i'm seen my odds wouldn't be to good.....As flint stood in the shadows thinking he noticed another argionian approaching  from above with a bow in hand. Flint could tell the three in the street were his targets by the way he was watching them. Saving a noble would be much easier then robing one. I'll just step in and act the hero.

Flint moved into position as the argionian dropped down. he had three arrows in his bow for the three targets.  Huh....bad move lizard. If all three move at the same time you'd be lucky to hit one. plus at that distance they'd be on you before you could reload....Flint drew his sword and stepped out of the shadows. Before the argioian could react Flint placed his blade up to his throat."Not so fast there Scales, why don't you put down that bow before someone gets hurt? and by someone a mean you." Flint addressed the other three in the street while keeping his eye's firmly on the argionain "would you fellows like me to bring you over his head or would you prefer to deal with him yourself? oh and by the way, I take my rewards in gold or gems."

[Darth Meeb]

Just as Drayle finished introducing himself another argonian man jumped down from the roofs above them, drawing back several arrows on his bowstring and inquiring after the striders.  Drayle turned quickly, raising a hand in defense of the possible attack.  To a normal person this would be a completely impractical method of defense, but Drayle was a mage.  If the argonians arrows flew from his string he would have a ward up around himself and his two companions in less than a second, easily deflecting the ranged attack.  

It seemed however he would not need to use any spells, for at that moment another Dunmer man stepped from the shadows, holding a blade to the argonians neck.  Vistha spoke before him, pointing out that the Dunmer mans request for gold and gems was just as much a robbery as the archer was likely attempting.  Drayle gave a small smile at that, they could even be working together to make this little show.  Then again the argonian had mentioned the striders, could he be connected to this "Thane Soldin"?  "I must second my friend here, we were in no significant danger, although an assistance from a noble heart is appreciated I do not believe it is customary for such heros to demand gold and riches, especially preemptively."  Drayle held a note of humor in his voice despite the tense situation.  He couldn't help but the whole situation a bit backwards.  "Anyways I think it would be best if we all lower our weapons at speak like civilized people."

[Geel-Kajin]

As Itan spoke to the Noble, he found his mind drifting away from his words. A terrible tremor had overcome him. How had Thane Soldin's men known of their plans so early? Or more importantly, who told them?Only the candidates, hand-picked by the council, had been briefed beforehand. A rat among them had informed the Thane of his assassination.

Yet...there was the possibility was that the Thane had merely sent his men over to stir chaos, frighten the locals out of supporting a Pact that would put them in close quarters with such barbaric nords. In that case, he was thinking too deeply into the event. Thane Soldin had been known to send his men out to cause trouble. Or possibly,the Thane had heard of the Guild, one of the greatest symbols of the Pact. He could have sent his men to kill them on the spot, as a way of halting the Pact's influence. If it was as such, then their plan was not completely ruined.

Regardless...Itan loathed leaving things up to chance. It was best to assume the worst. If Thane Soldin knew of his assassination, It meant two things: Firstly, their chance of success had dropped by a good deal. The Thane would probably have all kinds of guards crawling at his territory now. Secondly, it meant there was a rat- A man scheming and clever, quiet and discreet. He would either be a member of the council...or a candidate for the Guild.

If it's this bad, I can't afford to trust anyone. I'll pretend that the assassination will be carried out according to the plans, but I'll change the procedure when the Guild's alone. Walls have ears, but in that slim chance that information is still leaked when we're by ourselves....

Owing to his trail of thoughts, he did not have time to react to the upcoming events.

The scene changed in a swirling blur of motion, the conversation of before swept away in the sudden turn in events. From the ashen face of the Dunmer noble, to the faintest creak upon the rooftop, to the tip of three twisted, jet black arrows. All this could only be observed and not acted upon by Itan, who stood stunned as the night once again turned to a shadow of hostility.

There, in the shroud of long, drawn shadows, stood a figure in the black. He seemed insubstantial, almost ghostly in appearance, fading in and out of the darkness that surrounded him. A flicker of moonlight, and the outline of his figure would be seen, pale and shifting. Then the blackness would consume him once again, and he would be lost to Itan's eyes. He could gauge nothing, perceive no detail. The only thing clear to him was that a bow was drawn, and they were it's targets.

The others, they seemed still and unshaken, as if in knowledge of something the figure did not. Yet this scarce assured Itan, for he had no such knowledge- All he knew was that their lives were in terrible danger, and he could not comprehend the strange calmness of the others. Fear, fear wracked him in the full. Fear for his life spurred him to act, to roll out of the way and plunge at the dark. However, he was at the same time held back by that same fear, which told him his single movement might break the deadlock that kept them alive.

So he stood there, frozen, in hopes of many a thing. That they would survive was definitely one of them. But the dire situation seemed to mock that thought, so a dozen more applicable hopes seemed to spill from some forgotten crevice of his mind. Firstly, he hoped that the Guild would survive, and make it on in spite of his rather possible demise. Secondly, he hoped that the arrow wouldn't make too much of a mess, buried deep in his skull. Finally, he hoped the others wouldn't see the terror etched on his face, so he would die with only his own shame.

Yet the arrow never came. Instead, a voice rang from the darkness. "Striders?" It asked, deep and rich with some unholy power. Itan could not comprehend why the others did not answer nor draw their blades, instead standing as they did with only the slightest movement. He realized, from his own lack of understanding, how little he understood of the true nature of battle. Could a Guild be led by such an inexperienced leader?

"Not so fast there Scales, why don't you put down that bow before someone gets hurt? and by someone a mean you." Nevertheless, it appeared that they were saved for the time being. There was a scuffle in the darkness, and then a moment of unclear happenings. One, two, three seconds of silence. When a ray of moonlight once again bathed the scene, there could be seen a blade, shining silver as it pressed against the attacker's throat. A stranger had appeared, his presence having gone unnoticed by all until now. With sword in hand and a grin upon his face, he called out to them from his position."would you fellows like me to bring you over his head or would you prefer to deal with him yourself? oh and by the way, I take my rewards in gold or gems."

Itan drew a shuddering breath, relief filling him as the tension wound down a notch. It was clear that the situation was in control. yet for Vistha-Kai and Drayle, it was almost as if the danger had just begun. It was at this moment that they began to act, their words to the stranger almost scalding in nature.

"Leave the Elf be, he's helped us all the same," Itan said, his body unfreezing. Though combat had never been his strong point, he was confident that he could win over this sellsword, and could avoid paying altogether. Stepping forward, he called "Come down to ground level. We'll discuss the terms here."

[Sir Flint]

Flint decided summed up the three adventurers in his mind before he replied. The first to speak to him was one of the argionians and from his reply Flint immediately disliked him. He's cocky and arrogant......I hate arrogance. He also thinks this is some form of set up....an act of sorts. what a fool. what kind of act would have one actor offer to kill the other?  This annoyed Flint. What also annoyed him was the nerve of the argionian. His people should remember their place. It's a miracle he's walking around this city a freeman.

Flint then turned his attention to the second one to reply to him, the Dummer lord. He's arrogent too.....though less so. Due to the dummer lord being part of the aristocracy, Flint expected him to be somewhat arrogant so his attitude annoyed him less. He's entitled to his arrogance......as i will be some day. what annoyed Flint more then anything was when the Dummer stated that it was not Flints place to demand rewards. humph....arrogant and cheap....

Finally Flint turned his attention to the other argioian, the only one to actually acknowledge his help and not come across as cocky. This one....i like this one. Flint decided that if there was any chance of him getting a reward it would be from him. with that Flint put on a smile and addressed them. "demand a reward? why sir you insult me. As if a man of honor such as my self would ever demand a reward. i was simply stating my preference for future reference. As for this being an act, I can assure you that me and scaly here have never met before, hence my offer to provided you with his head. However if it is peace you wish then it is peace you shall have. however...Flint tapped the argioian beside him twice on the head with the flat of his sword "If scaly here shoots me in the back you three are paying for my medical bills" with that Flint sheathed his sword and made his way towards the trio. as he walked he called over his shoulder "you coming scale's?"

[Google]

Vistha gave a hearty chuckle at the Dunmer's expression from his blunt accusation, and was pleased to see the elf was quick to stay cool and explain the situation. Apparently, he claimed to be helping them and not robbing them. Vistha highly doubted the elf's motivation behind the "assistance" with the hostile argonian. With such a cleaver tounge, Vistha could safely assume that this was a thief with experience in the art of his trade. He hoped that the others would not be so quick to trust the Dunmer, but something told him that they were the trusting sort.

Putting on a cunning smile while taking on an aggressive yet witty vocal tone, Vistha spoke directly to the approaching stranger. "I apologize if my words have offended you, stranger. I was merely suspicious of this unexpected incident, and am still a little wary from a recent skirmish. Surely, we shall drink down all unkindness and be merry with conversation."

[Geel-Kajin]

Hearing Itan's words, the rooftop figure paused for awhile, and with his blade still demanding the obedient stillness of the other , he retreated into a state of contemplation. So calm they were that when the moonlight basked them in rays of gentle whiteness, the two seemed but marble statues, gargoyles upon some goth rooftop. They were like sculptures, unmoving, unwavering. Neither could, nor would, escape the position they were in- The presence of the blade was all that stood between their stone bodies and death by the other.

It was almost ironic to think that in all the terror of the night, in all the tension of this scene, Itan began to feel a certain tranquility. The painful spurs of terror that plagued him before were gone, driven away by this brief moment of appreciation that was his alone. Before him, upon the dingy gray shingles of some filthy, horrid roof, was a work of art- An art that only he, in his previous frenzy and fear, could reach the required insanity to see. True, he knew that their origins were not of sleek, cold stone, but of the pulsating, twitching matter that made up blood, bone and sinew. Yet for a brief second he could forget that, and appreciate the intensity of their pose, the richly carved features upon their faces. He could in that brief second forget that, and in turn forget the dirt that clung to him and the metaphorical burden on his shoulders. He could forget the rage that could possess him, the fear that could destroy them and best of all, lost in the fantasies of art and beauty, he could forget that the world was but a disappointing reality.

However, that brief second passed by, and Itan's strange musings were over. The sculptures moved, and the artwork came to an end. The blade fell to the stranger's side, and with the moon no longer reflecting off it's silver surface, it vanished into the shadows. The white limbs, the frozen expressions, they once again faded to encapsulate the human quality of movement. With these changes, the memories forgotten came rushing back to Itan, and he began to doubt once more.

Though Itan's eyes were most certainly taking in the artistry, it appeared his ears had been dead, numbed by the previous fear of the 2 figures. They reawakened now, to the question of "you coming scale's?" by the sellsword. Itan failed to comprehend the logic of the man, who sheathed his sword despite the ever-present threat of that second figure. Thus, he decided to fill that seeming loophole in the sellsword's plans. Deciding that it was in their best interests to keep a weapon at hand, he filled his fist with a wreath of flame.

"Come down, attacker. We have questions to ask."

[OnlyAhaark]

Ahaark stared at the group, Having his life at the mercy of someone else wasn't new to him, his attention turned to  the dunmer who cockily uttered  "you coming scale's?"  Ahaark threw his hood over his head and Spoke in his regular voice, "Before I go with you men, I'd like an answer to my question...Are you the striders?" Ahaark dug in his bag and pulled out four cups And a goblet and set them on the ground  He then walked over to a table on which a shopkeep displayed hand bags and smaller accessories and looked the man in the eyes, keeping him calm with his gaze, ahaark swept his hand across the table knocking all of the merchandise to the ground. With his gaze still locked on the shopkeep, ahaark slowly reached into the man's pocket and pulled a bag of coin out and placed it into his messenger bag, he then proceeded to lift the short table and carry it to the other side of the street, setting it in an unoccupied spot Ahaark went back for his cups.

Setting the cups in a circular position on the table, Ahaark put the brandy in the middle of the table and sat cross legged on the ground. He looked in the diriection of the group, who were staring at him dumbfounded "There is always time for a drink." he looked to the dunmer "You coming, your highness?"

[Sir Flint]

Flint nodded in acknowledgment to the argionian "suspicion was to be expected. your accusations, however, were not. however, the gods are forgiving and so am I, consider yourself forgiven" Flint said with a smirk. Not worth my time anyway. Flint turned to see what was happening with the argionian archer, who was now walking towards a nearby shopkeeper. As Flint watched he saw the argionian steal the mans table and coin pouch. Hmp...As much as would be expected of there kind. As the argionian moved the table to the center of the street Flint turned to the three beside and smirked "And you assumed I was the thief " 

once the argionian was done setting up he addressed Flint "You coming, your highness?" Flint then pretended to assume he was talking to the Dummer Noble of the Group before feigning relization that he was talking to him "majesty? ME? I realize that with my dashing good lucks and incredible charisma i may some across as princely but I can assure you that I am of no royal descent, though your courtesy is appreciated." Flint then gave him a smile " now then, why don't you give the nice man back his table? you robbing honest merchants in the street isn't going to do much to help curve the negative stereotype's people make of your Kind. Anyhow, i would be more inclined to drink inside rather then in the middle of the street, especially with these three gentlemen trying to avoid mercenary's out for blood." Flint then turned back the other three. "however I shall leave the final decision with you three. And of course i shall be accompanying you so that you may purchase me a drink. you owe me that much at the least."

[Wick]

They say that when you return home there is a familiar scent about it; a feeling that makes it known as home regardless of how long you’ve been away. Draseeth strode into Thorn and all he could smell was the filth of an unkempt bog-town in a state of ruin, yet clinging to the world stubbornly like the mold it reeked of. The scale armored argonian eyed the shambles of a nearby shop and wondered if he really should have listened to the Hist’s urge for him to come. He reluctantly pushed back the thought. He knew the Hist would not have called him without reason. Draseeth adjusted his bag’s shoulder strap and kept moving, deeper into his birth-city. The Hist told him to stride, so he strode.

His throat scratched and he drained the last few drops left in his water skin. Remembering a tavern not far from him, he made his way through the paths hoping the place was still in business. The want for hard drink must be in high demand in this place.

After some wandering, he found he didn’t remember the town like he used to. Things had been torn down and rebuilt and torn down again so everything was unfamiliar. Growing annoyed, he asked for directions, a painful thing to do in one’s hometown, and found he was close by if he took a shortcut through the bramble. Doing so, he came to the road and was met with an odd sight – a cloaked argonian with a drawn bow aimed at several argonians and a dunmer. Odder still, the arrowed one had a blade to his throat from a second dark skinned elf from behind. Chance is a strange thing, he thought. Draseeth kept to the cover of the plants and watched.

As things unfolded in an increasing progression of oddity, to the point where the whole lot of them were about to have something like a tea party in the middle of the road, he heard the archer mention something about ‘the striders’. Suddenly the entire situation became of far more interest. Draseeth had no idea who or what the striders were, but this seemed less and less like chance.

Well, the tension appeared to have gone, weapons sheathed, so Draseeth felt now as good a time as any to find out what in Oblivion was really going on. Perhaps these strange strangers could give him insight as to what his purpose was in coming back to this joy-less niche. He took a breath and did what the Hist was urging him to do. He strode out.

[Google]

Vistha watched as the two strangers bickered amongst each other with much amusement. This whole event was like a play preformed by jesters for a king, with decent actors and a crowd of humored nobles. Vistha hoped that he was not amidst the foolish jesters in this eventful stage, as he did not wish to partake in such a embarrassing performance. However, he felt that he was drawling ever closer from noblemen to jester and was not about to take part in this social disaster any longer then he needed too.

Quickly altering his physical and vocal expression from that of a humored spectator in exchange for a serious observer, Vistha turned his head to speak to the Guild Master. "I believe that I have exceeded my fair share of social interaction for the moment. If you would excuse me, I shall take my leave. If you require me, I can be found in the town's blacksmith. I feel that it would be best if I look into upgrading myself with some gear instead of these simple robes."

Before walking past the Guild Master fully on his way to the blacksmith's, Vistha put a quick hand on Itan's shoulder and whispered to him a silent "good luck" before departing from the group only to disappear into the nearby crowd of townsfolk.

[Geel-Kajin]

"Good luck" seemed quite apt for this situation.
As Vistha-Kai walked off, Itan whispered to him, a quiet reminder to prepare for what he'd been briefed for by the council. The assassination of a Thane, one which posed the highest possible threat to peace in their times, could not be done without the proper equipment.

Watching the scene unfold, Itan realized there was no easy decision. As cups were filled and the strangers sat, Itan's brain filled him with conflicting options and judgments. The logical side cursed these unreasonable men, who could sit down and have tea-Not only tea with someone who had previously threatened them, but also with two corpses in the inn, and the guards not far away. Surely they could have decided upon a better place to trade words? Itan, knowing that there would be no repetition of the previous artworks if the guards found them, wanted only to escape.
On the other hand, his subconscious, that reptilian instinct born of marsh descent, thought otherwise. To it's cold-blooded understanding, joining the party meant opportunities to recruit these men. They had proven themselves capable of murder, and the subconscious sensed that like itself, their inner instincts had potential for rage and bloodshed. It wanted to join this insane gathering, and it haunted Itan's thoughts with that notion as he decided.

Itan's subconscious would be disappointed. He had let it control him in the fury of battle, let it steer him to unspeakable killing. He would, however, not let it move him to such madness. There was too much at stake to be lost by an impulsive action. Already, their cause had been filled with mishaps, creations of impulse. There were 2 new graves to be dug as a result of their actions. With a gulp of breath and the quickening of the heart, he let his words rush free.

"Yes, we are the Striders. Now if you excuse me, there is blood on my hands today. The guards are coming, and unless you want to take blame for our actions, It'd be best you finished your drink." Itan's trembling voice probably delivered the urgency to them better than his garbled sentences. Hastily, he rushed to join Vistha-Kai.

As he walked off...Itan noticed a certain Argonian striding purposefully towards the teatable. They brushed shoulders as they passed through the narrow streets, and the lack of complaint from the impact,( not even the usual grumble or hiss) left him feeling suspicious and worried. It was almost like he was burning with too much determination, too silent with some infernal intelligence, Too alive, to be a local from the town. Having moved a good distance apart from each other, Itan glanced back at the man- Only to get the strange impression that he was more than a casual passerby.

[Darth Meeb]

Drayle lowered his hand as the tension of the situation seemed to diffuse.  He silently watched the exchange between Vistha and the other Dunmer, before the argonian archer who had attacked them suggested they discuss things.  He went over to a nearby shop area and started setting up some kind of picnic.  Drayle gave a small snort of amusement at this, it seems this one was quite a odd fellow.  No matter, as long as his intentions were no longer hostile Drayle didn't care how odd he acted.  

Before the 'Picnic' got into full swing Vistha stood up, saying he had to leave to better equip himself.  Drayle thought this was a pretty good idea, and he would have done the same himself if he had any significant amount of gold.  His current wealth amounted to little more than a dozen septims, his blade and shield, and the rough netch hide armor he now wore.  Itan seemed as if he didn't want to stick around either, mentioning the guards that would likely search the vicinity for the criminals that caused such a stir at the inn.  Drayle agreed with the argonians concern, it would be best if he didn't stick around here for too long.  As Itan moved away Drayle followed him.  "Ah, before you go my friend may I have a word?"  When the argonian stopped and turned to him he spoke, "I wondered if the guild, your striders, had any place a potential recruit could sleep?  I planned to take my rest at the inn, but I don't think that a wise option anymore."  He gave the argonian a friendly smile.

[OnlyAhaark]

Ahaark reluctantly rose and walked with hat had remained of the striders, Ahaark approached the dunmer man who had his life at his will about ten  minutes before...Ahaark spoke in his friendliest voice "you're quite sneaky fiend, I'm supprised you caught me, My name is Ahaark of giddeon" He smiled and offered the mer his hand to shake "tell me, who do i owe this honor to?"

[Darth Meeb]

Live RP posts

Kilc:
Itan was more than surprised at the noble's words. He had heard plenty of the corruption, the weakness of the individuals of higher class than him. In his upbringing,he had grown to accept these stereotypes, and hence similarly shunned those of high status. It was thus unexpected to hear such an offering.It was in his nature to decline, for fear of any truth in his own belief. yet...The noble had been more than a hand in combat, and there was something more to him than the air of superiority.
Itan returned a grin "I'm afraid we don't have permanent residence yet, Noble, but I do appreciate your offer. Perhaps you would like to join us regardless?"

Meeb:
Drayle sighed sligthly when the argonian man called him 'noble'. He knew his house had a reputation of hubris, especially among the people of Argonia. He gave a smile in response to Itan's words and nodded, "Of course, I have nothing pressing to do and yours seems a worthy cause. And please, call me Drayle. I may be born of house Telvanni but I am noble in name only, there is no need for such formalities."

Kilc:  
"-there is no need for such formalities" And yet to Itan, there was. There was as much a need to call him "Noble" as there was to call Argonian bandits "Guard". As much as Itan tried to forget, the long road thus travelled had not rid him of his previous experiences and judgement. He was still clouded by his previous experiences, still bitter and unyielding.
So it was with great effort that Itan swallowed his instinct and replied "So Drayle, then. I know you will try to avoid your connections to your house, but you are still of their blood. The journey ahead won't have a happy ending, that I can assure you. What will your family think, if you fight for the Pact and Guild? As much as I wish you to join,I am forced to ensure that your family, in the case of your..." Doubt overcoming him, Itan let his words drift into silence.

Meeb:
Drayle chuckled slightly at Itan's concern about his families interference. "No, there is no need to worry about that my friend. I am the third son of a man with little time for any sons at all. My house has no need of me, nor care of where I go, otherwise I would still be back in Sadrith Mora! No, you need not worry about the Telvanni, for they have long since lost me to the world." He ended the sentence with a slight tone of bitterness. Despite the fact that he went from his homeland willingly, he could not help but feel the dull pain of rejection and exile. To essentially be dishowned by ones family was not something anyone took without pain. Never the less he was determined to put asside his old alegances and build a new life for himself, one that he had made from his own hard work, not on the backs of the poor and unfortunate.

Google:  
Vistha made his way to the local blacksmith throught the seemingly ever growing crowd of strangers in the marketplace. Slowly, but steadly, Vistha moved through the crowd and eventually found the blacksmith. As it came into view, he realized that he had been here before. It did not matter, however. What mattered was that he needed equipment. As Vistha approached the blacksmith, he made note of smith sharpening a blade. Vistha almost jumped with joy to see that he was an old friend he made during his from his day's as a traveling drunk. Quickly moving behind the smith, Vistha put a hand on the smith's shoulder to get his attention. "Excuse me, but I have a good friend who lives around here. Would you know anything about him?" The smith was a little startled, but quickly regained his grip on the blade he was sharpening. Turning around to meet the stranger, the smith noticed Vistha, got up, put the sword onto a nearby bench, and suddenly hugged Vistha. "Vistha! It has been so long since I've seen you." The smith grabbed Vistha by the shouders and moved him forward a little as to look him the eyes. "You don't smell of ale. I take it you finally stopped drinking?" Vistha laughted and brushed the smith's hands off his shoulders. "No, my friend. I have only learned to disguise the smell" Vistha said with a chuckle. "On a serious note, I need some gear. Some armor and a weapon would make my day." The smith grinned and replied. "That should not be a problem. I should, however, finish this sword for the gentlemen who came before you. If you need to to rest or eat something, you can wait inside my house." Vistha waved his hand to brush off his offering. "That is not needed. Not now, at least." Suddenly an idea came to mind. "I actually have a few friends that are going to need somewhere to rest for a while. The inn has been and unsafe place, as of late, and I would thank you greatly if you would allow them in." The smith nodded in understanding. "My offer still stands for you and your friends. Now if you would, I need to finish sharpening this sword and began to work on your new wargear."

Kilc:  
Itan could only grimace at that. He pondered over how long the Noble had been away from his homeland. 2, 3 times longer than he'd been away from his own town? The lifespan of elves made it more than possible. It was up to Itan to imagine the loneliness the noble felt, no doubt his own sorrow multiplied a great many times. As much as he shunned the Great Houses, he understood that this man's confidence in joining could not be turned away. Those who had nothing to lose often fought with direction.
"Then I'm glad you'd join our cause. The Striders...we're a group of madmen I suppose. Fighting for the Pact's very survival. There's a good chance we'll die- From the discontent members of the other races, or the blades of our own brothers. Even so, you've seen the destruction such members and brothers cause, particularly under men like Thane Soldin. You know yourself it's a worthy cause..." Itan rubbed the dirt off his nose, his voice trailing off as he secretly wondered what he was doing; Recruiting others to their doom.
"We best go get Vistha. I don't think the guards will wait around any longer for us to escape." Hastening his pace, Itan made his way to the Blacksmith

Meeb:
Drayle nodded seriously, "I am aware, better to die than live a fruitless life I say. Yes let us go." Drayle followed along with Itan as they made there way through the dark streets after the other argonian. After a few minutes they arrived at some kind of market square, still bustling with activity even at this hour of the night. Drayle looked around the place, seeing mostly Argonians, a few Khajiit and some humans. He saw only a few other Dunmer, and felt the eyes of the others on him. The Dunmer man made sure to stay close to Itan, hoping his Argonian companion would disuade any unsavory encounters with potential dunmer-haters.

rpwizard (guest appearance):
Lars could hear the clang of metal and the scrapping against stone out side the blacksmiths walking towards it, lars loved the sound, made him remember the good in his home. but he was here for his own equipment, his sword had recently cracked from use. it was bound to happen with the way he has used if over the years, but being one he made himself he wanted to bring it back to glory. getting closer to the door he could hear a conversation, he walked in just as the conversation had ended seeing the blacksmith and another man. lars gave a nod to the man and then turned to the blacksmith, "would you repair my sword, I will pay any price to have it repaired" lars pulls out the sword from it's sheath carefully and lays it out in his hands, " it is an alloy of mixed metal, i'll leave it to you" lars turns to leave before saying " if you can not repair it, please destroy it"

Kilc:
Itan moved quickly through the streets, the only pause in the rythmic movement of his stride being from a hasty wiping of muck. Brushing off the black soil that had scraped off the ankles of passerbys and on to his own, he glanced up to see Vistha enter the Blacksmiths. Following closely behind, another man slipped from the gatherings on the street into the glow of the shop. Itan's eyes slit. Judging from the soft skin's appearance, he was an imperial. What was he doing, out in hostile territory? Quietly pointing this out to the Noble, they followed the 2 into the shop

Meeb:
Drayle raised an eyebrow at the sight of an Imperial among the crowd. It was unusual to see a human of the Cyrodilic province in Argonian territory in this day and age. He hoped this man wasn't looking for trouble as the Nords at the Inn had. Following Itan the two moved through the square and into the blacksmith the Imperial had entered.

Google:
Vistha leaned against the wall near the entrance of the Blacksmith’s shop, waiting for his companions to meet up with him. As expected, they entered into the shop and began to survey the surroundings. Vistha waved to them to get their attention and began to walk towards them.
“The Blacksmith has allowed us to stay here for a while and rest while he works on my gear. I think we should take advantage of this, as the inn is not a safe place right now. If you need anything, make sure to ask. And tell him you are with me. We have a history, and I’m sure any friend of mine is a friend to his.”

Kilc:
Itan's worry disappitated for a moment, and he grinned. It was amazing the friends a drunk, even a recovering one, could have. In such a backward, border town, Itan doubted the guards had the courage and audacity to search the Blacksmith's shop, when it was his blades they depended upon in battle. As big a relief as this way, the presence of the imperial still made him wary. Itan made a subtle gesture to Vistha to keep his voice down- If the stranger knew of the turmoil in the inn and heard the guards were looking for them, it could potentially ruin the safety of their hiding place.

Meeb:
Drayle nodded and smiled at Vistha, glancing around the shop at the various pieces of equiptment on display. He cast his eyes towards the Imperial before moving closer to the other two and saying in an undertone so the human could not hear, "What do you think that man is doing here?"

Google:  
"I'm not sure. I do, however, think that he is not someone we are going to need to worry about right now."

rpwizard:
when lars turned toward the door he saw two more come in, an argonian and a dark elf, they seemed to know the other argonian that was here because he called them over and started talking. looking at the group the elf almost looked out of place, but so did he, he could tell they were talking abot him because they would look at him and then wisper to the others. he sighed and spoke loudly enough for them the hear " you know if you are that curious about a person why don't you ask them for an answer" before smilling and then walking to the door and turning back to the blacksmith " I'll be back for my sword in and hour or two" and walked out.

Kilc:
Itan was about to reply when the imperial himself spoke up. At first, a certain shock claimed him- Had the man heard them talk of him? More importantly, had he heard them before that? Then his fear mounted, and his fists clenched, as if in some futile bid to control his terror. They could not afford to let the man go free anymore. Gritting his teeth, he struggled to compose himself, his body ready for decisive action. Giving a meaningful look to the others, he waited for the imperial to walk a good distance, before he followed

Meeb:
Drayle raised an eyebrow at Itan's obvious suspicion. He admited seeing an imperial here was odd, but was it really worth going after him? He supposed the way the man had left was a bit suspcious, but they shouldn't go looking for trouble. As Itan moved away Drayle put a hand on his shoulder, "Hold on, let him go. Best not go looking for trouble. I doubt the man saw us as anything more than a untrusting group of locals."

[OnlyAhaark]

Ahaark looked into the eyes of the dunmer as he poured a glass of brandy for him, "what's your story elf? Merc for hire, Theif of sorts? I myself am an archer by trade, You know they say Elves make the best archers. But by my experience that would be the kajjit." He spoke and rummaged through his bag to find 5 small viles tied together at the necks, and sealed by a cork. He tried pouring each one into the goblet he had set out for himself. But with no reward. The argonian spoke again, "Gah, thats a shame...it seems I've run dry." Ahaark set the goblet back into the bag and looked the ashy being in his red, almost glowing eyes. "what do you say we go get a...Refill...? BUT! not just any refill you see" He removed his hood revealing two glistening white fangs and motioned towards the rest of the group "Not from them no, no...Not directly from them any ways" He darkly stated To the elf as he set off towards the black smith.


Ahaark stood outside of the blacksmith watching from the window as the group eyed an imperial who had just left the shop, grinning He stepped into the blacksmith and laid his hand across the shoulder of the argonian who seemed to be the leader, causing him to jump slightly. "Itan is it? We have'nt been properly introduced yet i don't belive" he said as he shook the lizard's hand. "But while i was in the tavern, i may have heard of a little plot, that may or may not involve some sort of assassinaion of a possible Thane?" He whispered into the mer's ear and Chuckled "I suggest if you'd like that to remain between us you'd better come with me..." Leading the group into a back room of the blacksmith Ahaark advised them all to look directly ahead and to discuss nothing.

Entering the pitch black room Ahaark silently shut the door behind them and Lit a single candle in the corner of the room, It became apparent that the group had been lead into a bedroom, Possibly of the blacksmith for when he could'nt make it Home at night. Ahaark turned and clapped his hands once to gather the attention of the room. "Okay gentlemen, now to get this out of the way. I know why you are here. I know who you are after. With that being said, I want each of you to take one of these bottles" He untied and passed the five glass bottles about the group. "Your jobs are to fill these bottles with" Ahaark observed the faces of the men as he spoke "Well, With blood. How you do it is your choice. Discretly or openly. It must be fresh, And I can tell if you're holding out on me. Being as there are only four of you." he announced "Itan, you will take two. Fill them to the brim and return to me out front before daybreak. Or i will sing like a Spriggon on an open flame, No questions then? Be off" he walked past the group to the front of the building to watch the progress, sat on a nearby bench and  sipped from a bottle of Highrock wine.

[Sir Flint]

Flint turned and acknowledged the Argioinian. hmmm...one minute he's using sarcasm the next he's being polite how odd. Flint took the brandy but didn't drink it. Can't be to carful. Flint laughed when he heard the argionian say that khajiit were better archers "the day a khajiit out shoots a Bosmer is the day the sun rises in the west." Flint watched as the argionian pulled out 5 flasks and tried to pour himself a drink. However there was little liquid inside. It looked to be wine at first but upon seeing the argionians teeth he realised that he was a vampire. How....interesting. He waited for the argionian and the other to leave before following them from the side ally's.

Flint made his way through the side ally's and arrived opposite the Blacksmith. He examined the place from the dark ally across the street. as he watched he saw a imperial leaving off a sword and asking for it to be repaired or destroyed. When the imperial said he'd pay any price Flint became very interested in the sword. the three from earlier arrived with the argionian but they no longer interested Flint. what did interest him was the sword. A sword worth that much would be more then fitting for a knight. I'll wait for him to fix it before stealing it. Hopefully i won't have to wait long. Flint noticed the building across from the blacksmith was abandoned so he picked the lock to the back door and slipped inside. He watched the blacksmith from the top story window, waiting to see if he could fix the blade. Flint also kept an eye on the four talking below in the street, wondering what they were still doing outside the blacksmith. As he watched the argionian led the others inside. Now I just have to wait for the blacksmith to fix the sword.

[Geel-Kajin]

Itan watched the imperial leave the shop, and despite the reassurances of the Noble, Itan couldn't help but worry. Agitated, he subconsciously brushed dirt off his furrowed brow, as if it would clear his thoughts of all fear. It seemed as if a great deal of his time had been spent worrying lately. What if the man was an imperial spy, sent to ensure the pact's downfall? What if he was here to collect information on the Pact's defenses? A whole barrage of questions and doubts filled his thoughts, and he quickly shrugged off the hand of the dark elf.

He had not gotten this far by just letting things slide, just by assuming the best of a situation. Perhaps he was overly cautious, a man on the brink of paranoia. But the cold, instinctual side of him, did not trust any situation to favor them. It was this pessimist viewpoint that allowed him- a leader of a movement hated by so many, to have survived thus far. By assuming the worst of people and the most horrid of scenarios, he could prevent disappointment, and hence prevent a poor outcome.

"Itan is it? We haven't been properly introduced yet i don't believe"

Itan jumped a good inch at the words, head jerking around in shock. It was the hooded attacker from the rooftops. He felt the other take his hand in a strong handshake, causing him to look down in surprise. Itan's eyes locked upon the clawed hands of the other, before it trailed up the the scaly skin of his arm in quiet observation. Up close, Itan noticed a certain... oddity in his features. His skin was almost marble, a bare shade darker than it had been under the moon's pale light. It unnerved Itan, and his subconscious screamed a silent warning. Something about this man was unnatural.

"The attacker. As much as I'd like for us to be introduced, there are things I must do." Itan turned his head slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of the Imperial. However, the man had vanished, hidden from view by the night's black wings.

The man seemed to ignore his words and Itan groaned inwardly, carrying on with what he expected to be more gibberish and "tea party jokes". The hooded argonian's next words, however, made the fins on his head stand up in alarm.

"But while i was in the tavern, i may have heard of a little plot, that may or may not involve some sort of assassinaion of a possible Thane?"
Damn it- How did he overhear my reminder to Vistha-Kai!? It was impossible. No human being could have heard their whispers. Itan's eyes turned to slits, regarding the man with suspicion and hate.

"I suggest if you'd like that to remain between us you'd better come with me..." When the hooded argonian leaned in to whisper in Itan's ears, he saw it- The amber eyes, the pointed teeth. At once, everything made sense. No human being could have overheard the whispers, but a vampire on the other hand, had all it's 5 senses amplified. It was also the sort of creature,Itan thought bitterly,to abuse that ability for it's own gain

It was at this point Itan knew that the man could not be allowed to live. He had proven, time and time again to be a cunning, depraved monster, preying upon any opportunity possible. For the sake of both Thorn and the Guild, he had to be put down; a blade through the heart or his body purged by fire. Now it was merely a matter of how to go about with this task...

Having no other choice but to listen to the 'suggestion', Itan followed the Argonian back into the Blacksmiths, right to the rear end of the shop. Opening a mold encrusted door, he led them into a gloomy room, covered by mud and reeds. A single flame lit the room, flickering gently as it fed upon slow-burning twigs and twice burnt branches. It was contained within a Argonian stone bowl, crude and oddly shaped; The sort which formed naturally when a stone was placed under a waterfall. Wisps of foul smoke trailed from the bowl, clouding the vampire's features from view by the others.

"Okay gentlemen, now to get this out of the way. I know why you are here. I know who you are after. With that being said, I want each of you to take one of these bottles" Itan was surprised, therefore, when two of the bottles were pressed into the palm of his hand.

"Your jobs are to fill these bottles with...Well, With blood. How you do it is your choice. Discretly or openly. It must be fresh, And I can tell if you're holding out on me. Being as there are only four of you...Itan will take two" Itan felt his stomach lurch with disgust, unable to comprehend what sort of monster would go so far with his blackmail. The sort of monster who will never listen to reason. There is only one way to end this crazy deal.

Knowing that they were still being observed by the monster, the group of them walked out of the blacksmith's in silence. Itan was angry beyond measure; He wanted simply to turn around, and burn the vampire in an inferno of righteous fire. He wanted to speak to the the Noble and Vistha-Kai, and fix the man's death. But since the vampire knew of the Guild's plan through his own carelessness, Itan was too ashamed and frustrated to talk to them at all. It was his fault that they were in this predicament, and he would solve it on his own- Regardless of what it took.

When they were a distance from the Blacksmiths, Itan turned to the Noble and said "I'm sure you're feeling enraged at the moment, but please wait; Let me sort things out. The man knows of some important information, of which if let slipped, could easily mean the end for the mission. Beware the guards patrolling the town and act like you're doing as told- The only thing I can promise you is I won't let him get away with this."

Having said so, Itan slipped the two bottles into his bag and walked hastily off into the night.