Fandom The Clairvoyants

[Wylrin]

They were stationed at Dragon Bridge.

Well, technically they weren't stationed there. Such would imply that they were to hold that position for a time. No, this was more of a... well, hardly a vacation, as that would insinuate they weren't working, but any time they managed to stop by an actual settlement and sleep in real beds might as well have constituted as a vacation to these men.

They had rested at the Four Shields Tavern last night. Now, they were in the process of packing up their sparse belongings and eating a quick meal. Well, that's what they were "officially" doing. In reality, Songbird was playing a tune on his flute to what few patrons attended the inn. Hawkeye was trying to dissuade Bear from drinking excessive amounts of mead this early in the morning. And the--

"Commander."

...Yeah, he should have expected that.

Turning to face the elf formally, pretending as if he hadn't been watching his every move already, the commander asked curtly, "What are your grievances?"

With a scowl, the mer replied, "Too many to relay in a timely manner. Speaking of time, we haven't excessive amounts of it. It is imperative that we keep moving."

"The war isn't going anywhere."

The Justiciar made a face. You think this is a war? Your little pissing contest between the Empire and a few dissidents? Oh, little human. He did not say as such, though there was a twinge of amusement in his tone when he said, "Certainly not, with this sort of action against it." Not that he terribly minded. The continuance of the civil war kept both Skyrim and the Empire occupied. All the more time for the Aldmeri Dominion to ready itself for its second assault on the Empire.

"You're welcome to file your complaint."

"I have already informed your superiors and mine of your incompetence."

The commander's eyes narrowed. In the background, he could hear that Bear and Hawkeye had quieted their discussion, no doubt honing in on an entirely different conversation. It may have been his imagination, but he could have sworn Songbird was playing more loudly now, as if trying to drown out an unpleasant sound. He wasn't sure whether he should glare at him or bless his heart.

Any glare he might have been tempted to give Songbird was instead directed at the Thalmor agent. "You can write to your higher-ups all you want. I prefer to let my legionnaires' actions speak for themselves."

Giving the commander a bored look, he said, "How little their actions speak."

"Don't you have something better to do? Like, I don't know, snatch a civilian from their home in the middle of the night?"

"That civilian, as you call her, was a criminal. If the Empire won't enforce the terms of the White-Gold Concordat, then the Thalmor will."

"And yet here you are, wasting time instead of seeing to your duty," said the commander with spread hands.

There was a few moments of silence on the elf's part, then a quietly issued, "Very well. The people of Dragon Bridge could use a reminder of their true allegiance." Turning on his heel to walk towards the door to the outside world, he said more loudly, "We leave before noon," before taking his leave.

 

[DovahBeat]

FennorianMentions: Hel Wylrin
Fennorian had entered Dragonbridge with his Nord companion late in the night before, and had spent the rest of it in the inn. The next morning he awoke to loud flute playing and what sounded like an argument between military officials. Fenn preferred to stay out of politics, but he was keenly aware of how Altmer were not welcomed in Skyrim any longer. Not since Skyrim was last divided between east and west. Well, even then they weren't very welcome, but it was better than now. He sighed, stepping out of his inn room he shared with Adis and glanced over the fight. This had nothing to do with what he was here for, he didn't have to get involved. He took a sip from his flask, easily concealing the evidence of it being blood after many years of practice, and entered the main lodging area to buy some ingredients he could use in alchemy from the innkeeper. It was amazing that even the most common of ingredients used in cooking could be used as a reagent in alchemy. He hoped it would quiet down soon, and that the other Altmer didn't try anything... Typical of Altmer, really.

 

[Effloresce]

Markarth’s claustrophobic bustle made the Huntress sick. She missed the cheerful presence of Whiterun’s market, the beating of Eorlund’s hammer upon the twinkling skyforge, the rascal children zipping about the beautiful streets with happiness and excitement. This "City" was more a glorified fortress, wreathed in rock and stone. High walls twisted into threatening faces, uncaring for the denizens of its prison. Aela hated the place. It was a bleak den of trifle, corruption, and misery and the streets were plagued by the stench of death and the silver tint of sweat and blood. A chipping symphony echoed throughout, coming from the great quarry manned by glorified prison slaves.

The burlap sack slung over her shoulder painted the bricked ground she travelled with a slow dripping crimson.

“Here.” She stopped abruptly before a towering man rippling with muscle, throwing the stained bag to her mark.

The large man looked to the bag slowly, bending his knees and scooping down to open it with nary a wince for the image within. “That’s the 15th head in two days.” His voice, rather than admiration, was steeped in accusation.

“Your job is to pay me, Argis. Not question me.” She folded her arms with an unimpressed glare. "Don't they call you the Bulwark? Show some spine. The Forsworn are your enemy."

The Housecarl grimaced, the twinkle of hesitance in his eye speaking of more than the Forsworn. "I have no love for the Reach savages, Huntress. Trust me on that. I've knocked more heads than this in one night..." He paused, stretching out his arms before hefting the bag behind him. “But taking heads like this is the work of some honourless cutthroat…” He craned his neck to study Aela, “The Companions are sworn to protect Skyrim and all its people.” His eyes searched hers for answer, but an impassive stone face gave none. “The Reach included.” He clasped a coin pouch into her hand—business was concluded.

“I’m not a Companion.” She whirled on her feet like a cyclone, leaving Argis with his doubts and suspicions.

Aela cared little for her honour. It came second to the more complex truth.

The Huntress had nothing against the Forsworn, respected them, even. But out here, running amidst the wilds with four paws beating off the muddy tracks, they were her equal. Hunters and warriors who lived off the land and venerated their ancient rites. The Reach was a hunting ground away from the prying eyes of society.

It was hardly her fault none possessed the strength to survive. It was the way of the hunt.

After minutes of inane travel through the rough uninspired architecture of the glorified prison-City, Aela sighed as she stepped through into an even more dreary inn. A place of relaxation somehow morphed into an impressive square cage. Unsurprising, given the Silver-Bloods owned the place—as reflected by the name, The Silver-Blood Inn.

“Pour me the strongest you have.” She huffed, drawing a finger up as the man made to respond; “And not a word if you want my business. I’m here to drink. Not talk.” The Innkeeper looked nervously off to his wife at the side, who could only offer him a weak shrug in response.

"THERE'S BEEN AN ATTACK!" A voice rattled the Inn's calm, Aela's eyes rolled in her skull. Was she forever to go without peace?

"Mi' Lady, please--"

"--Go tell a guard, fool." She bit back through clenched teeth.

"Please, Mi' Lady, the guards seldom leave the City to aid us common folk, but you're a Companion--" Aela's heart tightened at the words, "--You can help us! They say you hunt Forsworn for sport..." His voice became more irate "Please!"

Aela's wince belied her crumbling resolve. Damned oaths. Even free of the Circle she felt compelled to help when called upon by the people. Would Kodlak praise her for it? Or would he scold her for playing Companion when banished from the Order?

______________________

The grassy plains near the Dragon's Bride heralded all the signs of Forsworn activity, but Aela had since travelled beyond Markarth's borders--out here, there was no protection or legal jurisdiction. No wonder the peasant had sought her out. The road past "Bruca's Leap Redoubt" he said. A fortified Forsworn encampment that towered over the plains nearby.

Or so she'd first thought.

The supposed tales of a caravan butchery and the fleeing of several merchants to a nearby ruin were uncoiling to be a fabrication. She was at the sight of the attack. But there was no caravan, no bloodshed, even the ground was free of the beaten path. Not a Forsworn to be seen.

Her nose wrinkled at the familiar sensation of a hunt in progress. She'd been lured into a trap. Baited by the innocent. The Silver Hand? Bounty Hunters? Vigilants of Stendarr? Perhaps, even... no. The Companions wouldn't hunt her.

Her hands tightened on the string of her bow, "Step out from the shadows, hunter." She called to the surrounding emptiness, "If you meant to slay me silently you'd have tried it already."
Whisker

 

[Whisker]

Blood and Silver: Part 1

Decimus Axillus

Location: Bruca's Leap Redoubt Date: Morndas, 5:06 PM, 5th of Frostfall, 4E 202 Status: In Hunt


Quests:
Talk to Delrik of the Silver Hand
Investigate Suspicious Deaths in the Reach
Complete the Hunt
Talk to Delrik upon Quest Completion

​

“Step out from the shadows, hunter. If you meant to slay me silently you'd have tried it already."

From his refuge behind the rocky outcrop overhead, Decimus grimaced. He had known when baiting the trap that it would not take his quarry long to notice aught amiss. An absence of bodies, the lack of songbirds in the air, the faint but noticeable stench of blood in the wind flowing gently from the north-east.

In normal circumstances, he might have thought to do the deed properly. “Borrow” a wagon and light it aflame, slay a deer and drop blood upon the grass. But there had been no time and the risk of an unfriendly patrol swooping down at any time had placed the thought entirely from his mind.

Instead, he reached for one of the bolts he had splayed out in the grass. He fit it into his position, cranked the shaft, then after a moment’s pause rose up from behind his shelter – a shadow of dusky leathers and steel grey helm.

“Not so loud, dog,” Decimus rasped from behind the slotted holes of his helm. “One word out of place and these hills will be crawling from here to Markarth with Forsworn, and word has it that they are no fans of yours.”

It was only half a lie. Further down the road lay the decrepit shape of Bruca's Redoubt. Like most Forsworn holds, it was decently formidable in appearance. A double layer of palisade stakes dotted the outside of the encampment, though its timbers were weathered from use. A "crows nest" lookout oversaw the whole thing, but a few nights of scouting told Decimus that the threat from the Redoubt came not from above but from a cave in the central part of the camp.

As long as he stayed at range and kept quiet, the Forsworn within had scarce noticed his presence. Perhaps, it was why, even now, they had felt so comfortable in leaving their fortress to raid in the direction of Dragon's Bridge. Of course, his prey was not aware of this and that was all that mattered for the time being.


Sorry, trying to get my homework done. Also gave Dragon's Bridge some pesky Forsworn if yall want that. /shrug

Effloresce

 

[Hel]

Ádís ​

How long had it been since I was last here?

Ádís woke up nearly as tired as she had been when she fell asleep. She hadn't slept particularly well, but she never did when they traveled. Glancing towards her traveling companion, she noted he was still asleep. It seemed a shame to wake him now, seeing how late they got in, but she knew that her chances of joining him in slumber were slim to none. Instead, she carefully got out of bed, smoothing the blanket as gently as she could. She quietly dressed for the day and pulled a cloak over her travel leathers, both to keep back the bitter wind of Western Skyrim and to hide herself from curious gazes.

After getting ready, she slipped from the inn room that she and Fennorian shared. She had spent the last few weeks traveling, but still, a walk in the brisk morning air sounded nice. As she left the inn, her eyes turned northeast, to Solitude. The years had changed it greatly, but it was still Solitude. Her mind wandered off to times that she thought were all but forgotten before she shook her head to clear them. Her time as anyone important to this land had long passed, and she suspected it would never truly feel like home again.

Ádís spent the next couple of hours walking the road near Dragonbridge. By the time she returned, the sun had been up long enough to take the bite out of the air. She went up to her room in Four Shields Tavern, only to realize that Fenn must have already left. She went back downstairs to the dining room and quickly found the man she was traveling with speaking to the innkeeper. She had little doubt as to the content of their conversation. She couldn't help but notice some other tension lingering in the room as well, though she had missed the context of why.

"Good morning, how fares your search?" Ádís asked Fennorian in a hushed voice as she approached him. The trace of a smile played on her lips as she pulled her hood back a touch.

 

[DovahBeat]

FennorianMentions: Wylrin Hel
"Ah, Adis, there you are. I was beginning to worry." Fenn turned his attention to the Nord, his companion. He then placed a few gold Septims on the counter and carefully put the herbs he would later use as reagents into his alchemist's satchel. "It went well, nothing special or out of the ordinary, of course, but that's to be expected from an inn. I'll have to go to an alchemist's shop for anything specific or more advanced."
He then turned, about to take Adis and himself out and be on their way to Solitude before reaching Castle Volkihar, but he stopped. The other Altmer was most likely outside of the tavern, and would probably stop them once he realized his traveling companion (and partner) is a Nord, a rather odd pair that by all logic should not work, especially considering the current state Skyrim was in.
On the other hand, if they stayed inside, Fennorian was almost sure that Commander would be watching him as he did the Thalmor Justiciar. That wouldn't be good either, couldn't let it slip that they were vampires, now could they?
"Say, Adis, how do you feel? It's been quite some time since we've last been here. A lot has changed. I hope it's bringing up more fond memories than unpleasant ones." He tried to make conversation, partially because he genuinely wanted to know and partially to make them less conspicuous. Although, the attempted resurrection of the Gray Host was definitely far from pleasant, especially going down into the Blackreach Caverns... He silently hoped he wouldn't have to return there this trip, or ever, really. Too much happened to him down there.
He found his mind dwelling on the subject and quickly brought his focus back to the present, hoping that the haunting memories didn't show on his face.

 

[Effloresce]

Aela smiled mirthlessly, the carved wooden bow was weightless in her hands. "The Forsworn are as likely to butcher you as they are me, Dawnguard." She hit back with a tint of venom, strands of red hair fluttered in the wind shielding the vampire hunter from her glare. "But only one of us has the necessary gifts to escape." Her coy tone betrayed a vague meaning; no doubt the hunter knew of Hercine's blessing. His derogatory introduction and presence here at all were proof enough of that. Still, there was no need to state the known outright.

In truth, she was surprised to find a member of the infamous Dawnguard being behind her entrapment. They were hardly known as werewolf hunters, had her prowling of the Reach stirred the hornet's nest so much? It was unlikely. The Forsworn were dear to none but their twisted Gods. She expected the plate-clad hunter was operating under the directives of a higher order.

Aela lowered herself on crouched knees, her muscles flexed and coiled about her bones like a serpent wrapping about a rock. Sea grey eyes took on a sharp mystical edge, boring into her newfound rival. His hand threatened retribution with a steel crossbow undoubtedly nocked with silver bolts. To the untrained arrogance of most her crouched position might seem like concession or diffusion. But she was swift and agile, the moment that bolt graced the air she meant to roll aside and return the favour. Her bow could be nocked as she rolled.

She found some small amusement in the man's inaction, was it her reputation as a companion that stayed his hand? Perhaps he followed a code of honour and slew his targets by staring them in the eyes, watching as their fleeting life was extinguished beneath the candles of the hunt. It was a bit dull to the Huntress; too rigid, too much room for failure. It reminded her of Kodlak and Farkas, too idealistic for their own good.

The tension was deafening.

Aela's nerves were steady, but her patience was waning; "Do you mean to drag this out into a contest of resolve?" The twinkling sun caught her misty eyes as she spoke, her grey orbs appearing almost as if full moons within her skull.

Whisker

 

[Wylrin]

Fennorian was right about one thing: he was definitely being watched. Though not by the commander, who couldn't care less about two civilians interacting so long as they weren't breaking any laws. No, the culprit behind the people-watching was Hawkeye, unsurprisingly. He had learned long ago that it was a fatal error to overlook anyone, regardless of how innocent they appeared. So his gaze was indeed trained on the elf, though he had the decency to be subtle about it.

Bear, on the other hand, was not nearly as tactful.

He'd been outright staring at the Altmer the moment he stepped out of his room, as if trying to grasp the concept of an elf who wasn't dressed in the typical garb of a Thalmor agent. If he'd been staring before, his eyes practically bulged out of his skull as the elf was approached by someone who was very much NOT an elf. Man and mer mingling, he could understand. He'd been stuck with a Thalmor agent trailing him and his fellows for far too long. But being pleasant about it? Acting as though the interaction WASN'T torturous? This he had to see.

And get involved in, apparently.

Hawkeye could tell he was going to interfere with their conversation. As if the way the hulking man took a step forward wasn't an obvious indication. A hand on his arm advised him to let it be, but Bear shook it off in favor of approaching the two.

"No accounting for taste, eh?" he addressed not the Altmer, but the Nord woman. Behind him, Hawkeye was effectively hiding his face in an open hand. To his horror, his companion wasn't finished. Turning to Fennorian now, he asked, more than a hint of accusation in his tone, "What brings you to Skyrim?"

DovahBeat

 

[Hel]

Ádís​

The Nord listened as Fenn spoke about what he had purchased from the innkeeper with interest, She said little more than confirmation before noticing Fenn's discomfort. She had a guess as to what it was that caused it, Skyrim had only become less welcoming over time, it seemed to her. It wasn't a very welcoming place, to begin with.

"Say, Adis, how do you feel? It's been quite some time since we've last been here. A lot has changed. I hope it's bringing up more fond memories than unpleasant ones." Fennorian asked her.

"Nostalgic mostly," Ádís answered. "Things have changed so much, and yet.-"

She would have said more, but she noticed a tall, musclebound Nord making his way towards the pair. He looked like he wanted a fight, but then many of her countrymen had that look to them. Then he spoke, and she realized exactly what his problem was. Before she could respond, though, he addressed her companion. She didn't like his tone, but she bit her tongue to let Fennorian respond for himself.

Mentions: DovahBeat Wylrin

 

[DovahBeat]

FennorianMentions: Hel Wylrin
Fennorian almost let out a sigh at being borderline harrassed. But he withheld the attitude for now. He looked down at the hulking Nord, yes, looked down. Fenn was two whole inches taller than this man, just with a much different body type, thanks to Altmer Noble genetics.
"It's rude to interrupt a conversation, you know. As for what brings us to Skyrim, business on behalf of House Ravenwatch of Rivenspire. Believe it or not, neither of us are from Skyrim." Well, Adis technically was born here, but neither of them had lived nor been here for a thousand years.
"I doubt you've heard of us, considering Nords these days tend to be sheltered at best, but we're from High Rock, not from the Aldmeri Dominion, and we have very important business to conduct in Solitude. I would appreciate it if you left us to it. I assure you, we will stay out of your way."

 

[Wylrin]

There was a brief period of silence, then, of all things, Bear started to laugh. It was not a mocking or disbelieving laughter, however, but instead a wholesome, merry sort of guffawing.

"Aye, indeed!" he said. Nudging the elf playfully, he continued, "And don't let those Stormcloaks tell you otherwise!"

Shaking his head, though he was grinning as well, Songbird explained, "Bear likes toughening people up. Seems you don't need it, though."

"Should be more careful about who you try that with," Hawkeye murmured.

"Aw come on, Hawk. I'm just playing around." Turning back to the Altmer, he declared, "I like you, friend. And you!" he said to Ádís. "Skyrim needs more people who won't tear each other apart on the basis of race."

"Best to leave that sort of discrimination to the Thalmor," the commander noted.

"Yeah, uh, sorry about, well, him," said Bear, nodding towards the door where the agent had departed. "Probably woke you with his babble."

"Could wake the dead," the scout muttered.

DovahBeat Hel

 

[graytful]

Alas, Ellowin finally made her way to the far side of the cliff face that pushed against the river bank and her destination was upon her. She could smell Karthwasten before she saw it. The smell the earth exploited, deep cuts in her skin and the smoky metallic scent of smelted ore stolen from the soil to be bent to a mortal purpose- likely violence or the further exploitation of the land for exuberant and unnecessary architecture. Ellowin could only wish the fruits of this perversion of the earth led to bloodshed which would return to the soil and nurture fertility in the ground. Harmony, as it were. But her philosophy hardly mattered now. Ellowin walked cautiously up from the river bank on a small, steep path between a break in the rocky hillside and found herself on the outskirt of the village. She told her contact not to reveal their meeting place aloud and that she would know where to find him. She took a deep, focusing breath, and suddenly her eyes were alight with a shining guide to her desired location. The path took her around the back edge of the holding and she followed it up to a mined in section of the hillside which lead to a heavily picked iron vein. Her contact was already waiting, sitting on a rock, looking as if he hadn't moved since they spoke the evening before. Her silent approach hadn't garnered his attention, his face was creased in deep thought.

"Enmon." Ellowin spoke bluntly. His eyes lifted to gaze upon her cloaked form and she saw surprise there, like he hadn't actually expected this to go according to plan. She hardly blamed him. To steal from the temple of Dibella in the heart of one of the largest cities in Skyrim was easy feat, but Ellowin was far from her days as a novice. Before he could speak Ellowin reached into her satchel and pulled out a small but hefty idol. "The Statute of Dibella, and a note left in its place explaining the ransom for your daughter."

She held the carved figure out to him and uncertainty filled his eyes as he rose to retrieve the artifact. The dirt-covered miner took the statue from her and appeared to feel not just the weight of the object but of the deed. He looked to her with a haunted expression.

"Am I a fool? They will kill me for this rather than return my precious daughter... it has been over a year..." He clearly sought solace or answers. But neither were part of her job. His plan was his own, Ellowin was merely a vehicle for its consequences. The elf stayed silent, her golden eyes gazing at him with forceful expectation. There was a pause as the man realized how vulnerable he was behaving, cleared his throat, and composed himself. "Right, advice wasn't part of the deal. Very well, thank you for taking this risk for my family. And I, too, am a man of my word."

Enmon retrieved a rectangular parcel from behind the rock he had been sitting on and returned it to the wood elf. She swiftly deposited the package into her bag and stepped back. The two nodded at one another, recognizing that their contract was fulfilled, and Ellowin left the man to his worries. It was time for her to cross the bridge to the northeast and return to the cave she had been sleeping in, once known as Liar's Retreat but long since abandoned. She had business to attend to with the object now in her possession.

 

[Verena]

Ah, the great city of Solitude, the beautiful capital of Skyrim. Ever since Verena first stepped foot through its gates a few years back, she truly couldn’t get enough of the place. Contrary to all of the other towns, Solitude possessed a complex and revolutionary system of sewers, which practically eliminated the stench the people of other larger settlements were practically used to at this point. Instead, it pampered its visitors’ senses with mouth-watering aromas from the Winking Skeever inn, soothing songs from the Bards College and stunning stained-glass murals.

Thus, Verena wasn’t in any hurry to reach the Blue Palace in search of work. Although innkeepers oftentimes offered plenty of information, acquiring it not only required a certain investment on her part but was also as reliable as a rumour heard from a drunken oaf stumbling home. Nowadays, she mainly got her jobs from stewards, court wizards and notice boards. In some rare cases, the jobs found her. After all, she did look the part of a mercenary and a warrior who’d seen her fair share of battles. (Her armour replicates roughly the East Skyrim Scout Outfit from ESO). An etched buckler was suspended from her belt, along with a steel sabre similar to a cutlass and a parrying dagger.

Verena stopped to listen to a bard’s lute but was quickly back on track upon hearing her impatient companion’s barely audible grumbling, this time with a quickened pace. Upon entering the Blue Palace, they both could hear a conversation in the court already in progress.

“I’m telling you, unnatural magics are coming from that cave! There are strange noises and lights! We need someone to investigate!”, cried a near-hysterical citizen and Verena could already sense that this had piqued Tal’eths interest somewhat. They exchanged glances and awaited the jarl’s final word on the matter, standing at the base of the curved staircase. However, it was her steward Falk who sent the man on his way instead, assuring him that the matter would be dealt with.

The moment the worried citizen was out the door, the two approached the steward. “Do you have business with the court?”, Falk inquired in the professional way most royal advisors did.

“Not the court per se but it sure did sound like you needed someone to investigate that cave.”

“Wolfskull Cave? I was planning to let that superstitious nonsense go. With the war going on, I don’t think it’s worth our effort.” Tal’eth crossed her arms, pursed her lips and glared at Verena menacingly. She had barely agreed on stopping in Solitude in the first place. The merc would probably have to endure the young sorcerer's complaints about hours on end if this turned to be a flop. Perhaps the steward sensed the growing tension and thus continued. “Tell you what, if you want to clear out that cave, I’ll make sure you’re repaid for your hard work. Give me your map so I can mark the location, it’s just off Dragon Bridge.”

***

“Apparently haunted cave, once used for necromantic rituals by some Potema. Now doesn’t that sound interesting?” Verena stated, pausing to admire the view from so high up. They were close enough to Dragon Bridge at this point that they could see chimney smoke and hear the waterfall by the mill.

“Hopefully they left something behind or this would be a huge waste of time.”

“Let’s check the inn for a spell. Might learn something more there.”

Upon entering the Four Shields Tavern, the two witnessed the small exchange between two very different parties. While the Imperial soldiers weren’t anything unusual for Haafingar, the other wasn’t a common sight at all these days. Although Tal’eth as a Breton had elven ancestry, she was by no means considered as Mer by the Nords. And while she was a mage, people rarely risked getting on her bad side. Dunmer on the other hand were oftentimes fair game.

Verena approached the innkeeper and ordered some hot food. While waiting for their order, she turned to the unusual pair. “It’s not every day you see a pair such as yourself. Glad the locals weren’t giving you any real trouble.”

 

[Whisker]

Decimus Axillus

Location: Bruca's Leap Redoubt Date: Morndas, 5:06 PM, 5th of Frostfall, 4E 202 Status: In Hunt


Quests:
Talk to Delrik of the Silver Hand
Investigate Suspicious Deaths in the Reach
Complete the Hunt
Talk to Delrik upon Quest Completion

​

"Do you mean to drag this out into a contest of resolve?"

Decimus ignored her taunt, keeping his crossbow steady in its sights. Beneath the slitted visor of his helm, blue eyes regarded her keenly, studying the curious stance she had adopted under the threat of being skewered from one of his bolts. Instead of darting for the nearest source of cover, she remained in the open, her body coiled like a serpent preparing for strike. As his finger inched every closer to the trigger mechanism of his bow, he found himself more and more ill at ease. Was this supposed to be some trick? Was she testing him?

Now, he hadn't been a hunter long at this point. It had taken him over a year to pass the training to Isran's satisfaction. And another three months to make his first kill. But if there was anything he possessed more than the others, it was a brain — not that he had much competition among the usual lot that wandered into the fort. He learned, and he learned fast. He had learned that the monsters were arrogant and proud. They lurked in human shape, mingling with the crowd. They were neighbors, friends, family, lovers even . . . but behind the mask, they regarded everyone beneath them for fools. And like all schemers, the mask tended to fall more and more away when the pieces were revealed.

When he took this job, he thought no differently of Aela the Huntress. Sure, he had known who she was — at least by reputation. Decimus had not been born in Skyrim, but every meadhall he had stepped in from Windhelm to Solitude had toasted them and their glory. "Hail Kodlak the Harbinger! Hail the Companions! Join the Circle and make something of yourself." He almost laughed when Delrik of the Silver Hand had confided the truth over a pint. Was anything that glittered really gold anymore?

Every day since, he had devoted his life to the hunt. He had followed her, tracked her, loitered but a few steps behind this "hero" as the time marched closer to this day. Now that it arrived, he felt almost disappointed. Discomfited, even. Was the beast to die without showing him her best?

He exhaled slowly through his helm and closed his eyes. Only for a split second. Then he opened them again, a flash of steely resolve as the tension snapped in a blur of motion. His arm twisted, his finger snapping down the trigger as he fired in the direction he expected her to leap, though the Imperial Hunter did not stop to check if he had scored his mark. Instead, he leapt, his body flinging sideward in the direction of the boulder to his right.

Five bolts left. It was time to make them count.

Effloresce

Let's go ham.

 

[Hel]

ÁdísMentions: DovahBeat Wylrin Verena

Ádís had kept a straight face through Fennorian's response and posturing, though it was admittedly hard. While she knew that Fenn could handle himself in a fight the sight of him sizing up to this Nord- Bear, it seemed he was called- was amusing nevertheless. When Bear burst into laughter, however, Ádís could not maintain her icy facade. She smiled at the interaction, amused by Bear and his companions. They bantered among themselves a moment before turning back to Ádís and Fenn.

"Well, he certainly has the look of a, uh, leading sort. The sort who'd like to hear the sound of his own voice, perhaps." She mused. Her tone was light, and she hoped they weren't the sort to take her comment the wrong way. After a moment, another Nord entered the inn- it seemed that the Four Sheilds was quite the popular place this morning. When she commented, Adis responded with a nod of recognition.

"So, what important mission brings the lot of you out to Dragonbridge, if I may ask?" Ádís inquired, as she directed her attention back to the legionnaires. "It seems a small outpost to post so many soldiers, an important outpost to be sure, but still..."

 

[DovahBeat]

FennorianMentions: Hel Wylrin Verena
Fenn smiled softly, careful to keep his fangs hidden. "Yes, I've learned over the years that it's best if you don't act superior to everyone else. I feel the rest of my kin could use to learn that as well."
As another Nord entered the tavern and addressed him, Fenn was starting to get a little overwhelmed. This was getting to be more people than he was comfortable with, but he tried not to let his nerves show. It would do no good to act suspicious now.
"Ah, yes. We haven't faced much trouble, yet. For that I'm grateful." He responded, before turning his attention back towards Adis, interested in hearing what legionnaires had to say.

 

[Wylrin]

Her comment wouldn't be taken the wrong way, if the jolly laughter that followed was any indication. "Aye, and don't get me started about the stick up his arse."

That got a snort out of the commander, and even Hawkeye possessed the slightest hint of a smile. Songbird, on the other hand, had a small, worried frown on his face. "You know I don't oppose to you fellows making merry," he said. "But I do oppose to making merry at the detriment of another."

"Yeah, that's Nanny for ya. Always backing up the Thalmor," Bear said, shaking his head and tsking as if it were a terrible shame.

"Songbird backs everyone up," Hawkeye pointed out matter-of-factly.

"Even the ones who don't deserve it," said the hulking Nord.

The bard regarded his companion with a saddened expression, but didn't say anything. The commander took this break in the conversation as an opportunity to answer Ádís. "The important mission of sleeping in a warm bed for once," he told her with a smirk. His expression becoming solemn once again, he said, "We're headed back to Solitude, actually. Dragon Bridge was a convenient place to stop for the night and replenish our supplies."

"So why're we headed back to the city, again?" asked Bear.

Rolling his eyes as if they'd already been over this, the commander told him, "I told you, we're getting new orders."

"Can't one of our couriers deliver our next orders?"

Cassius gave him a stern look.

"I'm just sayin'!" he said with raised hands. "Seems like a waste of time to head all the way back to Solitude when a letter could do just as well."

Hawkeye sought Bear's attention with a snap of his fingers. Once he had it, he made a gesture with his hand that didn't seem to have any particular meaning, but it apparently got his message across. Bear became very solemn, an almost grave expression appearing on his face for a few moments before he seemed to remember they weren't alone.

Turning back to the Altmer and his companion, he seemed to recall something, which brought back some of his merriment as he said, "Say, you were headed to Solitude too, eh? Perhaps you'd like to come with us. Strength in numbers and all o' that."

DovahBeat Hel

 

[DovahBeat]

FennorianMentions: Hel Wylrin
Fennorian was about to automatically decline the offer, when he realized they really had no logical reason not to. Not one that wouldn't out them as vampires. His discomfort from being around a large sum of people because he feared the temptation would not be easily excused as something more mundane. He glanced at Adis, hoping she came to the same conclusion.
"... I... suppose we could. If you don't mind us tagging along, of course." He finally answered.

 

[Effloresce]

The misty silence that blanketed the Reach's plains was deafening. So deafening that the piercing winds now rent asunder by a soaring bolt was a high-pitched whistle that burrowed into Aela's skull like the bell's of Whiterun. Time itself seemed to distort, her eyes stretching through the veil of reality as she stared death in the face. He hadn't fired at her, he'd meant to predict her evasion. A smart move born out of caution and greater skill than they first surmised. Then her body glided across the ground in a dexterous roll, the bolt scattering left as she moved right, her arrow finding purchase nocked upon her bow before she'd finished moving. Retribution was immediate: her arrow parted the skies and the steel-tip that promised death met empty air as the Dawnguard huntsman darted behind a rock for cover. Aela frowned, a contrasting twitch in her lips to the pure elation in those possessive moon-like orbs.

This wasn't going to be an exchange.

More arrows charged from her figure, ceaseless and precise, striking the outermost edges of the boulder or barely soaring by. Her focused gaze honed in on the shadowed silhouette of a prey in wait, the boulder's other side was struck with the same ferocity. If he meant to return fire, doom was his prize. Should he sit and idle, then he'd fall as soon as she cleared the rock's side, marching forward as she was.

She was a creature wreathed in Hircine's will. The wrath of the wilds came with her.

"You should've stayed focused on vampires!" Aela taunted, without venom but a voice fuelled by the fires of conflict.

She had no distaste for the Dawnguard. She didn't much care for hating vampires, either, but more often than not Skyrim's denizens of the night found greater use in terrorizing its people, unsurprising considering their sustenance. The Dawnguard were a necessary counter-measure. A shame, then, that this one meant to find an early grave hunting game beyond his station.

She was close now. The scent of the hunt was intoxicating.

Light feet carved through blades of grass with each step, but Aela's grip to the conflict brought her close to the boulder--closer than she needed to be--it was a moment of opportunity for him. A miscalculation grown from the seeds of arrogance from her. The sun bathed the lands in a shining orange aura, the rays caught his silvered steel body hunched in waiting. Her eyes flashed a dangerous spark of murderous intent as she stared down her bow, all it took was a lapse in time for the arrow to fly. But did she possess a lapse in time?

Whisker

 

[SomebodyElse]

Firae Arden

Location: Arriving in Karthwasten
With: No-one​

Arriving at Karthwasten was quite boring. Firae still had a ways to go before she ended up at Dragon Bridge. Maeve had much to speak about whenever Firae had managed to track her down. If she was even at Dragon Bridge. The bard had to simply trust her Clairvoyance. Otherwise why would she be lead towards Dragon Bridge in the first place. She didn't feel good about the disappearance of the others. Maeve was seemingly the only one who had left any trace of her location.
"Oh Maeve. You better explain everything that has transpired."

She still had some left of her homemade makeshift wine. A little trade secret was that she brewed them with juniper berries. It was amazing, to say the least. Taking a sip from the bottle heavily improved her mood and made her feel like bringing out the lute to sing a ballad.


"Our hero, our hero, claims a warrior's heart, I tell you, I tell you, the dragonborn comes
With a voice wielding power of the ancient nord arts, Believe, believe, the dragonborn comes
It's an end to the evil of all Skyrim's foes, Beware, beware, the Dragonborn comes
For the darkness has passed, and the legendyet grows, You'll know, you'll know, the dragonborn's come
Dovahkiin, dovahkiin naal ok zin los vahriin, Wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal
Ahrk fin norok paal graan fod nust hon zindro zaan ,Dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu draal
Huzrah nu, kul do od, Wah aan bok lingrah vod
Ahrk fin tey, boziik fun, Do fin gein
Nuz aan sul, fent…"

Ofcourse the dragonborn had disappeared a year ago. Alduin wasn't alive anymore but the war between the Empire and the Stormcloaks still raged on. Perhaps someone in Karthwasten had some idea of how to proceed towards Dragonbridge.
graytful

 

[Whisker]

Decimus Axillus

Location: Bruca's Leap Redoubt Date: Morndas, 5:06 PM, 5th of Frostfall, 4E 202 Status: In Hunt


Quests:
Talk to Delrik of the Silver Hand
Investigate Suspicious Deaths in the Reach
Complete the Hunt
Talk to Delrik upon Quest Completion

​

While time may have stopped for his foe, it passed in the blink of an eye for Decimus. In the split second he had lunged sideward for the cover of the rock, he felt something hard and fast glance the dusky leathers of his coat. Though he did not see what it was, fast as he was moving, the cold reality of the situation swarmed over Decimus the moment he hit the ground.

In the barest few seconds before he'd gotten his shot off, she had reacted. He'd noticed the wooden bow in her hands, but it had been lowered, an arrow casually notched between her fingers. To be able to pull it, aim, and fire so precisely as well as dodge his incoming bolt would take years of refinement and skill. And to be able to accomplish it so cleanly in the heat of battle was something else entirely.

Decimus touched his fingers to the small crease she'd managed to tear in his battered armguard, momentarily shocked. But there was no real time to linger. Her assault was relentless. A hard plink resounded against the boulder's edge. An arrow bounced and landed in the dust a few meters off to his left. Muttering an oath to Arkay, he reached for the bolt and jammed it hard into place, pulling the crank for a shot. Another arrow whistled overhead, this one accompanied by an exhilarated taunt.

"You should have stayed focused on vampires!"

Her voice was close, much closer than it had been previously, and gaining rapidly by the second. Without wasting any time, he lifted his crossbow up over his head and fired in the direction of her voice, though he did not dare to raise his head to challenge the menace of her bow directly.

"Ha! And you should have stayed further down the hill!"

His bolt spent and away, he dropped the crossbow and went for his blade, pulling it free of his scabbard in a deadly arc of silver steel that glimmered before the dying sun. In a rush that was more instinct than conscious thought, he sprung forward from his hiding place in the exact second as her arrow clipped it's next miss atop the rock.

A costly mistake.

She was now so close to him that he could make out the color of her eyes. Ghostly grey. Like a ripple of moonlight atop a frozen pond. What he didn't see, however, was exactly how they must have reacted when he came charging into her at full tilt with all the ferocity of a sabrecat taking on a snowbear. If it connected, the assault would likely send them both toppling on this uneven ground, but it made little difference to Decimus. His intention wasn't to ground her but to separate the Huntress from her seemingly one and only advantage: the bow in her hands.

"Best pray you can fight as well as you run your mouth," he snarled as he made to wrench her elbow up and painfully to one side, a move that would likely deflect the bow if not send it spinning from her grasp entirely should it actually manage to make contact.

Effloresce

​

 

[Effloresce]

Aela's eyes flashed with the briefest panic, her shot was robbed by a blind bolt she dashed aside to avoid. The whistling soared past keen ears and the silver-tip embedded within a towering tree just inches away, the shower of splinters a grim reminder of the power of Dawnguard technology. In the twilight of hard eyes, three red strands fluttered to the grass below.

Too close for comfort.

Yet to the Huntress' dismay, proximity wasn't going to get any better. She'd surrendered control of the terrain in an attempt to equalize their positions, she'd miscalculated. She was too close. All the woman could do was growl in silent frustration as she watched the arrow she'd loosed in retaliation sail haplessly into nothing but stone--like all the rest--though this time not even her unnatural speed could earn her the opportunity to nock again.

In a manoeuvre of reckless defiance that would make Farkas tremble with pride, her opponent charged her with a fire in his spirit that earned respect and scorn in equal measure. Her gaze narrowed, eyes set in beckoning challenge. Her inner wolf bounded at the prospectHis bull-headed assault lacked tact and skill, but he was brave, she'd give him that. Unwavering in the face of death. Though perhaps such a descriptor fell to her, the wind fled her lungs in a stinging moment of pained clarity, both hunter and hunted sprawling across the ground.

It was a clash that favoured him, his dawnguard plate was heavier than her nord armour, a full suit of steel wreathed around strong limbs. In a contest of raw strength, perhaps she would've won, but the momentum of his tackle felt like she'd been struck by a battering ram.

But it took more than a battering ram to unseat an apex predator.

Even as she gasped through red-hot lungs, ragged breaths gripping at fleeting air and an explosive pain setting deep within her left shoulder, Aela still stood. Pushed back and stunned, but to cede balance was to cede defeat. Through her bleary haze Aela whirled around and thrust her fist out, the man's taunts earning her ire and vengeance, but even a punch from a wielder of wolf-blood wouldn't free her arm from his wrenching grip. The Huntress' growl was all that belied her losing struggle. Cursing, she gave up the struggle as her elbow wrenched violently, allowing the bow to fly from her hands and pushed her foot into the man's stomach to give her a moment of distance.

A moment was all that was needed for the sword in her sheath to dart threateningly into open palms, the skyforge steel catching the sun's rays in a majestic glow, revealing the nordic runes that ran through the blade like veins.

Skjor was a simple man, but there was little he treasured more than this sword.

"Hah!" She scoffed, finding a surprising amusement in the man's haughty banter. "Let me give you a demonstration." Her teeth pulled back into a crooked snarl, the wooden rattling at her back reminding her of the relic hung idly, covered and abandoned.

She did not need it.

The Huntress darted forward and thrust to his left, ducking low and arching the blade at a rising angle, making it a troublesome deflect and keeping her as a smaller target. She had little plans of giving him space to set his feet. Soldier types, be they dawnguard, legionnaires or stormcloaks, loved nothing more than their ordered discipline. A flurry of blows would best test his resolve: had he been lucky or was he a fighter worthy of her death?
Whisker

 

[graytful]

Ellowin
Location: Karthwasten
Companions: None​

Ellowin grew weary as she descended from the mining alcove, the weight of her newly gained treasure weighing on her mind and body. She was deep in thought as she entered the village proper of Karthwasten when suddenly an unexpected melody pricked at her astute ears. The song itself was inspiring, and for a moment ebbed at the burden Ellowin was feeling in her spirit, but then came the words and her heart turned heavy again. In the past, the song was one that inspired, but now the titular hero of the tune had abandoned the nation while its' people were still deeply enthralled in chaos and violence, likely to pursue some riches or fame. A hero that is not loyal and steadfast to its people was no hero at all in the wood elf's opinion.

She lifted her golden eyes to glance at the source of the song, which was undoubtedly a sweet and merry voice. What Ellowin saw surprised her. A beautiful nord woman, wine-rosy in the cheeks, and clearly out place in the mining town. There wasn't even an inn here. Usually a bard as fair as this would be commissioned to travel with a party, not wander drunkenly through the industrial outskirts of civilization alone. A few of the miners were just beginning to rise from their barracks for the day and Ellowin was unsure how they would receive the bard. Ellowin shook her head, forever confused about the nature and intention of the native people of this land. Once she had admired them and their sense of national brotherhood, but ever since the civil war broke out Ellowin saw they were the same disloyal brutes as the rest. The woman was looking around, clearly searching for help or guidance. Ellowin tried to move quickly through the shadows on the far edge of the tiny village, shaking her head as she went. She had more important things to worry about. She just needed to remember where the bridge to the cave was.

The serious elf furrowed her brow, channeling her clairvoyance so she may be on her way to the cave quickly. But as soon as the light appeared before her she knew it was wrong. The path she saw was not pointing her out of town. Rather, it was looping back around behind her, and it was bright, indicating that the place she needed to be most was close by. In confusion and frustration Ellowin looked over her shoulder to see the path lead right to the tipsy bard woman, whose long hair and stylish attire were swaying with here, either to the music or to the ale or both. Ellowin sighed, tried to clear her mind, envision the cave, try again. But when she opened her eyes her destined course was the same. She dug her fingernails into her palm. She had a mission of her own, but her clairvoyance was strong and never led her astray. She had to have faith and let go of what she thought she needed.

Fine. She thought to herself in exasperation. She grabbed her bow, which was slung over her chest and shoulders, lifted it over her head, and held it tightly in her right hand. She then turned quickly and proceeded towards the singing woman. It did not sit well with her to be seen by others so shortly after a high profile robbery in the same town where her contractor resided, but she needed to resolve this. She walked up to the woman and lowered her hood. She didn't wish to frighten the maiden. Ellowin produced a gold piece from her cloak and held it out to the lady, who had noticed her.

"Strange song to be playing these days." Ellowin said shortly. She would see what this woman had to say, since she was clearly looking for someone to engage her.

SomebodyElse

 

[Whisker]

Decimus Axillus

Location: Bruca's Leap Redoubt Date: Morndas, 5:06 PM, 5th of Frostfall, 4E 202 Status: In Hunt


Quests:
Talk to Delrik of the Silver Hand
Investigate Suspicious Deaths in the Reach
Complete the Hunt
Talk to Delrik upon Quest Completion

​

There was no time to dodge. Even as her bow went skittering aimlessly across the grass, the Huntress was pivoting in place in a shocking display of balance, her foot slamming lightning fast into his groin. Decimus' breath wooshed out of him and he dropped back on to one knee. His head was spinning. He could barely see.

Scrambling back up onto his feet, he rose just in time to see her bearing down on him again, this time with a hulking steel blade instead of an oiled wooden bow.

"Let me give you a demonstration," he heard her say a breath before she struck, the arc of her rising blade almost impossibly fast from the left. He tried to dodge but was a second too slow. Her blade raked across his arm, sailed upwards, and crashed against the crest of his helm.

"Ah, fuck," the curse left his mouth before he could stop it as the resulting clang echoed like thunder in his ears.

Though it was almost silly given the circumstance, some part of him couldn't help but feel a detached sort of amusement. Guess I owe Isran an apology about not wanting to wear the bloody helm. Damn, she almost cracked my skull . . .

But as quickly as the thought came, it was gone, replaced by the icy claw of determination through the scarlet haze of pain. This was his hunt. And by the Gods, he was not going to be finished here!

Decimus spat out a small sliver of blood through the gap in his helm and began to backpedal furiously, trying to find a space at range from her onslaught. Though even as he dodged, Decimus knew the hailstorm of blows couldn't last forever. He'd gotten her good, too. He could see it written in the menacing fury of her gaze. He just needed to wait, find his moment, and strike. Just like he'd been told.

And finally the moment did come in the form of a blow he knew he could block.

As though a light switch flipped, Decimus stopped retreating all at once. His scrambling backfoot became a sudden sidestep. His sword cut forth in an angry blur to meet her own in a clash of sparks. And once her blade's momentum was stopped, it was all the leverage he needed to step forward, lock her blade against the crossguard of her sword, and send a sudden violent thrust towards the gap in her armor.

It was time to go on the offensive and start putting this hunt to bed.

Effloresce

 

[explosiveKitten]

“I come all the way out here, spend a week and a half traveling, going to this here Forsworn encampment so I can pluck the Briar Heart out of a Forsworn’s chest cavity, and when I finally get here there isn’t anyone here!”
The Khajiit sighed angrily as she continues to pluck snowberries off the nearby bush, grumbling to herself the whole while. This camp was abandoned, and guessing from the meager scrawled notes they had left on a conquest of Dragon Bridge. Really? Dragon Bridge, of all places! That place was so small she forgot that it even existed!

“That Briar Heart is so rare to find and you only find them residing where the human heart would normally be, amongst these crazed, leather-clad Reachmen!”
She stood with her handful of snowberries, the tip of her tail twitching in irritation as she turned away from the bush and glanced around the camp. “Well at least I can get something out of this. There’s gotta be something worthwhile here.”

So off she went, digging through the place, absolutely tearing it apart, searching for gold, magic items, gold, and potion ingredients. Anything she could scavenge from the place she was taking with her. On her way out, however, her keen cat ears picked up the sounds of battle in the distance. Turning in that direction, she blinked her odd eyes and glanced around before starting to run over.

When she skid in the grass to look around at the field, she found a couple of humans fighting to the death in the middle of a field nearby. Crossbow bolts were flying, blood and viscera. Angry words were being flung around. Ohhhhhh, this just might be worth the trip. The Khajiit rushed forward and vaulted up over several rocks and low-growing trees to get up on a big boulder so she could get a good view of the entire scene. When she sat down on the Boulder and got herself comfortable, she pulled a bottle of mead from her bag and snickered, “My money’s on the werewolf!”

Effloresce Whisker