Fandom The Second Rebellion (Skyrim)

[Sir Monsieur]

The two embarked from the inn and into the icy cold. The caravaner put up his hood It was snowing after all. The imperial and his new friend walked along the cobblestone road leaving little puzzle pieces in the snow. As they approached the gate the two got irritable looks from all over. The ones that watched them the closest were the guards, He could not see this but he could feel it (Because of the guard's masks).


When they left the city Jekkel could finally breathe, It was almost like the weight of the city's prejudice's were lifted off his shoulders. They stopped at a little fire pit to discuss their troubles. Jekkel was huddled very closely to the fire. "Do you mind lending me some of your fur?" He said jokingly. The Imperial had noticed the peculiar way Kumiko placed his bottle. Jekkel placed his bottle on top of Kumiko's. "Well, I actually travel alone sadly, let's just say I don't exactly follow the road. I get sidetracked a lot. In other words, I like to go the occasional spelunking, or perhaps stealing from bandits. The caravan thing is sort of a part-time thing." He said with a small sigh. "I am very familiar with most of the caravanners in Skyrim though, we get along with each other very well, I have known most of them since I was a kid." He said thinking upon his childhood. As they talked back and forth Kumiko mentioned not knowing where he was from, He didn't even know his family. Jekkel felt pity for the Khajiit, It reminded him of himself after his (Biological) parents died. The first couple weeks of fleeing Cyrodiil was tough, lonely, starving, terrifying. The thought of this sent chills down his spine. "You know you don't always have to be packless, The caravan could always use some more protection if you get what I'm prodding at." He said.


The further the conversation traveled the darker it got. Kumiko explained getting caught up in a murder plot and having to track down some ruin for an  Argonian. His story got jumbled up very quickly. "So let me get this straight you got mixed up in a murder plot, and now your job is to find a spell rune around the city?" Why the Khajiit needed to find a spell rune He had not the slightest of clue but if it will help him out might as well try to help. "Ok is it inside the city or outside?"


@0stinato

 

[MorgathosTheRussian]

((DON'T DIE YET.))

 

[AlbaGuBrath]

Saorat straightened up and nodded emphatically. "Right. Good luck, sir!" With that, she headed out the door, left a few coins as thanks where the smith would find them, and slipped out into the night.


The air was crisp and clear without being painfully cold, a relief after the unrelenting, piercing winds she encountered during her trek north. The stars blinked brightly far above the trees, but the moon was just the sliver of a smile and on the wane. In a couple nights, it would be gone completely. Superstitious folk would call it an evil time to be out, but Saorat would call it ideal sneaking conditions. As she trotted along the road heading west, she marvelled at the stillness and allowed her mind to wander. Here was peace and tranquility as citizens slumbered away in their humble cottages, briefly forgetting about the ravages of war, and as the other side of nature came into its own. Trees as old as kings and stones predating empires lined the trail, towering high into the night sky, watching over the lands below. It made her feel very small and insubstantial, like the jewel-like dartwings that skimmed over the salmon-streams, but also brought a measure of comfort as well. Even when kingdoms and empires fell, the mountains would remain and keep watch over Skyrim. If they called themselves the Sons and Daughters of Skyrim, then surely these were their Mothers and Fathers.


A thin wind shrieked through the air and straight into Saorat's bones, reminding her with a shiver that she had work to do. She walked along the road slowly, keeping close watch for both wolves and Legionnaires, though she wasn't certain which she was more concerned about meeting. But, with the farms behind her, it was only a short walk to her destination, so there was little chance of a beastly ambush. There was little of note along the road for a while, but when she saw an abandoned post at the end of the road, she knew she was very close. Immediately, she dropped into a crouch and slipped to cover (what was available) to the side of the road. Silently, she slipped past the old, oddly-named building and took a glance inside. It was currently empty, though it showed signs of recent activity. Probably poachers or bandits of some sort. If it stayed empty, could it be a good place to hide? She decided against it, it looked too open for her taste, but filed the information away.


As she moved forward, she began to see that her earlier estimates about the amount of cover were greatly exaggerated. There were trees, to be sure, but they were thinly scattered along the slopes, leaving devastatingly bare patches in clear sight of the tower. There was decent enough cover facing the eastern road into Morrowind, but that was in the exact opposite place they needed it. There was moderate tree-cover from the north-west and a spit of stone jutting out across the north-east, but both were downhill from the tower and covered with thick snow. In addition, the southern "hills" Saorat noted on the map earlier were, in reality, huge, hulking mountains with impassably steep sides and cruel, sharp edges. These mountains didn't look like benevolent guardians; they looked like vengeful gods. Saorat shuddered as she stared up into them, weighing in her mind the possibility of transversing them. There appeared to be some sort of construction or shrine high above the post to the west, but the sight of it filled her with nameless dread that compelled her to take her chances with the Imperials before risking such evil. Even if it was possible to reach that.... whatever it was..., she reasoned, it was still west of Traitor's Post and would be too far away for a shot, while the mountain prevented soldiers on foot from moving any further. In addition, the terrain was dangerously treacherous and was more likely to injure or kill them than the enemy soldiers were. Therefore, it was good, common sense that made her risk travelling in the open rather than taking the more hidden high road. Right?


Although the tall mountains blocked an attack from the south, they did still provide a bit of unexpected cover. Saorat clung to their sides as she slipped eastward, before coming to a small bit that jutted out for a little ways. As she peered over and around it, her body still pressed against the rock in safety, she spied the first really helpful bit of information she'd found on this trip. This rock spit looked directly across the road straight into the door of the tower and the two guards flanking it. A flicker of movement caused her to duck her head back behind the stone, but when she cautiously eased her head back out, she spotted a third man on top of the tower. She returned to her hiding place leaned against the rock face and considered their options. The mountain provided decent enough cover but would severe limit their movement if they approached along them. It might keep them safe from being ambushed from the back, but could also leave them trapped if the enemy pinned them down before they could escape. But what if the enemy never saw them? If she could reach the tower guard from here, would that leave the north side unguarded and safe for an approach? Of course, he would have to go down without a sound, which meant a nearly perfect shot, very difficult at this distance. With him on the tower, she assumed he would most likely be an archer as well. But, unless he was a Khajiit as well, Saorat clearly had the advantage with her sharp eyes, night vision, and the all-important element of surprise. It should work, if she didn't waste it.


She considered going back to Windhelm at this point, but curiosity drove her to seek out more. She didn't feel confident in her ability to remain undetected across the open ground, even with her natural talents, and opted instead to double back to the abandoned post and approach through the trees to the north-west. She did so, always carefully watching for any sign of movement from the guards, until the trees thinned out completely, leaving a wide, clear swath of snow stretching out between her and the tower. Perhaps it would be best to go now... But just then, the wind changed, carrying a few snatches of conversation with it.


"... just ... rumor, nothing..."


"But ... it isn't? ... What... we do? ... they ..."


"Nothing ... Let them ... own problems ... we've enough ..."


"Quiet! They ... hear you ... You know what ... people like you..."


Saorat's ears strained to hear the rest, but then the wind changed again as quickly as before, and the conversation froze into silence. But if she could get closer....


She watched the tower guard until he continued his patrol to the far side of the tower, then darted out across the snow as quickly as she dared, hurriedly sweeping her tail behind to blur her tracks. The wind and snow would probably obscure them by morning, but it was still good to be safe, even if it did threaten to freeze the tip of her tail off. As she touched the stonework, she heard a stirring above her head and immediately slipped into a shadow. The guard's head eclipsed the stars and hovered there for a heart-stopping moment with nothing between them but a bit of gloom, but eventually pulled away. Saorat would have breathed a sigh of relief, but didn't dare. Even more cautiously now, she edged around the back of the tower toward the cover she'd noted before. It was smaller than it originally appeared, but it would suffice. There was no door in the back, so any attackers would have to come around to the front to gain entrance. It left the defenders with no conventional means of escape if surrounded, but the tower was short enough to risk jumping with only minimal discomfort. However, it was still too tall to climb without tools, though it probably wouldn't be an issue otherwise. It was slightly taller on the north side due to the slope of the hill, but the soldiers were stationed on the south side. The guard on the tower would have a clear view in all directions except for the north-east looking into Morrowind, as it was blocked by trees. All in all, it was just a small little fortification, but easily defended by just a handful of men. Indeed, in this case, more than a handful would actually be more likely to be an encumbrance than an advantage.


Crouching in the bushes just behind the doorway, Saorat should have been able to hear any conversation clearly, but it had died before she arrived. The two men looked considerably less relaxed than they had before, like they expected someone to be watching them, but maybe that was just her imagination. Above her, she could still hear footsteps patroling, but they didn't stop at the edge again. A sound of movement caught her attention and she listened close. Yes, someone was walking around inside. Was it just the tower guard, or were there two of them? Could it be the guards' relief, or their commander? She could hear the chink of armor as they moved, but their steps sounded lighter than the average heavily-armored man. A pool of light spread out to the south of the tower, presumably from a torch, and Saorat could see the edge of the guard nearest her straighten up to attention. "What have you seen? Report!" She wondered who the speaker was. The fort's commander, perhaps? Or the guard from the tower coming down to confirm his suspicions of someone snooping around? The voice was authoritative and harsh, but had a strange quality Saorat didn't quite recognize. Was it of a higher pitch than the average inhabitant of Skyrim? Was it something in the inflection of vowels? It sounded cruel and arrogant, whatever it was. She decided she didn't like this voice. The flustered guard stammered out a reply and the unknown speaker made a dissatisfied grunt, then the pool of light faded away. As it did, Saorat thought she could see a glimmer of gold reflected on the snow. The guard also made an unhappy noise, but this one of anger and displeasure. "Why, I oughta..." he grumbled bitterly, but was interrupted by a harsh hiss of "Hush!" from the guard on the other side. Saorat decided that she didn't trust this strange speaker and needed to get away as quickly as possible. She waited again until the guard moved to the other side, more difficult now that she had to crane her neck to see any part of the tower above, then dashed back into the safety of the trees and the road to Windhelm.


@MorgathosTheRussian

 

[0stinato]

Kumiko sighed. Jekkel seemed so sharp but he wasn't entirely sure Jekkel was listening properly. Still, instead of being impatient, Kumiko opted for deciding to word his reply a little differently. The guards were minding their own business and, true to form, didn't seem to care at all about the slightly hushed conversation between man and cat. As he was thinking, his attention was drawn by the cart rolling up just along the way. Distracting his thoughts with its rumbling and clip-clopping hooves.


"Cart," he breathed, not looking at Jekkel but instead threatening the inanimate object about 15 metres away from him, "If you don't shut the hell up I've got flames with your name on them."


He turned back to Jekkel, "What did you ask? Oh! Shit. Yeah. Um, no, I said I have no idea where in Oblivion the rune is... I have a feeling he set it up inside the walls because then there'd be much more confusion and a good sneak would be able to get in and steal the journal quickly but... It could be anywhere around here. I tried walking a path I thought someone entering the city might walk, but I don't know where Silian is headed. He could go anywhere. He could go down to the Grey Quarter or to--"


Kumiko stopped as a few people began passing him, probably the people who arrived on the cart. A Nord couple who looked like local farmers passed, hardly bothering to look over to where Jekkel and Kumiko stood. Kumiko tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, giving slightly faltering smiles at anyone who passed. They didn't need to hear about the plot to murder--


"Ooh, Dibella's tits," Kumiko exclaimed quietly. He hadn't meant to say anything but apparently his reflexes had got the better of him. He reached out and grasped Jekkel by the arm as a male Redguard walked past. His face was hard to see, but the scimitar at his side - a weapon Kumiko felt he wanted and/or needed in his possession - as well as his apparel, all deep shades of cream or red, gave his race away. Kumiko couldn't be sure it was Silian but... whatever. He'd say it was and run with it.


"Jekkel!" he hissed. It was a hard word to hiss but somehow he managed it. "Uh. Uh. Quarry. Um. Something. Just... right there!" he raised his eyebrows to where the Redguard was walking. His shoulders were high and he was a little way behind the Nord couple, walking slowly. "It's him! I think. We're going to assume it's him!"


What else could they do but assume it was him? And they'd not discovered where the rune was yet.


This night was just one catastrophe after another.


"Follow him. Come on. Quietly, like," Kumiko said, teasing himself nearer to the centre of the bridge. He tried to walk with his usual half-swagger, but it ended up being a too-fast way to travel. So he had to tone it down and pretend he was talking with Jekkel again. He was excited and his tail would't sit still.


@Sir Jake

 

[MorgathosTheRussian]

"Hmmm, this is good. This officer, or however it is, could be a Thalmor agent. Striking at such a figure and destroying it could draw the attention of a higher power in the Thalmor or Imperial ranks. And destroying that..." Ologor said. After a few moments of pondering, he said, "Help yourself to some gear, it isn't much, but it'll help. Anyways, the intel I got does seem to be similar to the observations you made. According to this, there are 10 soldiers, and a regular patrol route along the road and to that destroyed house you found. Their commanding officer is of high rank for such a place, and could be a powerful mage and skilled warrior. Another five or so soldiers will be arriving in a few days from Riften, along with some much needed supplies. That's where it gets a bit interesting." He takes out another piece of intel, skimming over it, before saying, " Another five are to arrive every three days, with the number increasing to 10 every three days after a few weeks. We can expect this originally small camp becoming a large camp stretching across the area all the way to Karthwasten by the end of the year. That means that a great amount of the Imperial Legion could be located outside this city, making a rebellion virtually impossible."


"But we can still stop this. The intel also told me of a number of possible Stormcloak camps around Skyrim. Reestablishing contact between them could help regain power for the Stormcloaks, and allow for raids against larger targets to take place. In addition, the raids against all these circled locations would get a bit more support, supplies, and intel for us, along with stopping buildup in those areas and getting the attention of Ulfric. But we can't truly stop this till we unite Skyrim under one banner, and if Ulfric isn't found, someone must take the mantle." Ologor said. "But we have more pressing matters to attend to, we have an attack to prepare. It's time for the Stormcloaks to show we aren't defeated completely yet. Before we go, do you have any questions?"

 

[Sir Monsieur]

While Kumiko was threatening an approaching cart Jekkel gave a long sigh "It could be anywhere in the city? How are we suppose to..." The imperial let out a small yelp, his arm was jerked suddenly. He staggered behind his acquaintance "What was that for!?." He noticed the cat's mouthing something. From what he could make out it looked like he was talking about something with dancing potatoes? He gave a puzzled face until he noticed the Redguard walking past them. Jekkel immediately knew what he was talking about.


They slowly shadowed the man's footsteps, They were watching his every move. For Jekkel this was very exciting, his heart was racing. As exciting it was one thing was still clouding his mind, the rune. where could it be? A thought came to Jekkel the rune was meant for the redguard. "Are you sure we should be walking this close to this guy, he is probably going to lead us to the rune, if we are not careful." How were they suppose to retrieve this said journal? If he walks over the rune before the right moment there is a chance the book will become ashes.


"Friend not to rush you or anything but you might want to pickpocket that journel or conceive another plan" But after saying this Jekkel got an idea. "Ok here's the plan I'll try to sell the red guard some skooma, and you can trying fishing the journal from his pocket"


@0stinato 

 

[0stinato]

"Did I not tell you?" Kumiko muttered in response. "Coincidentally - and I mean gods could not predict this kind of coincidence, the Argonian man said the journal's fireproofed. But... actually that might be a better idea. Rob it off him now so we definitely have it... that's not bad..."


Kumiko carried on walking with Jekkel at his side, chewing his tongue as he thought of a way of getting the journal off the Redguard - provided it was Silian - and getting away. He thought Jekkel's skooma plan might work, although thinking about it was just making him crave the stuff... well. He had some of his own. He finlaly agreed to carry out Jekkel's plan. No matter how much he wanted to trust what V had said about the journal being fireproof, there were a few things that might mean that pickpocketing was better than robbing the Redguard's corpse.


The first issue was, what if the Redguard never walked over the rune, wherever it was? What if if had been triggered already, what if he managed to make it to safety and didn't explode and die instantly? And what if he survived? Kumiko himself had survived a fair few runes in his time, but he always wore armour - the Redguard was wearing nothing but Redguard civilian clothes. They'd offer very little protection and probably be more prone to burning themselves than stopping it.


There was another issue - what if the journal wasn't fireproof? Say the Redguard walked on the rune, it lit him up and he died. What if the journal went along with the rest of him? All effort up in flames for nothing.


And there was a final issue - what if this was all a big plot? Could it be that Kumiko, Thane of Riften, was approached by someone who was trying to overthrow him from that position? It wouldn't be an unusual jump, and it would be a pretty good plot to get rid of him. Simply tell the poor cat that there was a journal that needed to be retrieved, have said cat at the scene of the murder, have same cat have the victim's journal in hand... Kumiko would probably either be put to death, or not only his money but his position would be taken from him and he would walk through Skyrim as a known and scorned criminal.


Not like now. Where he was a secret criminal. Who sold skooma to children.


"Aaaalright," he eventually said. "Think we have a bit of time, do your thing, I'll try to get the journal from him... good luck," Kumi said, giving Jekkel a quick nudge on the arm. "We're in this together."


@Sir Jake

 

[AlbaGuBrath]

Sundas, 29th of Evening Star, 4E 205, 12:00 am


As slim as the possibility of Imperial control stretching all the way west to Karthwasten sounded, it wasn't one Saorat wanted to think about. Could they really have that powerful of a force? Where were they getting all these men? Surely they couldn't all be coming from Cyrodill, folks in the south had little interest in the "barren, barbaric wasteland" to the north. Were they coming from somewhere else? Could the Empire have an ally they didn't yet know about? Once again, Saorat was reminded of how frighteningly one-sided this conflict had been from the start, and now more than ever. But even if the Empire had a stronger arm, Skyrim had a stronger heart. Besides that, they knew the land and had its protection and blessing, and the friendship of the people. Surely, this would help them win their fight.


Saorat stifled a yawn as she listened to the report, turning to collect gear to hide her gaping jaws, concerned that Ologor may take insult. She wasn't dismissing his plan or not paying attention, quite the contrary! But, the truth was, she was exhausted. She'd been on the road all day, then spent the evening wandering around looking for information, and had just returned from yet another numbing trip through the wind and snow, even if the weather had cleared significantly. True, all of the Stormcloaks had experienced long, sleepless days many times before, bit it was still difficult to keep awake after a point. She hoped that he wouldn't try to plan an ambush tonight, though she couldn't object if he did. It would be a new moon in the next day or two, so that would be a better time at attack anyway.


Ologor was right; the gear wasn't much, but it would do. Particularly useful would be the leather boots and gauntlets, though she would miss the warm fur she currently used. Perhaps the fur articles would be useful while travelling here in the north, then she could use the leather ones when away from the snow. Was that greedy? She justified the decision by telling herself that, should they meet a soldier or civilian who lacked these articles, they would be grateful to receive the fur.


"Thank you, sir. These will be most useful." She hesitated a moment, then asked "Do you mean to attack the fortress... directly? With the mage there?"


Truth be told, Saorat had felt much more confident about the ambush before seeing the lay of the land and when she still only knew of four guards manning it. Hearing now that there were at least ten or fifteen against the two of them made her much more uneasy. And one of them a mage! She had forgotten that he may only be a simple soldier, the memory replaced by the worst-case scenario. The use of magic as a weapon frightened her and she regarded its users with a mixture of distrust and awe. True, she had been known to use a couple simple spells in a pinch, but that was in a moment of desperation and with only the smallest success.  But the ability to summon huge flames and lightning itself, or abominable creatures from the depths of Oblivion.... And to steal a person's very soul, and use their corpse as a weapon... What unearthly horror was this? And what sort of terrors were those who could wield them? What if all the soldiers were mages? What if they were Altmer, with their enhanced abilities? Was that where they were all coming from, the Summerset Isles? Even if they weren't magic users, their weapons and armor would surely cut through theirs like butter. What if....?


Saorat bit her lip as panic started to flutter in her mind and threatened to overwhelm her. She placed her paws behind her back and gently kneaded her claws against her palm, then took a slightly less shaky breath and continued. "What I mean is... If there are other camps nearby, we may be able to gather a force of our own that will be able to take the fortress, and maybe even eventually use it for ourselves. The new moon won't come for a couple more days, so we have some time. Perhaps... there are others who will come and stand with us? Or we can find some way to guard against... magic..."


@MorgathosTheRussian

 

[Sir Monsieur]

Apparently, the journal was fire retardant but luckily they were going with his plan anyways. Jekkel gave a small grin but there was one flaw in his plan he did not have any skooma on him. "Now there is just one flaw in my plan," he said scratching his head. "My skooma is currently with my cart." He said with a hesitant sigh. "If push comes to shove we can take him to my cart and do the deeds there." But this did not sound as appealing. It would nearly impossible to get the Redguard out of the city. Why, might you ask. If a man came up to you and told you that there was a secret supply of skooma outside the gates would you trust them? No that's what I thought. The imperial scanned his mind for any other possibilities for skooma, but this was Windhelm not Riften, you can find a Skooma dealer behind any ally of Riften but Windhelm... is not as easy."Perhaps you have a bottle of skooma on you?" He asked his furry friend. Hopefully, the Thane of Riften had a bottle, He thought this was highly improbable but it's worth a shot right.      


@0stinato 

 

[MorgathosTheRussian]

"A direct attack would be suicide, we must rely on stealth to lure them out and crush them one by one. However, if more troops do arrive, even luring them out would be dangerous." At the mention of the camps, Ologor nodded, and said, "Good idea, comrade. I believe there is a camp near the Barrow of Yngol or in those springs near Kynesgrove. It'd be risky to go to the Barrow, because of it's proximity to the Tower, but if we made contact with either of the camps, we could easily overrun the enemy. We'll check out the Barrow later this morning, and then go on to the Springs in the afternoon." After a moment of thinking, he got out a piece of intel and he continued, "The mage will be an easy target. They are formidable, yes, and should be feared. But they can't protect completely against a Dragonbone greatsword to the skull. I'll handle him and anyone guarding him. Though I suspect we may have a bigger threat than that. This says that "...three Guardians have been allocated to help the commanding officer guard the outpost against any possible assault. Heavy armor from Summerset Isles and crossbows have been diverted to the Guardians..." These Guardians seem to be heavily armored and dangerous, so we need to be careful. But enough of that, you need rest. I'm going to leave you here, and wait by the main door. I'll wake you up at 7:00. Rest well." After that, he left the room, and went to the main door, quietly singing an old song his father taught him. @AlbaGuBrath

 

[0stinato]

"Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhh nooooooo..." was probably the strangest and most painful noise Kumiko had made in a long time as he reached a reluctant hand into his pack and withdrew a small, carefully wrapped, bundle. He slid from it three small green bottles and handed them to Jekkel without looking at them. To view himself handing over his precious, precious drugs would be too painful.


"Take them. Quick. Do your thing. And if he takes them, I want them replaced. And if he doesn't, I expect them back. Just... do your plan, gods be damned..."


What was he supposed to soften the night with now? His Cliff Racer, still waiting patiently in his pack to be drunk, would be a regular old Cliff Racer. Just Talen-Jei's original recipe, named after the thought-to-be-extinct beasts of Morrowind, a good and tanging mixture of Dunmer drinks, it wouldn't make his heart race tonight. No. It wouldn't be a Racer. It'd just be a regular old Cliff. And how depressing - how utterly depressing - was that?


He let Jekkel relieve him of the bottled ecstasy with a few more stifled groans. He had to keep the noise down; if he made too much, the guards ahead might notice. But they seemed too busy interrogating the two farmers about their business in Windhelm this night. They liked doing that. Or maybe that was their job? But even in Riften, the City of Crime, the guards didn't grill someone on what their business was in that city. They just let the bastard in. But then again, Windhelm was about as friendly as Mehrunes Dagon if he sat on his own razor. Disagreeable at best.


Kumiko winced at the idea of sitting on your own razor. Eesh. He had to be careful when giving his muzzle a quick spruce up, but thinking the razor could be down there?


"Oh, Gods, Jekkel, get on with it," Kumi said, disgusted by his own mind's ideas. "Please, for all our sakes."


@Sir Jake
(It begins!)

 

[Sir Monsieur]

"Well this is the kitties milk is it?" He said snatching the bottle quickly from his claws. "Don't worry friend I have a crate full back with my caravan, I'll let you have a good portion of it" It almost pained Jekkel to take the skooma but it simply had to be done. "Let's work some of my magic," said the caravaner as he cracked his knuckles. "watch for a signal" He began to approach the man, he looked tense perhaps this skooma would be good for him. The redguard wore traditional redguard attire and to his side laid a shiny curved sword at his side...curved, sword?


"Hello friend your not from around here are you?" The redgurad gave a timid stare "you look stressed from your travels friend tired almost. Let's say I can fix that with some old Imperial magic" The man in red seemed interested enough "I'm listening" Said the redgurad. The caravaner gave a sly smile before going on with his deal. "This here is magic in a bottle," He said snatching the bottle from his pouch. "Watch as your troubles are quickly lifted from your shoulders." Jekkel realized it was about time for the signal. He retrieved yet again another item from his bag. It was a shiny septum. He flipped the coin over the red guards head and landed on the icy stone road. This implicated the signal hopefully the Kumiko was not too distracted with his tail to noticed.        


@0stinato 

 

[AlbaGuBrath]

Sundas, 12:00 am, 29th of Evening Star, 4E 205


"Right... Sounds like a plan. Thank you, sir..."


Saorat saluted, then waited for him to leave before turning to sort through her things. She unstrung her bow and put it away, and checked that her armor was still safely stowed away and ready to be donned before travelling the next morning. It felt strange to be back in civilian clothes now; for the last four years, she had practically lived in armor. It was a bit of a disconcerting thought that she never felt entirely safe without her kit, and wondered what it was like for people who lived their lives without fear of soldiers. But, one day, she and her brothers and sisters would share in that. One day, they wouldn't have to be afraid.


It was also a bit strange to be indoors, as she was accustomed to camping in hidden groves for safety and to avoid trouble with the locals. Of course, she was welcome in Windhelm and had a safe place with the Grey-manes in Whiterun after helping them find their son, but otherwise she considered inns to be a bit risky. Even here she felt a little uneasy with the small room and only one door leading to a narrow hallway, but she put the familiar worries away. If she wasn't safe here, where would she be?


As she settled in, she thought about the plan for the next day. Travel to the... Barrow of Ygnol, was it? And then to Kynesgrove. She knew of Kynesgrove, but had never been there. It was somewhere just off the road to the south, wasn't it? But she'd never heard of this Barrow of Whatever or what might be around it. Sometimes these barrows housed the treasure of kings or ancient artifacts... What if some legendary warrior was buried there and it held something of great power destined for the liberation of his kingdom? Why, then there would be no question as to the legitimacy of Skyrim's king and would call her people to them from all directions, and the Empire would return to Cyrodill and the Thalmor to their lands and would never reign over SKyrim's people again. Maybe even, one day, the provinces would each be their own kingdom, but would cooperate and support one another as friends rather than adversaries. Saorat smiled to herself at these pleasant thoughts, expounding them in her mind. Ulfric would be High King, chosen unanimously by his people, with the strength to defend his land, but the wisdom to know whether or not to use force. The people would be happy and prosperous, even those who initially favored the Empire would change their minds when they saw what a good and just rule came from the change. Songs would be sung of the great deeds that won back their land, and children and elders alike would listen in wonder and pride at the stories for generations to come. There was no question about it, unearthing some great symbol would be just the thing to encourage the people to stand strong against the invaders and to remind them of their history. This might even end the conflict now, without another drop of blood spilled.


Saorat faded into sleep as these images danced through her head, convinced that there was something that would give Skyrim back its soul. It was there, and she was going to find it.


( @MorgathosTheRussian


It's a bit short, but I did manage to find a little bit of time to write. Fair warning, though, Saor may be about to do something silly... (x )

 

[0stinato]

Watch for a signal. Huh? What vague instruction was that? Kumiko knew they didn't have much time to do this little haphazard plan, but Jekkel could have at least told Kumiko what the signal would be. He gave an eye-roll in the darkness as Jekkel left his side, continuing his pace of walking, catching up to the Redguard. He decided to just keep an eye out for something odd Jekkel would do. Would Jekkel do an odd wink? Or perhaps he'd slap his thigh or something. Pretend to catch a fly in mid-air. Say a phrase. Something weird. Signals were usually weird.


Kumiko wasn't smart enough really for signals like that. That was another reason he appreciated Farkas' way of doing things. If Farkas knew the territory, he led the way. Kumiko would be behind him, or somewhere nearby, and, if Farkas was going to signal, he'd either just say Kumiko's name, say "Left!", "Right!" or "Down!" or, if speech couldn't be implemented, he'd catch Kumiko's eye somehow. They never went too far from each other.


At one point, Kumiko had told Farkas that if he stuck his tongue out it meant there was an enemy. If he crossed his eyes, it was a sign that Kumiko would take care of an issue. So, if he crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue, he'd take care of an enemy. Usually, Farkas had to stay a little way back anyway as he'd chuckle at Kumi's face. So in a sneaking situation, he'd have to try and contain himself.


Kumiko kept walking, listening with his sensitive ears to the sales patter Jekkel was spouting.


"Watch as your troubles are quickly lifted from your shoulders," he said.


Kumiko gave a half-smile to the air. Skooma was a life-ruiner in some cases. He knew it was smoked for maximum effect, the vapours being much more potent if inhaled, but Kumiko always drank it. Just dissolved it in his Cliff Racer or such. It was easier that way, and meant he didn't have to out himself as a skooma-indulger as clearly. Besides, drinking it took the edge off usually. Though it did keep him high for longer. It was what it was, and Kumiko enjoyed a little bit of skooma now and again. He could go without it for a while, but sooner or later he'd get the little nagging feeling in his blood that reminded him he wanted it. At the moment, he was just trying to not overdo it. Maybe once, twice a week, tops. Sometimes not at all. Sometimes he couldn't risk it. Can't risk having a little hit of skooma the night before an important meeting with the Jarl... even if the high's worn off by then, Kumi had a tendency to just... sleep for hours after.


Well. Can't have the high without the low.


Then, Jekkel made an odd movement. Pinging a septim onto the road for no reason at all. Kumi wanted to pick it up - the gold hoarder in him was hard to ignore - but he assumed it meant get to work.


So Kumi gave a quick glance over his shoulders before dropping and sidling up to just behind the Redguard. He was in his element, this was his thing. As he did so, he felt part of him shrink. He used to practice that feeling, trying to suppress his aura. Hide the fact he was there at all, if anyone tried to detect him that way. Now it was automatic. Just believe you aren't there and you... vanish. Into the night.


Kumiko eyed the Redguard's pouch on his right side. On the left was the sword, apparently just leaning against the Redguard's hip. So the other side would be his belongings. A rather loose little thing really, Kumiko's deft fingers made haste into the pouch. A few touches confirmed to him that the Redguard had on him a few septims of his own, possibly a key or two, and some smooth items he took to be bottles. Not unusual. Rough fabric, something inside its own hidden pouch, and another rough item. He placed his bets on it being the journal - it had corners.


So, grasping it firmly between two of his clawed fingers but putting no weight on the Redguard's pouch as he did so, he swept his hand out of the pouch with - yes - a small book. All his, all his. That was the good thing about Redguards - their clothes were always kind of baggy. Not like Nord or Elven casual wear. They'd all have string or thread holding everything bodytight. Not to mention that Kumiko had always found Redguards had a certain level of arrogance to them. Not that he could blame them for that. After all, they carried curved swords for Arkay's sake.


Kumiko moved away from the Redguard, straightening and slipping the journal into his own pack. And finally began breathing again. Now, as long as the Redguard didn't rat out Jekkel for being in possession of skooma - a move which would get not only Jekkel arrested but Kumiko too because of the Nords' stigmas - they'd be able to breathe easy. Gods did Kumiko need that skooma now.


@Sir Jake


(I kind of want something to go wrong for them, but I'm aware we can't waste too much time until we get to the main storyline...)

 

[Sir Monsieur]

To Jekkel's eyes, Kumi was doing his job now all that needed to be done was for Jekkel to finish his own. The imperial began to close in on the red guard. Inching closer to him ever so slowly. "You see this stuff will take you to a paradise of your own." But to Jekkel's miss fortune, something clicked inside the head of the red guard's head. It was almost like a light bulb but a very dim light bulb at that. "No! I'm not buying any of that veil substance from you." The caravaner gave a long sigh of annoyance. "Veil!? no no no sir I think you have this all wrong. This is no veil substance this is but nature's sweetest honey, clouds in a bottle. You want this, you know you want this" but the wielder of the curved blade began to back up. "Don't try to tempt me with your honeyed words! get away from me!"


The red guard tried to strafe right but Jekkel quickly intercepted him. He put his arm around his neck as if they were good friends that had a bit too much to drink. A guard began to approach them from the left "Damn!" He muttered under his breath. The red guard was starting to put up a fight. "What seems to be the problem here citizens," He said calmly as if the guard encounters this every Sundas. "This man is trying to sell me Skooma!" Stated the man in red garbs. The Hairless Khajiit quickly hid the small bottle behind his back. "Cleary someone's been drinking a little too much mead," Jekkel spat out abruptly. He began to shake the bottle, He was trying to get Kumi's attention. If he could take the bottle and perhaps plant it in the red guard's clothes they could frame the bastard. It was then he realized that he was giving a skooma addict a bottle of their own tea. It was at this time Jekkel knew he had just made the biggest mistake of his life.


@0stinato    


(I think this will work.)    

 

[MorgathosTheRussian]

As the sun rose above Windhelm, Ologor stirred from his watch and stretched his stiff muscles. With a groan, he used his greatsword as a staff to get up, then walked over to the room where Saorat was sleeping. He had been up for many hours, though this wasn't the first time he guarded a house. Nor would it be the last. "Wake up, comrade. The sun is rising, greet the new day." he said, shaking his comrade gently. "Meet me by the stables when you are ready." he continued. 


Fast forward to the stables...


"So, the Barrow of Yngol. A legendary warrior from the far north is buried there. The tales of old told of a mighty helm that is hidden there, and a fearsome ghost that guards a great treasure. And the springs of the Eastmarch, the steaming hot marshland. Deep within these salty wastes, past giant camps, is a massive cavern, home to a tree older than all of Skyrim and nearby that, a large Stormcloak camp. We need to get to each one before tomorrow, which one do you think we should go to first?" Ologor asked. @AlbaGuBrath


((Sorry for the short post and long wait. School and life are some real big buggers.))

 

[0stinato]

Ack, shit. Silian had decided to rumble them, the bastard. Why couldn't he just let the pair of them switch out his journal and coin with a little harmless bottle of narcotics? It was risky enough to do this little stunt on the bridge, he could at least accommodate them. But, apparently not. Kumiko backed off a metre or so, so that he could still hear and see what was going on, his Khajiit eyes granting him the enhanced night vision, and maybe get Jekkel out of trouble if he was going to get in some. Because a guard was walking up.


Of course, Kumiko could just run off and leave Jekkel behind but if Silian wasn't accepting the skooma, Kumiko wanted it back. And it was currently in Jekkel's hands. All Jekkel's patter about how skooma would solve all his problems and was like nature's sweetest honey had made his blood crave it again.


In all truth though, maybe it was good the guard was getting involved now. One crime - the selling skooma crime - would remove any suspicion that there was a second crime just committed, if anyone even saw. Skooma was treated more seriously than pickpocketing or thievery and Kumiko sort of wished it wasn't. Where was the thrill if the guard was only going to give you a slap on the wrist? But possible jail time if you were caught enjoying nature's sweetest honey? Ridiculous.


"For the love of Dibella, Jekkel..." he breathed to himself. He'd have to get his new friend out of this. He could try to--


Jekkel was shaking the bottle of skooma - his bottle of skooma - behind his back. A take it, quick, signal. Kumiko's blue eyes lit up and his blood flared. Yes. Yes!


Now. There is something pretty simple Kumiko could have done to sort this whole mess out. But it isn't what he did. What he could have done would be to step in and misdirect the guards under the name of the Ambassador for Riften. He could have easily scapegoated the two farmers up ahead, the ones that had dismounted the cart with Silian. He could have easily told the guards that one of them had dare steal from him. Him! The Thane of Riften and he'd been pickpocketed by a few bastard farmers! Arrest them at once, I will be telling Jarl Shatter-Shield about this! Your city is a mess! Clean it up, get this scum out of here!


He could have done that. It might have required a bit of thinking and on-the-spot planning, yes, but it was very possible for Kumiko to have done that and got him and Jekkel out of there. But it wasn't what he did. Far from it.


Upon seeing Jekkel offering the skooma back to him, Kumiko's mind went A.W.O.L. He drew up a little closer, reaching out his hand to snatch the little bottle away from his companion. Jekkel wouldn't get in trouble if Silian couldn't prove it! He was unable to hold back a cat-like yowl of excitement at having the all-too-familiar bottle in his gauntletted paw. But, as he realised he made some sort of ridiculous loud noise, he panicked and so, in a quick attempt to resolve the situation, he shoved Silian into the guard.


"Shi-- shit, c'mon, now! Gods!" Kumiko cried, tugging on Jekkel's arm as he leaped past the tumble of men.


Dibella's tits, Kumiko! What in Oblivion are you doing, you dumb cat?! he screamed at himself in his head as he headed at a run back into the city, slipping through the huge doors after the farmers who had turned to see the commotion.


Somewhere behind him a guard - maybe the one he'd questioned earlier - called out, "You! The Khajiit! Stop!" but Kumiko was just trying to get out the way. He'd screwed them both now. Gods, had he screwed them both.


@Sir Jake (A delightful mess!)


(Also, @Dragonix975 Kumiko's gonna come back to Veryon with the journal soon!)

 

[Sir Monsieur]

"Imperial is this true?" asked the guard in a shredded voice. "Pfffsh.... of course not." He said shrugging off the question. "I mean if I was selling Skooma I certainly wouldn't Eek!" It was almost like Jekkel disappeared from the scene. First, he was trying to calmly talk his way out of a scam the next he was being walked by a cat. This sudden act completely took the caravaner off guard this caused him to stumble but he quickly recovered. Kumiko took off running with Jekkel's arm in hand - er I mean paw.  He cursed before muttering "Why did I give you the skooma!?" The imperial was taling Kumi, he was practically on his heels if he was to run any faster the two would have toppled over each other. The guards were not happy, it was only a matter of seconds before a couple of guards were on their trails. "Kumi what's the plan! Hide or run to my caravan! it's very likely my horses can outrun them." His frantic breath condensated in the chilled air. If Jekkel were not running he would be likely be frozen but to his luck (Or disadvantage) Adrenaline was pumping through his veins. Jekkel was beginning to panic, they had not a plan and were unprepared. He began to breath harder. "What the hell are we going to do!?"     



@0stinato

 

[Kent]

Gabriel Schiadda
​

Run. Escape. Live. Fight. Hide. These were the words that filled gabriel's mind. He was riding his horse, Angel. They were running through the woods, avoiding trees. He has just escaped Solitude, but multiple guards on horses were still pursuing him. Then the worst happened. Angel abruptly stopped. He checked why and noticed that they were on the edge of a cliff. The Soldiers were closing in. 
​

'Curses' He thought. The soldiers arrived. They dismounted their horse. He was surrounded. The only way to escape without fighting is to jump of the cliff, there was a river below, but that would be cowardly. An inperial soldiers stepped in. Gabriel knew him. One of the Imperial captains.
​

"It's all over General or should I say Traitor." He said. The captain tried to be as intimidating as possible. Gabriel dismounted angel and chuckled. 
​

"I didn't become a member of the circle or a general of the imperial army for nothing." He said calmly. He then unsheathed The Daedric sword. It shine red under the full moon. "I tried my best not to hurt anybody, but you people forced me." He got his sword and shield ready. He was wearing his full ebony armor minus the helmet as he is also wearing a cloak over the armor. He then ran towards the soldiers, they were nervous, he knows it. Fighting a general who they served and looked up formerly. He blocked a strike from one of the soldiers. He then spun and aimed for the legs of one of the soldiers. Disable them, not kill. The soldier dropped his sword and screamed in pain. One down, four to go. The Captain looked at them with a nervous face.
​

"What are you idiots doing?!" He bellowed. "KILL HIM!" The soldiers listened to their commander and charged for him. He dodged the strike of one and again strike the soldiers leg. He also dropped his sword. The soldiers were now losing their morale. He parried the strike of one soldier and elbowed the one behind him and strike his shoulders. There were only two left excluding the commander who was now mounting his horse. Gabriel looked at him with a furious face. I may now be a traitor, but I will not accept this kind of action from one of the Imperial officers. He then ran towards him strike the legs of the horse. He fell and was now lying on the ground. He looked at Gabriel with a scared face. 
​

"Cowards deserve no mercy." He then pierced his neck with his sword. The other two soldiers left looked at him in horror. He cleaned the blood of his sword, fixed his cloak and mounted angel who was waiting. Gabriel looked at the unharmed imperial soldiers.
​

"Take care." He then rode off towards Windhelm. He was hoping to ressuply there and possibly find Ulfric if he was still alive. The imperial reports said he was dead, but it could have been false. A tale by the thalmor. 
​

 
​

A day and a half later.
​

He finally arrived at Windhelm. He was glad to see the city. There were many troubles while traveling to Windhelm. Wolves and bandits everywhere. By now, news of his betrayal must have scattered all over skyrim. His cloak was still perfectly fine, but some parts of his Ebony Armor can be seen. He was halted by a guard in the gates. 
​

"Halt!" Said the guard "You look suspicious, what's your reason for being here?" Gabriel looked at him from his horse. He showed his face and the guard immediately recognized him.
​

"General Gabriel!" Said the guard in surprise.
​

"Im not a general now" He said. "The travel was long and perilous from the capital, I wish to ressuply at Windhelm and then meet the officers of the Stormcloakd." He said calmly.
​

"Yes, of course, please proceed. Windhelm has many to offer." The guard said. He then proceeded inside the city. He looked at the surroundings and smiled. Nothing changed. The snow was still many. He was heading to his house when he encountered two people running as if they committed a crime. He then blocked their way with his horse preventing them to run any further.
​

"Hello, what seems to be the.. problem..." He then noticed the other person was the thane of Riften. What was his reason for being here? Was he causing trouble in windhelm? His title as thane of riften has no effects in other areas.
​

"Ah, if it isn't Lord Kumiko of Riften." He added. "May I be of assistance?"
​

@Sir Jake @0stinato
​

 

[0stinato]

"I have no plan, there is no plan, I don't know what we're-- oh Gods!" Kumiko halted fast, causing Jekkel to crash into him a little. Behind him, guards were approaching. But Kumiko couldn't run any further, no longer, for his path was blocked by a strong-looking horse, snorting clouds into the cold air. It seemed like a dream somehow, a slight steam from its hind quarters as sweat left its body. And mounted on it was a man, his face hidden by a helmet and the darkness, talking. Addressing someone. Addressing him.


Kumiko tilted his head. One hand was still gripping the skooma tight, the other was still clamped around Jekkel's arm, "Wh..."


"Halt right there, criminal!"


"Ohh, Gods, the guards, yes... whoever you are... guardian angel," Kumiko said quickly. "Uhh hide us?" He turned a toothy smile upwards. "Now. Please. Quickly."


He'd royally screwed Jekkel over as well as himself. It'd probably be a while before Jekkel or Kumiko could show their faces around Windhelm... long enough for the guards to either forget the incident or stop caring. Well, provided they could get out of the city without getting arrested...


Jekkel had asked what they were going to do. And Kumiko's mind wasn't working well at the moment. So he considered the man on horseback to be... some sort of omen. Or karma of a good thing he did coming back to him. Some sort of, as he'd said, "guardian angel." The man would help them, maybe not save them, but help them. And he'd recognised Kumiko... he had respect for Kumiko, he had respect for Thane Tora of Riften. He was going to... someone in this city was actually going to help instead of ask for help. Kumiko pulled Jekkel around to the other side of the horse so its muscled body blocked the view and path of the guards slightly. Now all he could do was hope to the Gods that the man would get them out of here. Reveal himself as a spirit sent of goodwill.


And this was quite a high. Kumiko was almost inclined to drop the skooma bottle where he stood. He'd not need it any time soon, not after this. Rebellion and troublemaking, they were all things he greatly enjoyed. Sneaking, assassinating, thieving... it was a different and better high than skooma could provide him. It lasted longer. It was addictive, it sent the adrenaline scarring his blood vessels and exciting his muscles, it was great. Skooma was more... it was more like playing a game. It was more like sitting down and playing a game of draughts, getting the created high from winning or losing. It wasn't quite the same. Enjoyable but... not the same.


But Kumiko didn't drop the skooma. Even if he wasn't going to indulge any time soon, it was a useful thing to have. After all, that little bottle had allowed him to grab the journal that his Argonian acquaintance wanted...


Oh, no. How would they get the journal to the Argonian now? Would it have to be a drop-off? No, Kumiko would have to go back to Candlehearth Hall anyway... get his letters... but... that would have to happen later. He'd do it later. Yeah. Right now, he had to get Jekkel to safety. It wasn't his fault Kumi had freaked out, was it?


"Let's... let's go, come on!" he said to the man on the horse, giving Jekkel a mad grin as he did so.


@Sir Jake @Wickedkent

 

[Vorar]

A hollow wind gently carried the snow through the paved streets of Windhelm, the City of Kings, as the inhabitants of the great city slumbered through the cold of the night. Though the city was one of immense significance as it is the oldest city of Man in Skyrim, perhaps in all of Tamriel, its large walls and towers were still in the shadow of the Velothi Mountains that served as a natural border between Skyrim and Morrowind. Enthroned upon one of the higher foothills of the mountain range stood a shrine composed of three levels. A small area was located on the lowest level of the holy site where a small dozen cultists were sparring with one another in the grim pale light of the moon that was lurking upon the horizon as it faced the misty peaks of the Velothi Mountains. On the mid-level, there were tents with bedrolls, food supplies, arcane enchanters and alchemy labs. On the highest level of the shrine stood a mysterious pillar in the shadow of a great statue that depicted a dark female figure wielding a dreaded sword high in the sky that was wreathed in wild flames.


"Into battle strides the Daedric Prince, blade at the ready to cleave the unworthy.", those were the words spoken in the Daedric tongue that ended the sermon that the Dunmeri Priestess Imara held in front of the Pillar of Sacrifice, her dark crimson eyes met those again of Gillan Llarethi as she began to speak Tamrielic, "The Queen of Shadows continues to favour thee, for even in this age of uncertainty thee remains to stand with wisdom in thy mind and vigor in thy hands." The Dunmer male took a step forward, whilst saying: "I exist because I have the will to do so.", he said as he cited the words that were inscribed upon the Pillar of Sacrifice. In a moment of silence, the two both looked at the towering statue of Boethiah until the old wizard took a few steps forward as he gazed at the pale face of the moon. "What troubles thy mind?", the priestess asked as she gently caressed the mystic stone of the pillar. Gillan nodded, but his gaze into the far distance on the horizon remained firm: "What troubles us all, Imara. What troubles us all.", he said before he took a deep sigh, "The restless silence that hangs in the air, not only here in the North's cold, but in all of Tamriel. The fear. The fear of a dark shadow that is lurking upon us all from all corners, one that has grown to be darker than midnight itself. Soon it will attempt to swallow the earth once again, but this time the Mede Empire won't survive it." Another deep sigh was taken by Gillan as he descended the stairs of the Sacellum of Boethiah with Priestess Imara at his side.


On the second level, the two stopped as they overlooked the training session of the Boethiah cultists in the small arena that was on the holy site's ground floor. Both of them looked at the trainer of the cultists, Sir Audenian, an Imperial Knight who was served as the Commander of the Palatial Guard of the White Gold Tower before his devotion to Boethiah was discovered by the general public which made him resign on his own to not give his imperial sovereign, Emperor Titus Mede II, any more trouble than necessary. "Its fall will be hard for him, he will always remain a part of the Empire of Man at heart.", Imara said quietly. Gillan, however, shook his head: "No, it won't. Much of Mankind has been preparing for the fall of their age since the declaration of the Great War. They know it will only be a matter of time.", He said before he turned to gaze into the far south, "We all do." The Priestess of Boethiah nodded and after a brief moment of silence, she began to speak in a more plain tone: "But what will you do now then Gillan? Join the cause of the fallen Bear of the North? The Enemy is everywhere and none are safe, you said it yourself." The wizard chuckled as he turned to Imara: "Well, who is there left to follow? The King In Rags, as venerable as they are, Madanach and the Witchmen of the Reach won't stand a chance and in their wisdom, they decided to remain neutral in this conflict. The Old Kingdom remains to bleed without its kings to protect its people and its ancient glory. They should have just stayed with the Empire in the first place, their worship of Talos was never worth all this bloodshed.", Gillan said before he took a deep breath and that more sounded like a sigh of disappointment, "But we won't be able to change those turns of events. I will leave at dawn for Windhelm and see what fools still seek to avenge their fallen king." The conversation between the two then fell at a quick rate as they longed for their rest, whilst the darkness of the night continued to keep the skies of the North in its grasp.


The sun's golden honey gilded Windhelm its legendary Valunstrad, meaning in the Avenue of Valor,  from which the Palace of Kings watched the ancient city of Man from which the entirety of the Nordic Empire was ruled from its high and mighty throne. The paved streets of Windhelm were walked upon mere dozens of people as the city was yet to awoke. Numerous commemorative plaques of great rulers that once ruled from the great city's palace dominated the lives within the districts as the lifeless stone of the past gazed into their souls and made them think of their actions and remind them of what glory and horror the world still had within it. The contingents of the City Watch manned the colossal walls and towers of the grim city, whilst the mightiest warriors protected the kingless throne of the palace, the government that acted in its hollow name and the remaining courtiers of its household with the sigil of House Stormcloak adorned upon their cuirasses of leather and iron. In the foothills of the Velothi Mountains, the light of dawn had removed the black shadow of the night from the Sacellum of Boethiah as the cultists of the Daedric Prince of Plots were sharing their breakfast with one another in the early hour on the second level. At the holy site's stairs, Gillan and Priestess Imara said their farewells to one another. Imara had her right hand laid upon the bald head of the wizard as he kneeled in front of her. "Fate, monstrous and empty, the whirling wheel of evil.", The priestess said as she cited the words of one of the Old Temple's sayings. Gillan would then rise from his feet and merely nod at her in silence, it was enough for the two of them, as the battlemage turned around and left the shrine in the light of the new day as he made his way to the City of Kings.

 

[Sir Monsieur]

I guess you can say Jekkel was head over heels for Kumiko, I mean this quite literally. Jekkel came crashing down with his feline companion in the middle of their "Well" thought escape. There laid Jekkel at the hooves of a horse? He tilted his head ever so slightly to the figure above him. On top of this horse rode a man. A man in a cloak, the man's cloak was particular bulky. He could only assume that the man was hiding armor under this cloak. At his side laid a sheathed weapon. All that could be seen was the hilt of the weapon. Oddly enough he could not Identify the weapon. It did not appear to be human made, If it was human made it was unlike anything he had ever seen. The stranger boldly demanded if there was a problem. The first thought that came to Jekkel was "Yea there is a problem, your in our way" But the caravaner kept to himself. Kumiko was muttering about some guardian angle, All Jekkel saw before him was danger. The image of himself and Kumiko getting thrown in jail quickly came to mine. He glanced behind him quickly. "Damn those guards are slow." Something else caught Jekkel's eye, it was something shiny in the middle of the road. It took a moment for the caravanner to realize it was gold, and sadly to say it was his own gold "Sweet mother of Talos!" he muttered. It must have slipped from his bag on impact. He quickly scrambled to his feet and snatched as much gold as he could muster. There the two stood in front of a man and his horse. Jekkel carefully listened to Kumi's words. apparently, these two were familiar with each other. Yet again the Imperials arm was tugged away from his current position, his arm was being guided swiftly behind the man with the cloak. This lead to the chime of many septums falling to the ground. He had to bite his lip to let the buggers go. For some odd reason, The caravaner had the feeling that they were being watched but this feeling was quickly put to rest when he noticed Kumi was eyeing him madly with a crazy grin on his face. Jekkel gave a shrug, "Are you sure we can trust this man" Jekkel had no idea why he was threatened so much this mystery man. Was it the man's cloak, his weapon, his horse or maybe the look in his eye?   


@0stinato @Wickedkent

 

[Kent]

Gabriel Schiadda
​

Trouble, Indeed. People from riften always causes trouble. It's like a hobby of them. He looked at the approaching guards and then at the two of them. Guards in heavy armor taking care of crimes, pathetic. The thane of riften's companion does not actually trust him. Smart of him. Never trust a man in a cloak, but lucky for them, he was a friend. He tossed a key to them and then pointed at a two story house. 
​

"Don't touch nor steal anything." He said. "I will take care of the guards. Now, move." He then approached the guards. 
​

"Have you seen two people running to this direction?" The guard asked. He pointed forward.
​

"Better move fast or they will escape." The guard nodded and ran towards the direction he pointed. He then went to the makeshift stable of his houses and tied the horse. He then used the other door and went inside the house. He approached the two people. He took of his hood revealing his face. They will surely recognize him.  The renegade general.
​

"Greetings" He simply said.
​

@Sir Jake @0stinato
​

 

[0stinato]

Kumiko's mind screeched the word, "Safety!" at the top of its imaginary lungs as he dragged Jekkel away. The house, the house. Which one? Which door did this infernal key fit? Which one had the guardian angel pointed to again? The biggest one? Given the size of his horse and his grandiose behaviour, he'd probably meant that one. Kumiko suddenly began running towards it, forgetting for a few seconds that Jekkel was with him. Poor guy was getting dragged hither and dither. His arm might come off. Kumiko hoped his arm wouldn't come off.


As they drew close, Kumiko's frantic ears hearing the rabble of guards filter off in some other direction, Kumiko wondered for a while at who the cloaked figure was. He'd used Kumiko's name, his first name. Called him "Lord Kumiko of Riften." Well, that was sort of wrong, but he couldn't exactly say so at the time. It was Thane Tora, thank you very much, saviour. Gods. Have some respect, eh. It wasn't unusual for Kumiko to be recognised - it'd happened a few times since he'd been here - but a lot of Nords saw all Khajiits as the same person. Didn't really take the time to differentiate one from another. Which, although incredibly insulting, was sort of good for Kumiko's anonymity, if he needed it. But being the only Khajiit Thane in Skyrim... it wasn't unusual his blue eyes would be recognised, or his fur patterns would be identified. Or maybe it was the way he smelled? Might be that. Rain, cologne and blood. Though sometimes he smelled like shit because he'd spent time splashing around in the Ratway.


That was a bad habit. He had to stop doing that. Tonilia always told him not to, but then he'd splash her and he'd get sent away. But Kumiko always said, if they were going to live in the Ragged Flagon - in the middle of a sewer - they had to accept the fact they might get piss in their hair. Besides, didn't take long to have a bath, did it?


"Oh, Gods, Jekkel, gimme the key!" he said excitedly. "Wh... you don't have the key?" then he remembered he had the key. "Shit. I have the key."


He held up his clenched fist in triumph before slotting the key into the lock of the house. Relieved to find it fitted, he opened the door a fraction and pulled Jekkel inside. They were safe. Safety. Security. Finally. He finally let go of Jekkel's arm before letting himself slide down the wall, only just realising how worn out his lungs were. His breathing was deep, his body was hot and his mouth was too dry to believe.



"We... did it. Sort of," he looked up at Jekkel with a weak smile. "I suppose saying sorry isn't enough... not to mention we need to get this bloody journal to that Argonian man... do you think we'll be recognised? Shit... I think we just need to get out the city to be honest. After we hand over the journal. And you can have all the gold reward if you want... I hardly deserve it."


And here he was, giving up gold. What was he? Moral? Kumiko had morals now? He wondered where and how he'd grown them. Very strange. Or maybe he was just being nice because he liked Jekkel. Had that lawbreakers' spirit about him. Kumiko liked it. Liked the taste of it.


He looked up as he heard someone else enter. They were right beside the front door so... they'd come in a different way. Kumiko stood, a little curious, and that curiosity only grew when the man in the cloak came over to them, removing both the hood and his helmet. So that's what he looked like. Kind of had hair like Farkas. Aw. Kumi still had to finish the letter to Farkas actually. He was glad their saviour had reminded him.


At the man's greeting, Kumiko gave a stupid wave and said, "Hello!"


@Sir Jake @Wickedkent

 

[AlbaGuBrath]

Sundas, 7:30 am, 29th of Evening Star, 4E 205


Saorat was up and ready at the stables just a short while after seven, having scarfed down some bread and cheese from her pack while gearing up to be out as quickly as possible. There was no question of her being awake now; her companion's unexpected entry had seen to that. Her ears burned with embarrassment at the memory. She hadn't slept well in the strange place, always expecting some sort of ambush, and had only just reached a deep sleep when suddenly something touched her arm. Apparently operated by springs, she somehow flew into the air and nearly clawed the intruder's face in the process as she readied for a fight. Fira had learned to always speak for a while before touching her friend's shoulder, and even then knew to keep her distance if it had been a particularly stressful time, but she was far away in Whiterun. Likewise, Saorat had learned to steady her nerves for the most part, but the continued stress of being a fugitive had taken a toll on her. Funny... She had been more at ease during the war.


She approached the stables quickly and prepared for the journey as efficiently as possible, hoping to negate that morning's debacle. What kind of a soldier was she, flying into a panic over such a trifle? She had to get it together, and quickly. She wished Ruadh and Fira were there, or any of her few trusted friends. They made her feel secure, knowing that they all had each other's back for better or worse and that she never had to wonder what they thinking. This last point was especially comforting to her, as it silenced, at least for the moment, the malicious whisper in her mind that she was constantly being watched and found wanting. She knew it wasn't true, of course, but still impulsively strove for absolute perfection. It was difficult now that she no longer had a veil of anonymity behind the other soldiers to hide her inevitable blunders.


Fortunately, she had developed a knock for riding and was able to load and mount the horse easily and gracefully, increasing her confidence slightly for the morning. It was a far cry from her first attempt four years ago, when she had to fake getting acquainted with the horse to observe someone else before figuring out how to get up, and even then nearly falling over the side and having to clutch at the poor beast's mane for dear life. If nothing else, that was an improvement. In one way, at least, she was stronger now than before. She was certainly physically stronger and had learned some manner of discipline and order in the strict hierarchy, as well as moving past the instinctual racial suspicion of her youth. If she lived long enough, she hoped to become stronger than she was now. These four years had already begun the process of slowly strangling the black beast, so it was surely only a matter of time before she would be free of it. One day, she would kill that hateful whisper for good...


When Ologor began to speak, Saorat steeled herself for a stern reprimand, but it didn't come. Surprise mingled with relief and gratitude, followed by confusion when he asked which way they should go. She knew that their commanders often consulted with others before making decisions, but never with the common soldier, and often didn't appreciate it when one of them offered their opinion anyway. Saorat had learned that the hard way. More than once, in fact. Unfortunately, her stubborn streak was one foe she hadn't yet entirely defeated. Her impulsiveness was another, a very problematic combination. With that in mind, she spoke hesitantly, silently arguing against her fear of a trap. "Well, sir... I suppose it would depend on whether one lay on the way to the other, or if there were any dangers in a specific direction..." That's no answer! Take a stand on something, don't skirt around the question!


She took a breath and coughed a little before continuing. "I was thinking... If there's a helm of legend in the Barrow, something belonging to a great and ancient warrior, then it may be a fitting symbol of Skyrim's cause. If we could get it, perhaps then the people of Kynesgrove would be more willing to join us." A note of excitement entered her voice and her eyes shone. "Maybe... Maybe we could even bring it to Ulfric! An artifact of legend, fit for a great king! It could inspire all of Skyrim, unite her people and remind them of who they have been and still can be. It could make stories become fact and people this land with heroes. A symbol, an image... It might make all the difference, perhaps even enough to win this before the next winter..."


@MorgathosTheRussian