Elder Scrolls: The Great War //Chapter 1

[Salokin]

The docks of Anvil of had a slight chill to them that morning as Salvus hauled a sack of grain from a boat that had just arrived the night before. He had taken a job to help unload the ship for a few gold pieces and a sack of grain. His mother made decent money as a seamstress and himself as a herbalist, but he took whatever odd jobs he could manage to come across. Hearing the a bell ringing, the man looked over towards the lighthouse, past it to see a faint silhouette of an approaching ship. Personally it seemed abit strange for a ship to be arriving so early in the morning, but when ships came and went never seemed to end around this city.

Though just before he turned away, he faintly noticed another ship next to the first, which wouldn’t have stopped him, if he hadn’t seen another after that. “What the?” Second by second, another ship seemed to appear on the coast line, until finally there were about ten ships in total on the horizon. Salvus just dropped the sack of grain, before narrowing his eyes and turning to run back to the gates. It was nothing but a gut feeling, but it was enough to make him storm back. Though it wasn’t the moment after he reached the gates, that a fireball struck the stone walls. Salvus stood there for a moment, looking at the scolding black mark left on the stone, before he turned to continue running into the city. They were under attack.

Reaching his house once more, a small shack by the edge of the wall, Salvus rushed into his home to find his mother there. “You have to leave.” He said simply as he rushed to his small room, grabbing his sword belt and throwing it on, and sheathed his dagger into the belt across his chest. “I don’t have time to explain mother, just please listen to me and leave now.” With that said, he gathered up his personal viles of poisons and potions, slipping them into a couple of pouches and pockets on his belts.

“Salvus..” his mother said as he stood up, forcing him to look over. She seemed like she was going to ask something else for a moment, before she just nodded and gave Salvus a hug. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you won’t run. Our ancestors have always been to stubborn to turn away. Just promise you’ll get back to me, I’ll be taking Star and go to the imperial city.” Salvus just nodded once, before kissing his mothers forhead, before turning to leave the home.

By that time, the city guards were already at the docks as well, and many members of the mages guild were standing on the walls, sending fireballs after the coming ships, none of which were effective as Thalmor agents aboard the ships had erected powerful wards to keep the fireballs from being effective.

Though not even making it to the docks, Salvus looked up at the walls as he saw a number of elves climbing up over ladders as well. Debating it for a moment, he just sighed before turning to the stairs leading up to the walls. He knew he didn’t have much of a chance against them by himself, but also knew what would happen if those soliders got behind the city guards they’d be slaughtered. Just as he made it up the steps, he stopped when he saw at least ten soliders looking him down, and the dark elf quickly drew both his sword and dagger.

“Pitiful Dunmer, do you really think you stand a chance against the likes of the Altimer?” One asked, as they all drew their swords except for two, who had sparks of electricity sparking along their fingers. Truth was, he really didn’t, but he just had to hope someone noticed and came to cut these men off.

At that time, the first two ships finally hit the docks, as the front of the ship came down to release the boarding plank. Once it hit the ground, plenty of soliders came running off the ship with their weapons brandished high and ready to strike.The battle for Anvil, had began.

[Red Beret]

Kael was fixing to relieve an unsuspecting shopkeeper of his coin purse when the first guard ran by. He quickly sidestepped the man, and thankfully went unnoticed--there must have been something incredibly important going on... the man looked like he was charging into battle or something. Both Kael and the still-unsuspecting shopkeeper watched the guard disappear in the direction of the docks.

"What was that about?"

"I dunno," Kael offered by way of explanation, shrugging and moving on. He didn't want to be around when he noticed that his coin purse was missing... Kael had chosen to relieve him of it anyway, while he was still wondering about the guards. He hadn't gotten far when he heard the sound of more men running his way. He turned, sure that he'd been figured out, but the guards ran right past him, followed closely by mages from the local Guild. His interest was officially piqued...

What am I doing... Kael thought as he ran after them. They were headed to the docks, and that's when Kael saw the first fireball arch over the wall. His ward was strong enough to deflect it, but just barely. He was knocked back as the fireball exploded against the magical shield, and the ward dissipated without his concentration. He leapt to his feet again and considered running... but he'd always been a curious sort.

He made his way down to the docks and remained close to the base wall. Whoever was flinging spells was aiming for the guards and mages on the ramparts, and he didn't want any part of that at the moment. Somebody ran past him, checking his shoulder and almost knocking him down. He turned and saw a Dunmer fleeing the area... what could be so bad as to make a dark elf run away? It couldn't be good.

That's when he saw the soldiers and the Thalmor agents and decided that the elf might have had the right idea. He fled, taking the stairs leading up the walls, unknowingly following the Dunmer he'd run into earlier... until he saw him standing, sword drawn, facing another group of soldiers. He saw the electricty run over the tips of the mages' fingers, and knew what was about to happen... he pushed past the Dunmer and raised his ward, just as the mages let their sparks fly. With his left hand focusing the ward, he drew his broadsword with the right.

"Go! We can't fight here, and I can't keep this up for long!"

[Kangaroo]

The stag had been easier to track then most, it had been careless and running free as the lack of other life in the area had removed it's caution. The arrow, launched from his elven warbow had plunged easily through the stag's ribcage and pierced it's heart. That had been his biggest catch of the evening, but it also gave the man everything he could carry back to Anvil, the nearest town. The man, sitting back at his camp with no fire or presence easily blended into the shadows as he separated the valuable objects from the less so. He took everything that he could sell, meat, hide, horns; they would help him pay for some new arrows and getting the heads resharpened.

He was capable of making his own but he lacked the materials to make proper barbed or bodkin arrows, he only had a select few of them left since he'd come across that bandit camp. The warbow, a weapon of considerable power and size had been darkened from the gaudy gold used by elves to a more night friendly dark brown and it was a fearsome weapon in the right hands. His body was lithe and contained a whipcord strength that belied his small stature and light physique. A sheathed sword lay perched against a tree trunk, it was a weapon hardly used yet always sharp; a preparation against any circumstance of close combat. Everything about this man screamed a survivor, a man of the wild but if a person was stupid enough not to recognize that, they would instantly know he was a traveled man from his clothing.

The mottled grey, brown and green cloak was a swirling mass of ordered colours, expertly made to easily drop into the background and was fur lined on the inside to insulate and keep the body warm. The armour, again tailor made was expertly sown and crafted, the leather and fur was combined again to create an armour warm enough to survive the harshest winters, strong enough the serve as armour yet still leaving him able to move freely and easily. The man's eyes were what struck most people, not because of their brightness or contrast but more the seeming lack of anything in his eyes, they were a dark grey, they almost appeared devoid of life and emotion.

He finished loading up the meats, furs and otherwise of his catch of rabbits, foxes, a wolf and a stag ready for the trip back to Anvil, there was a blacksmith who had been all too eager for business and a shopkeeper who had seemed desperate for some fresh catch. He wandered down the dark and abandoned roads, he was hard to see in the shadows but he couldn't move at his usual pace or through the wilds due to the load he was carrying, it would slow him down and make traversing the forests difficult. It was a dark and lonely night, the moon was ducking it's head behind a smattering of clouds like a nervous child.

He drew closer to the town and he immediatly saw that something was wrong, the guards who had been perched in the watchtower, easily visible from the flames burning in there had disappeared and even at this range he could hear the distinct sounds of fighting and possibly even magic. The front gate had been left open in their rush to the fight, it would be a cause for some concern for the watch commander should he find out. He placed his catch down on the inside of the door and closed the gates with a soft thud, flicking the lockbar over to stop anyone gaining access from this side of the city, should they be the same people attacking. Rolling his shoulder to loosen them after carrying the load he grabbed his warbow, his quiver and the hunting knife he'd been using to skin the animals; anything would be useful now.

He slipped through the city towards the scene of the battle, intending to get a glimpse of what was happening, to determine who was attacking the city. It was most likely not bandits and if it was the Thalmor, the only force really capable of attacking the Empire, and the source of Heinrich's feud and eventual departure from the Blades then significant action would be required. He saw fireballs and lightning being tossed around, flashing against wards as they illuminated the groups of combatants. There was the distinct revelation of the attacker's skin colour and uniforms, the golden skin and black robes identified their attacker. The Thalmor had come.

A guard ran panicked by him, his eyes wide as he saw the sheer power of the bow and the speed of the user, when two arrows released in quick succession after the man's pursuers, slamming into their throats causing the elves to fall to the ground clutching them as their lifeblood drained away. "You have my thanks traveler. But I'm not stopping, I'm getting out of here. We can't hold the Thalmor off!" The desperation and panic in his voice was evident for all, he stunk of fear and incompetence but the man was a guard and he had his duty.

The man's reply was slow, measured and deliberate, it the kind that made a man sit up and pay attention as he addressed the guard "You have your duty man, stand up and remember that. You are here to protect the weak and defenseless who will be slaughtered if the Thalmor catch up to them. Get back into the fray and prove your worth and bring some honour to your family!" with a slight shove on the guard's shoulder sending him back to the melee. After a tumbling few steps the man drew his sword and ran back towards the conflict, seemingly confident of his abilities again. He turned his attention back to the felled Thalmor as he grabbed another quiver of arrows off the corspe, they were armour piercing arrows, designed to punch through any fighter's armour, the type that he'd been missing.

He drew nearer and nearer to the fight, searching for a place to set up to help clear the walls and eventually push the elves off the wall and give the guards time to set up a proper defence. Spying a nicely shaped rooftop with a good view of the walls and courtyard, he easily scaled the building, jumping from balustrade to window as he managed to reach the rooftop. Laying his own quiver down on the rooftop, he unslung his bow and from the shadows, notched an arrow and sent it zipping toward the small group on the wall who had been confronted by two men, one of who was holding a ward up. The arrow punched straight through a mage's chest he'd been preoccupied with casting the spell. a number of arrows followed the first, some hitting targets other hitting shields but giving the two men an extra chance to pull back or to attack the elves.

[TJByrum]

Vero was waking up inside the Flowing Bowl tavern. He had been here for the night to rest before heading off today. He stood up, stretched, and sighed. He began putting on his leather armor, and while putting on his boots he heard lots of running footsteps. A Redguard man ran past him room, but stopped and backed up, looking at Vero.

"Nord, you look fit for battle, care to come with us?" The Redguard had a clean-shaven face, but some long hair. He had leather armor on, like Vero, but carried a bow in one hand and had a sheathed curved sword on his side.

"Something wrong?" Vero stood up and picked up the Scaled-Shield.

"City's being attacked by damn elves and I don't think the guards can hold it alone, they'll need some relief. If you're worthy and ready, come on." Without hesitation the Redguard ran down the hall with Vero following closely behind.

Outside was a Breton mage, an Imperial soldier, and several militia-like men. "Come on men, this way." The Redguard turned and began running to the docks, Vero following them.

The city was indeed being attacked, and the guard's clearly needed some relief. The militia charged into the heat of battle, but Vero climbed up the walls to survey the battle.

On the walls, he blocked a fireball headed his way and charged forward. The elf drew a short-sword and slashed at Vero. Vero deflected the blow, bashed the elf, and slammed his fist into his face before tossing him off the wall.

The battle was out of control; elves had stormed the walls, the docks, and it was growing to big to keep contained. Some guards were engaged with some elves on the wall that Vero was standing on. An idle guard, waiting to engage an elf, stood behind the small battle. "Guardsmen, you need to take some men and sound some sort of alarm for the city's people, begin evacuating them immediately, get them to safe-"

"I don't take orders from a poor beggar like yourself!" With that, the guard began fighting some Altmer.

Damn!, thought Vero, might as well keep them off the walls then. Vero crouched down on his knee and held his shield over his head, deflecting a light volley of arrows. He stood up and charged shield-first into the wall skirmish.

He bashed an elf who dropped his sword. The elf scrambled to pick it up but Vero kneed him in the face when he bent down to get it. Staggered and knocked senseless, the elf stayed down to regain his senses. Vero gave him no chance to get up as he slammed his shield down on the elf's abdomen, slicing him in two.

This little skirmished attracted the attention of other Altmer, who readily engaged Vero. He dodged a thrusting attack by one elf and kicked the elf's knee, shattering the bone inside. The other elves backed away and began casting fire at Vero. Vero was able to hold off the flames with his shield, but he stepped backwards to get help from the guards.

Shield in hand, allies at his side, Vero would not leave the city until it was safe once more.

[Vlexia]

“Cheater!”

The roughened and harsh baritone shout came from the male Orsimer that sat across the wooden table from Ragash. Being newly promoted from Warder to Guardian in the Fighter’s Guild, the large battle hardened female had to undergo a few iniations from the other Guardian’s. These various forms of tests included vast amounts of ale and numerous battles over the all-telling game of arm-wrestling. She had just demolished the older Orsimer, the one named Olgresh, almost splitting the table in half by the amount of force she had needed to use to beat him. But now she leaned back, giving him a taunting look from under her thick platinum brows, and causally folded her arms behind her head.

This casual response to his defeat had Olgresh roaring as he flipped the table over and was positioned to lunge for Ragash’s throat for an all-out battle of bodily strength. But he stopped, composed himself, and gave her a cheeky grin. “Aye, you’ll make some fine orklings one day.” Ragash growled at Olgresh, snapping her jaws at him in a display of her thick tusk-like teeth, but just before she was about to respond, a young lad rushed into the tavern and yelled to the Fighter’s for help.

“All warriors and fighters to the gates! Elves have breached the front walls!”
All joking was immediately gone, all playfulness evaporated as the men and women who wore the brand of the Fighter’s Guild proudly grabbed their various weapons and stalked towards the exit slowly. Ragash’s large hand grasped the thick and heavy wooden handle of her war hammer, a weapon that contained a solid head of steel at the end and covered in wrought iron spikes. Her armor was already on her, a display of her constant readiness for war or a fight. Following the others, she marched down the streets of Anvil that led towards the attacked wall, and when they rounded the corner, the sight of blood, sweat, and steel reaching her nose, the Orsimer female was lost in the battle rage of blood and thirst.

The fighters around her uttered a battle cry at the wall swarmed with the enemy and raced forward, eager to join the fight. An elven arrow struck down the male next to Ragash but she never slowed her pace. The pounding of her feet as she galloped forward seemed to reverberate the ground, and arched the Great War Hammer she possessed to her left, Ragash swung with immense strength to her right, crushing the skulls of four elves in her wake.

She screamed. It was a roar of fury as her black pupils blazed. It was times like these, the heat of battle where she felt more alive. Limbs were blown everywhere and the ground was slippery with blood, but her weight kept her grounded in the muddied ground as she pressed forward, swinging her hammer, crashing the heavy weapon across skulls and ribcages. She turned to her left to see where her allies were, and seeing them accomplishing their goal well enough to be left on their own, Ragash kept advancing forward slowly, destroying the smaller elves in her path. She felt cuts of blades strike across her bulking thighs and biceps, but her adrenaline was pumping too fast for the pain to slow her down.

[Esper]

Xatia had taken a seat in the corner of the Flowing Bowl Tavern. The city was being attacked, but she put no stock in the people of this city, nor the threat of the elves. She had been sipping at a goblet of wine for last fifteen minutes while making small talk with a rather strong looking mercenary. "Why aren't you out there earning your pay? Your sort thrive on chaos like this don't they?" The inquiry was a veiled insult. She detested mercenaries for personal reasons, but at least they served their purpose at times.

"Ah m'lady, I tell you the truth", the scruffy looking man began to say. "Once the guards have fallen and most of the able bodied are injured me and m'boys will earn a torrential downpour of profit as some of the last good blades in the city." He smiled at her, his teeth slightly yellowed, a result of long days on the road and too small a stock of chewing sticks. "I wouldn't worry too much over such trivial matters for now, but I were you I would buy some space on a ship right away."

Her eyebrow piqued at the statement the man had made. In truth, that had been her plan all along, but she had no intention of paying for said passage. She coin purse was veiled in illusion to appear to be empty and so few bothered casting their eyes in that direction, rather they were directed toward her chest. Since she had arrived in the city her choice of attire had drawn the ire of the local women and the attention of the males. "Perhaps you, a wealthy mercenary, could spare me the cost of passage? Rest assured I would gladly repay you in a manner befitting a man of your nature." She smiled at him, her full lips accented by the dull red lipstick that lightly coated them. He fished out a few coins and handed them to her, none the wiser he was under the effect of her charm spell. She ran her open palm across his rough face and moved to the exit the tavern. "May our paths cross again in favorable times for peace."

A few of the elves had made it inside the city. The female archer had spotted Xatia from the higher vantage point atop a roof and notched an arrow. The signature twang resonated in the relatively quiet area of town. It narrowly missed her by a few inches, which was too close for comfort considering the distance of the archer. The elven archer notched a second arrow and took aim. Xatia was ready this time. She picked the former arrow up and broke it into two pieces. The wood was sturdy and sharp. Twang, the second arrow flew through the air. Xatia forced the arrow into the ground, burying in the dirt. "My turn", the muttered as she launched the forward half of the arrow at the elf, burying it in the shoulder. It had gone part way through the thin leather scout armor. By the body language of the elf she knew she managed to bury it in the fleshy area right under the shoulder blade. She propelled the splintered section into the exposed area of flesh her would be attacker left exposed, With a fleshy thud the projectile lodged itself somewhere near the voice box.

Xatia wasted no time ascertaining whether the elf was dead or not. Killing left a sour taste in her mouth, but she did not tolerate unprovoked attacks either. She found her way toward the area where the fighting was heavy to a guard in the rear. "Hey, you're a guard right? There are scouts using the roofs to try and pick people off. I took one out for you guys, but I am sure there are more left to take care." She crossed her arms and pressed into the man's mind. Her charm was working quite well until a wounded soldier had accidently bumped into her target. He broke eye contact and with that the spell failed. "Like I said, scouts and roofs."

She turned her attention to the wounded soldier. "Point to where you're hit. I know a little healing magic. Not enough to fix you, but enough to keep you from bleeding out." The soldier loosened the breastplate on the side and Xatia slid her hand in. The warm blood flowed from the wound freely. She concentrated her energy on the wound and forced the blood into a clotted state. "You might want to get that cleaned, but for now you'll be fine." She stood and decided to hide herself from combat, looking for an open home that appeared to be well built.

A cry resonated from somewhere forward of her position that they had men down. "I can patch them up a little. Bring them back here", she shouted and hoped someone had heard her. She felt her magika deplete a little from the spell she had just cast, but far from the point it would deter her from using it freely. She spotted a knocked over stand and pulled some wood in front of it with her mind. It would cover her while she attempted to help some of the wounded, but if things got any worse she would have no qualm with retreating back to a safer distance.

[Kain Darktonian]

A black shape rose from over the limp body of a young Redguard woman. To many, she would have appeared dead. The cause: two small red holes in her neck. But Roderick knew better. He could hear her heart and smell her slowly pumping blood. She was not dead, merely in a deep sleep induced by powerful, and not entirely understood magics that coursed through his ice-cold veins.

Roderick watched with satisfaction as the holes slowly disappeared, fresh skin covering the wounds. Stupid cattle. A stray drop of blood flowed down his chin, almost reaching the precipice before he wiped it away. As he pulled the threadbare sheet over her naked body, he smiled as the the events from last night flashed through his mind.

He had come into the Flowing Bowl right as the sun was setting, sweet relief flooding his body as the accursed rays of the sun were blocked by the thatched roof. He sat down at one of the corner tables where the lantern light failed to reach. His bewitching eyes scanned the tavern, looking for something to sate his hunger for he hadn't feasted in several days. He had come from Skingrad and there was little to eat on the road these days.

He found a particularly delectable looking Redguard woman and decided to watch for a while. Dinner and a show. She proceeded to down several flagons of ale and harmlessly flirt with just about every sailor in the room. Roderick decided to intervene before her blood became saturated with the sickly stench of alcohol.

He rose from his table slowly and walked over across the room. He held himself in a way that demanded the looks of everyone in the room, and then frightened them so badly that they couldn't help but avert their glance.

"Miss," Roderick said chillingly, his voice laced with venomous charm. "These...cattle have little to offer you. Perhaps you might join me in my chambers for something more?"

"Um, sure. That sounds perfect," her voice taking a dreamlike tone.

From there it had been a simple matter to remove her clothes and set the stage for a wanton night of debauchery for her to discover upon waking. He placed her somewhat gently on the floor and then lay on the bed for some rest. He longed for the comfort and proximity of a coffin but he hadn't slept in one since Skingrad and had seen many stints of time without one in the past so he feel asleep to the woman's mumbling fairly easily.

He awoke when a single detestable ray of sun shone on his face. He grimaced but the delight of a good meal made him soon forget any discomfort. When he was done and the scene was set, Roderick rose to leave. As he approached the door it was flung open by a clean-shaven Redguard.

"Nord, we need help! There's a battle breaking out and we're gathering up some citizens to assist the guard."

A battle would be tiresome, but fighting means corpses and that always leads to some fun.

"After you," Roderick said coolly.

Once they were outside, Roderick saw that the "militia" that had gathered was actually a paltry few greenhorns, though one Nord in particular looked as if he'd seen his fair share of combat, though Roderick could see no armaments on his person other than a shield.

They all took off after the Redguard, leaving Roderick on his own. He followed with long, slow strides that would place him at the battle a minute or two after the initial clash.

When he arrived at the battle he saw a chaotic fight between a sea Thalmor warriors and the city's guard. Very few things surprised Roderick anymore after centuries of life, but the Thalmor's presence her did the trick. It was fleeting, however, and quickly turned his attention to the battle. There were bodies everywhere. Roderick approached a fallen Thalmor and, gesturing with his hands and rapidly muttering an incantation, drew upon his magical reserves to pour artificial life back into the body.

Pacing into the thick of battle behind his newly risen companion, Roderick raised his hands and prepared his magic. Icy clouds swirled around each hand. On his left he froze two Thalmor agents with a single icy blast. His own Thalmor raised its sword and shattered the elven ice sculptures with swift strikes. He turned just in time to see a Thalmor mage preparing to bathe him in flames. From his right hand flew a crystalline spear that impaled itself into a nearby wall, taking the mage with it.

He glanced back to see his Thalmor, thick in battle with its own race, riddled with arrows from Anvil bows. Roderick rolled his eyes with irritation. Stupid cattle.

Roderick paused for a moment to raise another corpse, this time a fallen city guard. While his brow was furrowed in concentration, he felt cold steel bite into his right calf. He hissed and spun with an inhuman speed to face the latest irritation.

He clutched the Thalmor warrior's face, shattering the elf's high cheekbones. The look of smug condescension fled from the warrior's face. Roderick howled and tore out the elf's throat. The theatrics were a tad unnecessary but Roderick's calf hurt and he hated elves. They tasted snobbish.

Blood now thickly coated Roderick's mouth. Any apathy towards the fight had now disappeared and a crimson grin spread on his pale face. He walked, quicker now, with his Anvil guard in tow, towards the wall where the fighting was fiercest. He would see this battle out to its end, bloodlust creating a perverted sense of loyalty to the town of Anvil.

[Salokin]

Between having the ward come up to spare him an electrical barbeque, Salvus looked over at the Breton to the side of him, simply nodding his thanks. Though even with that, he just narrowed his eyes. It wasn’t exactly an option for him to leave. Espically with more elves coming up the ladder, he simply couldn’t abandon this matter. Though it wasn’t until the arrows came flying, and he looked over to see the man down below and nodded to him, before turning back to the Altimer.

He didn’t care how this turned out, he wouldn’t let these invaders spill into his home, as he slipped around the Breten and charged in. Slipping under the first swing of a broadsword, Salvus slipped in scimitar up under the man’s arm in the weak point in his armor, before cutting into him, only to pull the blade back as it dripped with a mixture of red blood, and black liquid he kept stored in his sheath, a particularly lethal poison of his own design. Though the golden elf dropped, he wasn’t dead, though he certainly was going to wish as much as he was more or less going to suffocate to death with his poison locking up the basic functions of his lungs.

Twisting around to the side, he narrowly avoided a thrust from another sword, and ducked low to dodge a mace smashing against the stone wall to crack it. Jumping up quickly, he brought his hilt up, to smash it into the man’s face, and knocking his helmet off only to bring his dagger across to slit his throat clean. Grabbing the man’s wrist as he dropped his mace, the Salvus pushed into him, using him like a battering ram to push forward and knock the others aside. When he was at the ladders, it was just as more elves were coming up, just in time for Salvus to kick them over. Though it was the next moment that he pushed the body forward to get his way out, though as he was moving, the second mage sent a lighting bolt surging toward him, only to hit the Altimer’s dead body. Though the energy and force had been enough to send him flying backwards off the wall, and landing on the tiles of a lower rooftop.

Groaning abit to himself in pain, Salvus slowly opened his eyes to a ringing in his ears and his eyes hazing, to the realization of him sliding off the roof slowly. By the time his senses fully came around once more, he was scrambling to keep himself up only to grab the ledge of the building and swinging himself losing his grip to crash through a window, throwing his sword and dagger across the room.

Reaching up, he wiped the blood from his face, and brushed the glass shards from himself, just as a felt a fireball shake the house and had him jumping back to his feet. Picking up the weapons, he swung himself over the railing and rushed down the stairs, just in time to catch a man treating a wounded solider. “You…” The solider said simply. “Tell me boy, what’s happening now?”

Looking at the man, he didn’t seem like a solider in appearance, but he also had a bloodied sword held tight in his hand like he was being forced not to fight right there.

Salvus thought about it for a moment, “The city is still under attack, the Altimer have made it into the city. We’ll drive them out though.” He promised as he walked over to the man, though the solider stopped him.

“We cannot win.” The man admitted, before coughing up the blood, and reaching into his tunic, and took out a missive. “T..This must reach the Grandmaster.”

“Wh…” his words were cut off as the house shook once more. “What is this?” he asked as he reached out to take the missive. Though before he got his answer, the house shook a final time as the roof collapsed in on them, and Salvus ended up falling back as the wooden beams came down in a engrossing flame. Rolling to the side as another beam fell, the Dunmer ran over to the door before putting his shoulder down and forcing his way through, to see the battle had taken to the streets.

Chewing on his lips, Salvus looked around. This was bad, it was becoming evident that this city truly would be lost. Holding the missive in his hand, Salvus just took a breath, before slipped it into a pocket within his tunic and ran through the city. He’d save those he could, but in the end, he was going to be prepaired to run.

Getting off the boat, a High elf wearing a black robe, and a set of rings that made his hands look like claws, and a number of silver earrings in his ear, along with a piece of silver that came up and wrapped around his eye like it had been infused into his skin. Holding up his hand, a column of flames trailed along his arm, before, at a simply snap of his fingers, fire exploded all around him, sending both boats, homes, and men in flames. Though none of the Thalmor themselves seemed affected, many of them having small objects on them glowing, be it their rings, amulets, or belts, they all seemed protected by the fire. “Pitiful.” The man said simply.

[Kangaroo]

The battle had been failing slightly for their side, but the man still sent arrows zipping into the fray, the Thalmor still couldn't see him in the shadows and the fact that he kept moving from rooftop to rooftop wasn't helping the Thalmor find him. He saw what appeared to be a Dumner get launched, after being hit by a lightning bolt, towards the rooftops and land with a sickening crunch on the rooftop. The elf began sliding off the rooftop but he was too far away to be reached in time so the shadowy began continued loosing arrows into the fray, heading back towards the impacted rooftop.

An Altmer Mage caught sight of him and launched a arcing lightning bolt at him, cracking through the sky as he tossed it. Picking a single story rooftop, the man slipped down to that level and slid off the roof, just as it exploded behind him in a shower of debris. He felt a number of sharp stings across his uncovered face as he was pelted with tiyn stone fragments but he focus did not falter from breaking his fall on the ground. He landed on a soft bit of hay, taking most of the fall before he jumped to his feet again, checking his quiver. The elven quiver was almost empty, he'd loosed most of them at the Thalmor so he quickly transferred the remaining arrows to his other quiver and tossed it away, the gaudy colouring didn't suit his fighting style.

He found himself of the ground level when a huge, pulsating explosion of fire burst out. there had been a massive burst of magic by the looks of it. Something that no-one in Anvil could face down, a power that only the Blades could bring down. If the Thalmor were attacking, he'd be willing to return to the Blades, he'd been proven right and it wasn't to gloat but to save the Empire. When the flames died down enough to run out onto the street he saw the same Dumner on the street, with some kind of scroll in his hand. He then took off towards the edge of the city, obviously intending to get out of there before he too ended up a burning corpse.

He would follow out of the city soon enough but first he had to find out what caused that explosion, if it was a general or Archmage, the Empire would be best off knowing who to target. He quickly climbed a tower, his arrows found their targets of a lone Thalmor who'd been busy looting a corpse. When he reached the top of the tower he saw a man who had the bearing of power and who the men seemed to bend around. That man was their leader and his eyes quickly picked up the distinctive features; lots of jewelry, rings especially. Infused metal on face. After memorising those features he descended the tower, managing to avoid detection and headed out for the gate he'd come in. He'd take the pack of goods with him, some of it would be handy for escaping but he'd drop anything on the way in case he was followed.

After reaching the gate and finding it unbarred again, he grabbed his pack and swung it over his shoulders, escaping into the night.

[Red Beret]

"Damn it! Never try to reason with a Dunmer..."

Even if he'd wanted to, Kael couldn't follow the Mer--the Altmeri soldiers had reached them before they could flee, and he wasn't sure that the damn stubborn dark elf would've listened to him anyway. He did manage to take advantage of the dark elf's opening, though, and slipped down from the wall when he had the chance--it was being overrun by the enemy, an enemy that couldn't be reasoned with and that he'd only waste precious time and energy fighting.

It was such a shame that he had a sense of honor, he realized, as he looked around. The chaos would have been a good way to cover a looting spree... he may have been a thief, but he knew better than to attempt to steal anything during a disaster like this. His morals didn't make him a hero, though. The city was overrun, and there was nothing the guards could do without support from the Legion. It would be folly to attempt anything other than flight.

As he reached the gate, his mind wandered back to the Dunmer he'd tried to protect earlier. Was he still alive, or had he gone and gotten himself killed, and made Kael's small act of valor all for naught? On the other side of Anvil a large blast of fire lit up the sky... it was a very powerful spell, Kael could feel the intense heat, even from here. Anyone who'd been subjected to that was surely dead... he looked down at his hands and wondered if he should go help as much as he could.

His indecision held him there until the heard the sound of footsteps toward him. He ducked out of the way, into the shadows, and watched as an Imperial clad in leather and fur approached the gate. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, but shouldered the pack he carried and disappeared into the night. Kael looked back at the city and knew that he could do no more. He followed the Imperial through the gate, resolving to warn the next town he came to of the Altmeri attack. Maybe word would get to the Legion before they held all of Tamriel under their thumb...