"That sword cost more than all the weapons in Tameriel, it is twenty five thousand septims, infact, siire you have my permission, to have the blade for yourself and i will not take no as an answer take it, and i will join your cause." Kiba insisted

Dralith couldn't hide his frown nor his skepticism on the matter. Dunmer held their ancestors in the highest regard and he felt that she would be doing her ancestors a great insult if she herself would not wield the sword. "You're so quick to give away what is yours by right." He patted the hilts of his Akaviri Katanas. "And besides, you are more lacking in the equipment department than i." They all were. Battered, tired, some wounded, but all of them ill equipped. "This simply will not do. You cannot expect to face our enemy such as this. Come, we will tend to your wounds, fill your bellies, and refit with better equipment." With that he turned for the stairs, one hand resting on the hilt of a katana.

Henry nodded, though that was more to himself than to anyone else. He figured that this Blade could not get him in a worse situation than the bard had gotten himself in hundred times, including now. And also, this was his best chance to leave this place unpunished for a crime he did not do. Though, his injured leg could be counted as a punishment. He nodded again, this time with approval in his eyes.

"Alright. Though, I want to get back my hat and my lute from those guards" - he told the Blade and smiled mysteriously - "Oh, and if I'm to fight something I will need to get my spear back. Otherwise, I'm not much of a fight to a Daedra. " Henry then thought for a moment and quickly added "Unless they are afraid of singing Imperials. I could sing them to death, for sure."

As Henry finished his speech, the Blade started ascending the steps and invited everyone to follow him. Since Henry had nothing better to do, he started following him, limping with every step.

Daric thought for a moment. The daedra were nothing more than a child's story, told to keep naughty children from keeping awake in case 'the mad god' came and stole them from their parents. This man could possibly be some sort of swindler, trying to get the group to lead them to valuables only to kill them once they retrieved them and take the valuables for himself. But he did wear the blade armour, an armour only told about by blade masters and travelling bards who exaggerated their feats a bit. Daric considered his choices, possible death versus definite death. He sighed, rising from his chair and speaking up.
"If you can get my armour and sword from the guards then I'll be more than happy to join"

"Very well, i cannot deny my legacy, blade." she said as she followed dralith

Brogan just sighed deeply. He didn't want to join the Blades, because he wouldn't be independent anymore, but dying here would be a shame as well. He thought that somehow he might be able to get away from the group at some point in this, so he decided to stand up as well and nod. "I'll be going with you as well." with a smile on his face. "And so, if I'm guessing right, you will provide a lot of equipment for us? What about herbs and insects or anything that is involved in alchemy?"

Karnog was happy, things weren't going his way for awhile. Now he is going to go on some "Big Quest" and save the day, yeah...right. But since the dunmer mentioned food and drink, then equipment...well, Karnog isn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Looking at the dunmer, Karnog said "Give me some Orichalcum, time, and a little ale and I will craft a weapon better than what you can give me."

Being an ork, Karnog was a natural at forging and its been months since he was able to do so. In all truth, if Malacath hadn't chosen him as his rage, Karnog would have been the strongholds forge master.

Dralith continued his ascent out of the Bloodworks, looking over his shoulder to regard Karnog. "In time, for now you'll have to do with purchasing from the smiths here in the city." Once out of the Bloodworks and all were assembled, he produced a sack of coins from a pouch on his belt and held it in an outstretched hand towards the group. "There should be enough Septims here for all of you to upgrade your weaponry and acquire some decent clothing and armor. Take to the shops and once you're ready, meet me at the Merchants Inn in the market district." On that he turned on his heel and began walking towards the Market but stopped short after a few steps and raised a finger back at them. "Oh.. and if you think this is your opportunity to run.. you won't get far in those prison rags. If any guard gives you trouble, tell them to bring you to the Hero of Kvatch at the Merchants Inn. We'll sort any trouble out there." On his last word he turned and made his way for the Inn. He'd told them who we was now and it was up to them to decide what to do with that information, if they'd heard of him anyway.

She watched the Dark Elf make for the inn, she sighed softly.

"Right well, just a suggestion but, maybe we should get some cloths first, preferable with hoods, because, this is just a hunch, but I think we might be wanted dead, not just by the guards."

Henry just looked to the pouch that the Dark Elf has left and looked at it for a moment. Then he looked the Dark Elf, who was going away from the group. He turned his gaze on to the pouch again. He then nodded to himself.

"Aye, Hero of Kvatch. Well, I'm content with that. I've just been saved by a hero of our time. Don't know 'bout you people, but it's my profession to follow the likes of him." Henry said and slowly went to the money pouch. He took some septims, not too much and not too less for what he was planning to do, while listening to the remark about their appearance from the Orc woman.

"You can take off the prisoner rags here, no one has orders to look for a naked Orsimer, you know" Henry said and smiled mysteriously, then started chuckling and pointed to the other male Orsimer of their group before continuing. "I'm sure the big guy wouldn't mind either."

"Well im gonna buy enchanted elven armor and sword, i will pick my family equipment later on." Kiba said pleased

Thinking about what the dunmer had said, Karnog just decided to roll with it. When the time came, he could sell the dwarven great sword for a pretty septim. While he was taking his amount of coin, just enough to get some armor and some decent clothes, he had heard what the bard had said.

Looking at the bard, Karnog said "Watch it bard, you may be crazy but no one wants the ire of women. Especially orcish women." As Karnog walked back to the bench, he decided to try and take a quick power nap.

She heard the bard and chuckled

"Well, to your dismay, I'm keeping these rags on, until I can find something decent"

She leaned down and took a few septims from the pouch.

The bard smiled back to the both Orsimers and then he got some seriousness in his face. Henry looked around and sighed. What he had in mind was more than just buy things, he needed to get back things. Septims might be of use, but they won't fully solve the problem. He quickly thought about everything for a moment. After the fight in the Feed Bag inn in the Market District, the guards took the bard with nothing but his clothes and hat on to the imperial prison. "Tough luck getting that back." Henry thought. He did not want to give up the hat, because it is hard getting a hat of good quality in such a small amount of time. His lute and spear, along with other items he had, was probably claimed by the innkeeper, as he left them in a room of the Innkeeper where he was allowed to put all his belongings for safekeeping, so those should be easier to get back. So much for safekeeping.

"Well, so much to do, so little time, goodbye, dear comrades" Henry bowed. "I hope to see y'all in the Merchant's Inn."

With these words Henry started slowly limping towards the entrance of the Arboretum, planning to go the Temple District from there. His leg was still quite injured, but he had something in mind for it.

Katrina took a deep breath as she stepped out of the Bloodworks. It had been a while since the last time the air felt so fresh. She heard the dunmer speak and glanced at him. He produced the sack of septims and offered it to the prisoners. She reached over from behind the group and collected her share. After he instructed the group of where to meet him, he left in the direction of the Market District. Katrina waited, watching him walk away. Once he was out of sight, she followed. She planned to visit the armor shops, hoping to find something more decent than the rags she tore up.

When she entered the district, the Blade was nowhere to be seen. She walked down the street, ignoring the glances of the crowd. Some time later, she was sitting on a crate, resting. She was leaning down, adjusting her new boots. She had visited multiple shops to obtain herself some proper equipment. She was wearing leather boots, leather greaves, and a chainmail cuirass. To cover up the somewhat revealing cuirass, she wore a tunic over it. Following the orc's advice that she overheard, she made sure it came with a hood.
She also bought a steel bracer, planning to use it as an alternative to shields. It was easier to deflect a sword with a lightweight steel bracer, rather than a heavy, clumsy shield. The final thing she made sure to do, was to repair her silver sword.

She stood up. As far as she knew, she was ready. She headed down the street, hoping to find the others.

Waking up from his power nap, Karnog left the bloodworks, telling the others that he will be at the local blacksmith. Still in his rags he got many a strange look, but with his intimidating looks nobody questioned. Walking up to the market he decided he needed some armor. Walking up to the blacksmith Karnog tried to get some ores to make an actual weapon and surprisingly the forge master went along with it, something about orcs in the legion. Selling the dwarven greatsword on top of the septims gained from the dunmer, Karnog was able to get a decent set of Iron armor which consisted of a banded iron chest plate, gauntlets, leggings, boots, and a simple set of pants and a shirt. On top of that, Karnog was able to get the resources to make what he really wanted, an orcish battleaxe. A specialty of his.

With no time to spare, Karnog quickly began to heating up the orichalcum and iron. With his expertise this will only take a couple hours. So Karnog buckled down and got to work, he didn't know when the dunmer expected him to arrive so he tried to go as fast as he could without affecting the quality of the weapon.

Brogan was tired after the fight, even if they've got a little bit of time to rest, but he will need much more time to recover. As everybody were already moving, Brogan has been struggling standing up. His back was still scarred, even after the healing that he has received. That fire attack that the young Breton used was enormous and strong and he wondered where she got such powers. She couldn't have that much experience at such an age, he thought, and which is why he was impressed. He was impressed by every single other person here in the room, as all of them were extremely powerful.

"Daedra? What good will my poison do, against Daedra?" he thought to himself in disbelief. He started to doubt the intentions of the Dunmer. Yes, they have won against the gladiators, but... some of us didn't do much during this fight, only got in the way of the others. Of course, Brogan did indeed kill one Gladiator, but only because he fell right in front of him. Everything else was done by the others. He shook his head, trying not to think too hard about this, for the Dark Elf has saved their lives just now.

After struggling a little bit with the pain in his back, he managed to stand up and he started limping outside. The dark elf has introduced himself as Hero of Kvatch. Indeed, he now understood why his face looked familiar. He indeed was the Hero he has seen. While he didn't interact him at all, Brogan has seen him from time to time, in one place or the other. The Hero has given all of us quite a few septims to get our gear ready, so Brogan took just a few septims, for he knew what he was about to buy. He started walking north, to the market district, to the Rindir's Staff shop, for he knew Rindir himself.

People around in the city looked at Brogan with disgust. Maybe because his life was spared in the fight, or maybe because of how filthy he looked like. The top of the rags had burned, so the top of his body was naked, and the horrid scars on his back was for everyone to see. He really hoped that no-one would decide to knock him out or try to use this time when he's really weak. Fortunately, no such thing happened and he managed to reach the shop physically unharmed, even though psychologically it was a little difficult.

"You're in Rindir's Staffs. And I'm Rindir. I sell magical staffs. Imagine that." Rindir told Brogan as he entered. "No need Rindir. You know what I came here for, don't you?" Rindir looked at the poor state that Brogan was, smiled and went to bring him the red colored clothes that he always loved. After Rindir had brought him his clothes, he threw down a few septims for them. "You won't be staying for a bit?" Rindir asked. "No, sorry. For there's a lot that I have to do right now. Maybe some other time." Brogan smiled as he exited the shop.

He did not care at all that he was told to go to the Inn after he has done all he wants, so after getting back to the street he started moving towards the opposite side of city, to the gates. It took him quite a bit of time to reach them, but as he reached them, he got used to the pain a little bit and he was able to move a little swifter. Brogan got outside of the city and slowly went to the river that was surrounding the city. He reached the river, and there he took off his ruined rags and placed his newly bought robes besides as he was getting into this cool water. As the water reached up to his back, he stopped and very swiftly got underwater. It hurt him for a bit, but the water was now relaxing him. The first thing that he did was wash his dirty hair off, for he hated that his hair were filthy like this. He was sad for he didn't have anything prepared, to help him wash his hair, but he had to do with what he had to do. He stayed in a water for a long time and he wasn't planning on getting out any time soon.

Daric took his share of the money and began to draw up a plan in his mental image. The guards usually held evidence and whatnot for a few days after the crime was committed to make sure it could be reused if new evidence for releasing the prisoner was presented. Daric counted the money, it was a fair amount, definitely enough to be used as a bribe. And, he knew just the man to bribe.

Daric had done a few jobs for just about every member of the city watch in his years of witch hunting. Mostly the rookies who were tasked with the dangerous task in order for the corrupt guard leader at the time to cut costs and add to his wages by stealing whatever money was left and just say they were recruiting a new member. A young Nord, Bjen had asked Daric to hunt practically every witch he was tasked with killing. It was fair to say that Bjen wasn't the bravest of men. He was however, eternally grateful to Daric after Daric agreed to do practically every job for him at a reduced cost. Daric done this because of all the equipment he could find within the witches lairs that he could sell for a much higher price than what Bjen could pay him. Along with feeling kind of sorry for Bjen, he always seemed so determined to be a hero, but was too cowardly to make any real difference.

Daric made his way to the northern guards tower to wait for Bjen to arrive. Bjen's shift ended an hour or so after Daric had arrived and was about to walk into the tower when Daric stopped him.
"Bjen, I need a favour" He started, Bjen's face was in a fixed shape of shock. The last time he had seen him was when Daric was in chains and being marched through the city to the arena.
"D-Daric, I thought you were in the arena?" He stopped for a moment before unsheathing his blade, Daric assured him that he was not a fugitive on the run.
"An Elf released us, he looked like a Blade, I'm a free man now Bjen, but I need a favour." Bjen sheathed his weapon again before motioning for Daric to walk with them. They began to walk along the walls of the city, making sure that no one was around before commencing and ending.
"Bjen, when I was arrested the guards took my armour along with my weapons, I need them back."
"What do you propose we do?"
"There are two options, you either steal my equipment from the evidence chest, or you open the sewer gate and let me sneak in through the sewers. I'd recommend the second option, there is less chance of you being caught that way." Bjern stopped walking and paused. He began to think about both options. It was true that Daric was a lot better and sneaking and Bjern would most likely be caught if he tried to retrieve the armour, but was it really right to be doing this? Letting someone steal from an order he worked so hard for to get in? But then again, Daric had helped him quite a lot in his initiation stage and had killed every witch for him, saving his life numerous times. He sighed, deciding that it was his duty to help Daric.
"Fine I'll help, but you need to agree not to kill any guards down there, I know a lot of them. I'll open the sewer gate at sunset, be there sharp so I can lock it after you" Daric nodded before shaking Bjern's hand and going to purchase whatever equipment he could buy with the amount of money he now owned.

He arrived at the gate at sunset just as he was asked, he wore black light armour and carried a blackjack like weapon. It was all fairly inexpensive and he still had a few gold septims left. Bjern nodded to him before opening the door and locking it as Daric entered in. Daric made his way through the dark tunnels slowly, avoiding whatever guards were patrolling the dingy corridors and sticking to the shadows.

As he reached the exit into the cells though, he was spotted. He made the foolish mistake of putting out a torch just as a guard turned the corner and looked his way, the guard sprinted towards him, unsheathing his sword just as he reached Daric. Daric acted swiftly, halfway through the unsheathing Daric kicked the guards hand and sent the sword back into the sheath. He whipped the blackjack from his belt and sent it into the guards jaw before sending a punch to the guards stomach. The guard was winded, now was the chance to strike. He elbowed the guard to the floor before beating him with the blackjack until he was unconscious. This was now a problem. This guard would wake up later and make the correlation that it was the same man who stole the armour. He would link this to Daric and Daric would be a wanted man again. Daric would have to steal a small bit more to make sure no one knew it was him.

He made his way through the door into the cells before stopping suddenly. A guard was taunting an Elf behind the bars. He waited for a few moments until the guard left before entering the main cell area. The Elf noticed Daric and began his taunting.
"Pale skin, snotty expression. You're a Breton! The masters of magicka, right? Hmph. Nothing but a bunch of stuck-up snobs with cheap parlor tricks. Why don't you just magic yourself into a pile of dung, it's all you are after all." Daric ignored the prisoner and left through the door at the top of the stairs next to the Elf's cell. He was soon in the opening area to the cells, the place where they kept the evidence. There was one problem, a guard behind a desk sitting and reading a book. Daric knew what to do. He readied a spell of Dire Enervation and sent it at the guard as soon as he was an open target. All Daric had to do was wait a few minutes now and the guard would be too fatigues to even stay awake. After the guard was asleep, Daric pickpockted the key from him and opened the evidence chest. He was happy to get his armour and sword back. He also took a few health potions and a bloodied battleaxe to cover his tracks. He walked out of the prison as casually as any visitor would. His plan had went perfectly.

He equipped his armour as soon as he had found a quiet spot. He was glad to have the black and gold armour back along with his shortsword. He sold off tthe potions and the axe to a few separate vendors and began to make his way to the merchants inn as the Elf had told him to. He sat at the bar when he entered the inn and awaited the others.

Kiba would go to a Contact in the Imperial Elven Gardens name Eathia, she would request Elven armor and A Ebony sword to be delivered to the Feed Bag in 1 hour.

When Henry entered the Arboretum he saw some people there, what was to be expected during daytime. After the fight, Henry's rags were dirty and torn, so he probably reminded everyone a homeless person, rather than an escaped prisoner. Henry also tried to look like a beggar - he tried to seem sad, did not look anybody in the eyes. That proved to be a good tactic, because nobody gave him a second glance, so Henry easily crossed the Arboretum, while being gazed upon by the statues of the Gods. The bard entered the Temple District soon enough.

With his injured leg, he started going towards the Temple of the One. He entered it, along with at least a couple of other people. Henry found what he came here for - Tandilwe, the priest of the Temple was here, as she usually was. Henry limped toward her, still trying to act like a beggar. He stopped so he would be in sight of Tandilwe, and then carefully knelt, trying to make an impression that it was very painful, thought the reality was not far from that. He then started mumbling as if praying.

“God! What happened to you? Poor soul!” Henry heard behind him and smiled inside.
“Excuse me, kind lady. I was pushed from stairs by a big fella’ this night. Injured my leg, but I’m alive, so I came to thank the Gods for my life.” Henry said, while still kneeling and facing the shrine, trying to sound like a homeless person with all his acting ability. Tandilwe actually fell for that and not three minutes after she suggested that she could heal Henry’s leg, as she knew Restoration. Henry accepted as humbly as he could. The healing process was not long, as his leg was not hurt too much and Tandilwe really knew Restoration magic well. After she healed the injury, Henry stretched his hand with a septim in it, while shaking it, so it would seem that he was deeply thankful. Well, technically the bard WAS deeply thankful, but he would never do things like that if he was himself. Tandilwe tried to refuse the septim, but Henry put it in her hand, and went towards the exit, while thanking her three more times.

When he left the Temple, he walked towards the Green Emperor’s Way, then through it, and into the Market District, where Henry walked straight before turning right to the alley where the Feed Bag was. Henry quickly entered. The tavern was empty, so no one will notice him, Henry thanked the Gods for that. The owner of the inn, or as most people refer to it “a bar”, greeted me “Put on the feed bag! We’ve lots of… Oh It’s You.“

“Aye, Delos, it’s me. And I’ve come to take back my possessions. They’re upstairs I believe?” – he nodded slowly, though there was some hesitation in the nod.
“You were to die. The guards told me so. If you’re an escaped prisoner, I want no business with you.”
“Just give me back my lute, let me take any of my clothes, my spear and let me wash away the dirt. I’ll pay you for it. I’ll leave all my other belongings to you.” – Henry told him as he started to go towards the stairs. However, Delos made no move, so the bard added a “Please?”.
The innkeeper hesitantly led Henry upstairs and waved to go in. Henry saw from the first moment, why Delos was so hesitant. All his lute strings were broken, but two of them. Its surface seemed somewhat scratched and a painted ornament was rubbed off. All of his bag was unloaded and ransacked, so Delos was obviously looking if Henry had any valuable belongings. There was no need to try and hope to find some spare coins in there for the bard then.

“They tried to destroy your instrument. They said it was a demon’s lute..” – the innkeeper started apologizing, so Henry lifted his hand as to say “Enough”. He quickly found things he looked for in (or around) his travel bag. The bard took some clothes from it and spare lute strings he had, washed his face with water from a bucket, put on the found clothes, took his spear and then looked at the lute. He packed it carefully and said to the inkeep’ “Next time, when a bard plays in this hole of yours, please, try and calm your visitors, when a bunch of drunken idiots try to kill the musician. Or at least speak up for him, when the guards are taking him away.” Henry started going towards the stairs, but stopped and added “Or if you are incapable of all this, at least try to look after his belongings until he is back.” Henry smiled with a most artificial smile possible, before descending the steps. He then put half of the septims he had, making it 10, one the table and left the Feed Bag.

While outside, Henry sighed. He will need to fix his lute sometime later, but the bard still had one job he needed to do – he needed to get back his hat from the Imperial Prison evidence chest. He started slowly going towards the Prison District of the Imperial city, thinking of a way to get it back.