Pirate Lord Ambrose Mackin
20th of Second Seed
Castle Wayrest, Grand Meeting Hall

“And you mean to tell me that the local fishermen say that they’re Bretons? What fucking business is it of mine, Bretons, Nords and Redguard have been pirates since before I took this fecking city.” Ambrose spat in disgust, feeling almost compelled to slap the goblet of wine off of the grand oak table in front of him. The strongest captains, or commodores as they had come to be distinguished, were arrayed before him like many times before and this was not the first time he’d called them in to make sure they kept their subordinate captains in line. The last thing any of them wanted was Northpoint or Daggerfall to strengthen their presence in the Iliac Bay; It was already hard enough to sneak out from the Bjoulsae River.

“You have to understand that any move made by any pirate in the Iliac reflects badly upon us. Now that they think that our Republic is making moves around Stros M’kai they’ll want answers, or even blood.” Commodore Hjalsten spoke up from the coin he was rolling over his knuckles.

“I can’t just keep hanging captains. I don’t know who is behind this or if they even belong to any of our fleets. They’re most likely rogues and will be dealt with accordingly. We’ll put a few vessels underway.” Ambrose frowned, standing up from his seat and waving off the Commodores.

“Mackin,” Ambrose turned to see Hjalsten, “don’t forget about the meeting, ye old seadog.”

Ambrose growled at his summoning, plus the prospect of seeing the others, “How could I? It’s such an exciting moment for me.”

“Still full of sarcasm after so much time as a ruler?” Hjalsten chuckled gruffly.

“What else am I to be in a world such as this? Elves seek to use us, our neighbors to kill us. We have no allies. My ship and my sarcasm are all I have left.” Ambrose said, disappearing into the hallway to his room to prepare for the voyage to the Isle of Balfiera.

Others of the bosmer informed me of their arrival and I nodded I told the bosmer to direct the imperials to the greatest concentrations of the altmer forces near the coast and to have the bosmer already nearby to prepare an ambush and support fire from the trees. they all nodded and went in all directions some bosmer were in the trees jumping and they whistled loudly to the imperials and they started to lead them by jumping in the direction of the altmer forces currently their were 4 forces where they were strongest near the coast lines. As they waited to see which direction the imperials would go

A mile out from Sentinel's Port
22th of Second Seed
Sun's Dawn 2nd, Morndas

Whenever Vanquisher Temijen looked around the deck of Samas Kul's floating seraglio, he had to suppress a sneer. He hated the lewd glided carvings, the companionways broad and easy to negotiate as any staircase on land, and every other detial where the shipwrights had forsaken spare, efficient utility in the favor of luxury and opulent display. To the aged redguards warrior sensibilities, the entire vessel irked him. But the ridiculous vessel had been chosen with comfort and awe in mind, not war. The ship rocked gently on the waves as the great sails easily took up the wind. The port of Sentinel had been abuzz with activity as Temijen's chosen vassal had departed. It had not taken him long to assemble an entourage to the Isle of Balfiera.

Of his trusted retainers, one of them was ever loyal Khasta, an old, trusted, friend and comrade when Temijen had served in the Imperial Legion. He stood on the main deck issuing orders at that moment. His massive dwarven steel forged crossbow on his back, his long braided black hair touching the weapons tiller. Khasta had been among the many redguards to abandon the legion when it became clear the Empire had abandoned their home land.

Most of the men on the ship, who were not sailors, were members of the Serpent Guard. Temijen's elite fighting force, a knight order he had funded and one who's fealty was owed directly to him. Their unwavering loyalty was matched only by their strength of arms, and Temijen could truthfully boast they were easily the greatest swordsmen in all of Tamriel. Almost all were veterans of the war for Hammerfell's independence when the Aldmeri Dominion had sought to take what was never theirs. Among them were the captain of his personal guard and the head of the order. Varnklith, a capable warrior and skilled leader to be sure, as well as being another personal friend to Temijen, the few men he could count on to always tell it as it was.

Temijen was glad for the voyage for it gave him time to contemplate resent events and matters. News had reached him just before setting sail that there was rumored pirate activity near Stros M'kai, and evidence that the pirates may have hailed from Wayrest. Such implications were troubling, was this some rogue group or a calculated move on the part of Pirate Lord Ambrose? If so to what end? Temijen felt he might still turn this around to his advantage however, and this summit might prove the prefect chance to do so.

Oravos the Nerevarine
30th of the Second Seed
King's Chamber, New Vivec

Oravos stood by the window in his chamber, admiring the city as if it was his first time seeing it. The view of the city he had was captivating, which explains why his attention is fixed only on the sight before him. While Oravos was occupied with admiring the city, the doors of his chamber cracked open, letting a figure dressed in a red robe walk in. The robed figure soon stopped walking and knelt before Oravos.

"My king, I bear a message from Lord Ildoryn, he has instructed me to deliver it to you... personally." The messenger says he lift the scroll upwards with both of his hands.

Oravos remained still as he listened to the sounds that came from behind him. Unknown to the robed figure, Oravos was already prepared to toss a dagger towards his direction. If the messenger didn't speak any sooner, he would have had a dagger stuck between his eyes. After hearing that Ildoryn sent the robed figure, Oravos turned and walked towards the messenger that knelt before him. Oravos examined the scroll briefly, checking Ildoryn's seal before finally opening the scroll and reading it.


The Argonians attacked, just like you've predicted. I was in Tear when they attacked the city, and held there until the Armigers arrived. If not for their arrival, the Argonians would have trapped us inside the city and starved us out. I've deployed the Armigers along the eastern shores with the Sentinels as their captains. The mages are preparing the portals you've requested and the Order of the Inquisition had began purging the army of any possible defectors during this campaign. Everything is going as planned here, and once its done, I'll move to Mournhold, and mobilize the army there. Also, I've captured several Argonians during the siege, which I assume you can use for the building of the wall in Vvardenfell. The messenger will give you the key and location to where I've sent them, if you're interested. Just make sure to send someone you trust, it wouldn't be pleasant if the people knew that the king himself was breaking his own laws on slavery.

Your friend and trusted servant
Ildoryn Sarano


After reading the message, Oravos' hands began to be engulfed with flames, burning the scroll which he was holding at that time. He then turns his attention to the messenger and motions him to stand up. As soon as the messenger is up, the messenger takes out a small piece of paper with a key on it, and hands it over to the king.

"You're free to leave, tell the guards outside that I need a filth to be dealt with... they'll know what to do." Oravos says while tucking the paper and key into his pockets.

"As you wish muthsera." The messenger says in a monotonous tone before leaving the room.

---

Telvanni Grand Councilor Neloth
Molag Volen, Vvardenfell

Molag Volen, once known as Dagoth Ur's lair, was the dwemeric stronghold situated on the Red Mountain. When the Nerevarine returned to Morrowind, Molag Volen was excavated out and turned into one of the secret strongholds of the Nerevarine. Lava filled most of the chambers of the place when it was opened, with some of the Sixth House artifacts still intact from when Oravos attacked the place. Though the people knew of its existence, none ventured to it, as cover up rumors spread by the agents of Oravos, claimed that the place was still infested by the blight of Dagoth Ur. The place was turned into a facility that lead to the magma chambers of the volcano it sat upon. The residents of the place are trusted servants of the Nerevarine, exploiting the riches of the volcano that terrorized the Dunmer for centuries.

"I hope you find this place more pleasant than the Corprusarium." Neloth says to a person shrouded by the shadows of the pipes. "Its hotter in here, but I guess it doesn't reek of rotten flesh." Neloth added as he examined the blueprints that was scattered on the tables, all of them written in Dwemeris. "Reminds me of my old days in Arkngthand, though the ambiance here is more.. heavy." The person replies, while tinkering with a complex Dwemeric machine connected to a pipe that lead to the core of the volcano. "I know you have a lot of questions to ask me, but I must insist you save it until our work here is over." The person says before twisting a lever that sends a steam bursting through the pipe, into the the magma below.

"Its like you've read my mind." says Neloth before watching the magma bubble from below the platform they were standing on. "I'm impressed that the Nerevarine persuaded you to do this.. after being absent for most of the events that happened in Morrowind, I never really expected that you still believed in him." Neloth adds while placing a Heart Stone in the middle of a molder before him. "In the past, he went to the Corprusarium to talk to me everyday, so I guess you can say he and I were close once. I owed him some favors for bringing me books and other things that kept me company inside that wretched place. I rarely had any intelligent visitors other than Fyr and his wives, so his company alone is gift which I'd gladly repay one day." The person says while watching the magma pour out of a vent on the wall, leaking into the molder. "When Oravos visited me in the Corprusarium two years earlier, he asked me this favor, which I declined at first." The person comments. "But when he told me about the impending invasion, I knew that your people wouldn't stand a chance, so I accepted. Besides, when I'm done with this, we'll be even." stated by the person before pulling a lever that lowers another molder on the one filled with magma.

"Yagrum Bagarn the first and last Dwemer to fight the invaders from Akavir, I hope they write that on the books when this is over."

Helstrom, Argonia, Ruler’s keep council room.

Rules-With-Claw

28th of the Second Seed

---

“I do not care about some dissident group of mercenaries who do not heed the Hist. If they wish to waste their time attacking Morrowind, let them.” The dominating hiss of Argonia’s undisputed ruler echoed through the halls of the Ruler’s keep. He had taken the name Rules-With-Claw upon ascension to the throne, and he wore the mantle well. His powerful physique seemed to be made more powerful by the presence of the crown and the axe: his two symbols of power.

“My lord…” The voice was from the lord of Thorn, the city that was the closest to the border of Morrowind. “...It is unlikely that the Dunmar will let such an assault slide. They will demand compensation.”

“And we will give them none. We are not helpless anymore, Murraahk of Thorn. They will ask, and we will decline. If they wish to start a war against us, they will find that every shadow has scales. You are all dismissed.”

The sound of chairs scraping on stone rang through the hall as every lord was sent away from the halls of the ruling Argonian...All except three. Rules-With-Claw was aware of the rumours that surrounded these particular argonians. The inner-council, the-claws-with-which-he-rules. Five individuals normally made up these, one was missing.

They all held a different aspect of Argonian culture under their mastery: Sha’eek, the lady in waiting and the matriarch of the Shadowscales; Maraan’a, Archmagus of The Helstrom Academy of Mages and Speaks-with-Songs, the grand Hist-ee. He could spend an age describing these three, as well as the missing An-Xileel warclaw. They were his confidants and his most important of advisers. In these four alone, he would never doubt.

Sha’eek was the first to speak. She cleared her throat in that subtle way she did, and suddenly she was the whisper everyone wanted to hear. “The agent is in place, lord. He infiltrated the mercenaries and now sits in Morrowind, awaiting command.” There were murmurs from the other three claws, with only the ruler himself remaining quiet.

“That is good. You assure me he is unrecognisable from the others?” Rules-With-Claw looked at Sha’eek with the renewed enthusiasm of a man several years his younger. He had lost his life a great many moons ago, and Sha’eek had been the occasional company he’d taken since. What united them, he knows not. Perhaps she had intended to use him as much as he had planned to use her in the political game they used to play. Perhaps that was why they were such good friends, even now.

“Of course, lord…” She paused, as if about to speak his name: his true name. Ever since he’d taken the mantle Rules-With-Claw, he had allowed only a few people to speak his Argonian title. It was a difficult word to pronounce, even for the beast folk. Amongst Men and Mer, it was an impossible utterance. “...He looks as any Argonian does. I doubt the rest of the mercenaries even know of his true colours.”

Rules-with Claw nodded, a toothy grin on the warrior’s face. “That is good. Hopefully, we won’t need to even call upon him, yet I refuse to let the Dark elven Cat-dung think that I am pleased with how they trample on our ancestor’s graves. They have waned in the time since they shackled us, while we have waxed. They would do well to remember that.”

Next, he turned to the two most mythical men in his kingdom. Both were adept at spellcraft, yet of such differing variants that it would be impossible to call them classmates. “I am told that my son left Stormhold a day ago, on the way to a council, or summit of some sorts. Does his journey bode well?”

Both of the mystic men looked at each other and offered a smile. Then, in unison, they nodded at the Argonian leader and spoke in unison. “Yes, my lord.”

---

Imperial Road, Cyrodiil wilds.

Stalks-The-Stars

30th of the Second Seed

---

Something felt good about being in the open world again. Stalks-The-Stars was hardly suited for the art of being a lordly lizard, and he missed the days he served as a general of the Au-Xileel. He had been a warrior: one of the highest ranking members of the argonian war machine. He had stalked the jungles of Argonia as a hunter and as a predator.

Lords did not get to hunt, but it was what Stalks-The-Stars did best. He was hunting a different kind of prey now: one that had eluded Argonians for four eras thus far: Political intrigue. Stalks-The-Stars knew people in most kingdoms now. Envoys and lords who had visited his city and tried so very hard to ascertain what the newly opened Argonia lands could offer. In truth, he wasn’t sure himself. That was part of his reason for being here, really. He would make a tour of the 9 provinces at large if he had to. Thankfully, he doubted it would come to that.

Indeed, his first stop was the most obvious one to visit on a mission of politics. The Imperial city itself. Every nation had an agent in these streets: every province had a place and every agent an agenda. He had but to show up on the emperor's doorstep with whispers of an Argonian proposal of alliance, and within a week, the entire nine provinces would likely sniff around the unknown and unaligned 9th entity.

His father was a master at war, and Stalks-The-Stars fancied himself a warrior too, yet it was this game of intrigue that he found most fun, in recent years. Few argonian’s did it better than him.

On the horizon, he could see the Imperial city. It didn’t even matter if the emperor was there or not: he just needed to make a statement: an invitation to Stormwind city would probably be enough to set the plans of himself and his father in motion.

Summit at The Isle of Balfiera!

The Emperor stood around the table for the summit, running his hand along it's freshly cleaned surface. His aides, two members of the Elder Council from Cyrodiil, stood next to him, speaking into his ear of the rumours of the day as they waited for the other atendee's of the summit.
"Do not expect this to be easy, my Emperor, the Bretons are divided and the Redguards have no reason to trust anything we say" The political minister said as he pointed to Hammerfell on the map, but the Emperor waved him off and spoke.
"They'll see reason, the Aldmeri have to be stopped before they can rebuild their power, or we will be fighting the great war a second time... And this time we won't last a month." Triarius sighed as he lent over the map "If we can get their support, we might have the nessercairy forces to take the Summerset Isle... Maybe. Pirates haven't made it easy for us, I have no doubt the Redguards will be giving the glare across the table for that, even if it wasn't Wayrests fault. Once they arrive, I'll make the speech and try to sway them that way..."
"If you aim for an appeal to tradition, it's hardly going to work."
"I don't, I aim for an appeal to reason. After that we can hold negotiations and maybe settle the Bretons internal conflicts down and at least redirect some of the Redguard hate away from us for the time being." The Emperor stood upright again, and began to rub his chin slowly as the General pointed to Valenwood
"If all goes to plan, we'll have Valenwood, my liege, and then the Thalmor will have no foothold on Tamriel. But if you cannot gather the naval forces required, it'll have all been for nought"
"I know that, I'm not a fool."

Prince Narcisse Septim-Vincens was the first to arrive of the four monarchs, flanked by his two advisors, a silver-maned but stout old man and a dainty looking young woman, looking more accustomed to a ballroom than the political courts of Tamriel. That was the Bretons, though, always betraying assumptions. Liars, thieves, backstabbers. They would never let an ally down, of course, unless the request required them to be truthful, guileless and noble.

Prince Narcisse took his place at the table, just a random spot with the only thought to his placing being to sit where Triarius was sure to hear him. As much as Triarius may have hoped the possible last surviving remnant of the Septim dynasty to applaud him and his Triarian-Dynasty Empire Narcisse would be more than happy to remind Gaius that it was the Septims, the Dragonborn emperors who made Cyrodiil great. Not pretenders. Not Medes. Septims.

"Gaius." Narcisse said, simply.

"Ah, High Rocks representive... I was begining to worry no one would come, the word of the Empire carries little weight now... A stuffed olive has more influence than the races of men, it could choke someone important and change history" The Emperor sighed as he turned to him "Your Narcisse, yes? Supposed last of the Septims. Well met." He gave a short smile. Whether the two agreed or not would be irrelevant to him. He had met a Septim, one of those of the line which built an Empire. An Empire he was tasked with rebuilding. An Empire he had to remain loyal to, even if it's rulers were dead and it had technically become his.

"I am but the first of five. The Pirate-Lord is rumored to be on his way here. I haven't met him," Narcisse poured himself a glass of water after waving away one of the servant girls, "Have you met him? I hear he's a cutthroat." Narcisse sat back down and took two long gulps of the water before wiping his mouth on his sleeve. A simple white cloth shirt unlike his advisor, not an inch of clothing on him pointed to him being the Crown Prince of Camlorn, "Narcisse, yes. Septim-Vincens, last of the line, last I heard. How do you think I'd look with those oh-so-fancy Emperor's Robes on me, hm?" He laughed at that.

"Now we wait for the Redguards and Nord and perhaps we can achieve what we set out here for" The Imperial General said as he took a message from one of the Imperial Legionairres, who whispered something in his ear. He turned his head towards the Emperor "The action has started in Valenwood, sir." The Emperor merely nodded in response, and gave a short 'good' as an answer

Narcisse's brow rose at that, "Anything you'd like to share, my Emperor?" The title bogged down with the weight of sarcasm rather than authority. At that, the doors flung open yet again and none other than King Ferrand Bellemont himself, as well as his advisor, in all of his dyed silken splendor and crown'd glory did he step into the room, the sound of him walking permeating the hall, each step a King's. His name held the most weight in all of High Rock, and King Frithjolf trailed behind him, indifferent to Ferrand's charms in lieu of his furs and rugged beard set below those hard eyes of his. A warrior's eyes, and not too given over to fearing bits and baubles and titles of authority. He'd killed two Kings.

As Frithjolf, advisors in his wake, gave a polite nod- more a gruff movement of the neck with him- he wondered how many Kings he'd have to kill to equal one Emperor. No matter what Kingdom you went to after the Great War, each had a story to tell about the Empire's injustices done. It is said that Bretons have a long memory and their rulers have the longest.

The Emperor shot a glance like daggers at Narcisse at the tone he gave when he mentioned his title, but he didn't say anything. Maybe it was respect for the now dead line, or maybe he just didn't want to turn this into a massive mess "My legionairres have invaded Valenwood. I managed to turn the Wood Elves against the Thalmor, they should be tossing them out as we speak. If all goes according to plan, then we'll see the Aldmeri Dominion confined to Alinor... and that will be the final battlefield in this war. One I obviously need assistance for, or I wouldn't be calling a Summit." The Emperor quickly turned his head to the doors as they crashed open, and looked the approaching Breton, and then the Nord, up and down before giving a quick smile and nodding "Well met, join us, please. We're still waiting for the others so feel free to eat or drink whatever the servants have for us." He took a drink from from the goblet that had been set on the table before him for what seemed like an age without being touched, before adding quitely to the General beside him "After all, if the Thalmor get their way we'll all be working in chains and eating gruel."

"Speaking of," King Ferrand spoke from his seat, his hand busy toying with the goblet in front of him, "The Redguards are somewhat indisposed by privateers and corsairs. Everyone knows who pays the pirates in the Abecean. Stros M'kai has been being harrased and their merchant ships are being relieved of their load."

"A shame," Narcisse laughed, just a slight blow of air through the nose and a smile, "You'd think they'd be able to handle it in a few days, the way they speak of themselves. Warriors all, weaklings none."

"Odd, you scoff at them in their absence, Narcisse." Ferrand said with a raised brow.

"Apologies, I dislike those who are too sure of themselves." Narcisse gave a sour look, to which Ferrand only gave a thin smile.

"Now, if we may get to the summit at hand-"

"I have arrived." Ferrand was interrupted by Beralt and Ambrose entering the room.

"As have I. I am honored to be in the presence of such esteemed men." Ambrose said, the two new arrivals finding their seats.

"If we may get on with this summit." Ferrand once again spoke with a raised voice, one that commanded obedience and respect.

Elsweyr

Until a new leader can be instated, the Imperial administration have taken over the running of Elsweyr and the legion have taken to the streets in hopes to avert any unrest

Valenwood

"Legionairres, follow me to glory!" Called the Legate, as he pointed his sword up to the bosmer. "Legionairres in front, Archer up back, battlemages on the sides, be ready for a fight"
The Emperors legionaries marched after the Legate, who in turn marched after the Bosmer that were leading them. The Archers had their arrows on hand and the legionaries had their swords at the ready. Something about this woods put them all on edge, as though they expected the Altmer to jump out at any moment... And they might not be too far from the truth is they expected this.

Summit

The Emperor nodded in response, and though he tried not to let it show, he was obviously crestfallen that only one of those he had invited had actually turned up
"Very well, let's begin. The Thalmor are a cunning an dangerous foe, and they are inevitably the foe of all the races of men, that much is certain. And being a cunning foe, they watch and wait for their time, their opportunity to strike and cast us down, enslaving us. They will achieve this of we let them, that is inevitable also." The Emperor began, looking at them each in turn "Are we to let them? Or will the races of men... And indeed in the case of the Bretons, the various kingdoms, take their blades from each others throats and turn them to the Thalmor. That means no damned pirates raiding the Redguards and no personal vendetta's in High Rock. High rock must look like easy pickings to the elves, and we all know if they get their chance they will destroy all your kingdoms, duchys or republics. But if we turn our blades to them, then the tables have turned. If we can get the Nords and the Redguards as well, then the Thalmor will no longer be looking at little warring nations with a grin, but at the united armies of half a continent. The high elves stare down at us past their perfumed noses, thinking that they are better than us, they hate us... But together, we can give them a reason for hate. When Summerset falls, when the elves are crushed, when the Aldmeri dominion lies in tatters... Then we can return to our petty conflicts, if they mean that much"

darkwolf687 said
Valenwood"Legionairres, follow me to glory!" Called the Legate, as he pointed his sword up to the bosmer. "Legionairres in front, Archer up back, battlemages on the sides, be ready for a fight"The Emperors legionaries marched after the Legate, who in turn marched after the Bosmer that were leading them. The Archers had their arrows on hand and the legionaries had their swords at the ready. Something about this woods put them all on edge, as though they expected the Altmer to jump out at any moment... And they might not be too far from the truth is they expected this.

the bosmer nodded to their allies to follow them as they jumped on the tree branches to lead them, a few staying near the rear to watch the legionnaires to make sure they didn't try to hurt their forests otherwise they would be forced to attack their allies as they lead them to the most densely populated area of the altmer presence near the south shore docks the altmer used to bring in more of their own into vallenwood

Imperial administration

Elsweyr: In a quick and decisive move, with the hopes of garnering more support, the mounted horsemen who had been protecting the convoy and are now free are deployed to Torval, taking with them orders to prosecute the perpetrators of the previous drug induced orgy of violence to the fullest extent of Imperial law. The issue was unwisely left to fester by the Mane, and as a result the Imperials hope to gather support by proving that they are above the failings of the previous government. The perpetrators, who had been left without a trial, are given a trial in which all received 20 years imprisonment, or an alternative 20,000 Septim fine. This is quickly announced and spread by many local news letters. In addition, the Empire has called for an instant end to all hostiles between the people. Not wishing a repeat of Skyrim, they call for all sides to come to the table. Governor-Millitant Alexander hopes that, at the very least, the independence movements will be fractured and he will be able to tarnish peoples hopes in the cause through that manner. The Empire calls for all loyal citizens to engage in debate and convince the separatists that the Empire is good for Elsweyr.
The Elsweyr administration has announced that, in the coming days, it will publish the reasons why it believes that Elsweyr should remain with the Empire in addition to what has only been deemed "Important information". It's clear that the Empire wishes to handle the situation peacefully, likely due to it's forcing already being run all over the place.

Imperial law enforcement: High Rock

Realising that it is unlikely the fractured High Rock kings will make a concentrated effort to bring the Pirate Lord Dupont to justice, the Imperial Legion is High Rock has decided to add a little more... Incentive. At the same time,four members of the Penitus Oculatus are tasked with the location of and elimination of Dupont, as well as the safe return of the Redguard sailors to their country. The few imperial naval vessels that could be spared have been deployed to the north to hunt down the Pirate lord

To all loyal citizens of the Empire and High Rock
By the standards of Imperial law, it is hereby decreed that a bounty of 8,000 Septims be placed on the head of the Pirate Lord Dupont. Should he be delivered alive, a sum of 9,000 Septims shall be paid
500 Septims per Man/Woman for the safe return of the Redguard Sailors
100 Septims per head of Duponts non-law abiding associates
Let it be known that all those who harbour or willingly with hold information pertaining to this individuals location or capture will be fined.

Valenwood

The Imperial legion stolled just before the end of the tree line, a few moving forwards to get a view of the harbour. The two members of the Penitus Oculatus moved forwards to the Legate and whispered in his ear. He nodded and the two agents loved.forwards slipping into the docks, avoiding the Thalmor guards. The legionairres waited for the signal, crouched down in the thicket.

The agents chosen had, naturally, both been elves. As a result, it had been relatively easy for them to sneak in once they concealed their armour with robes and posed as Thalmor mages. It took them nearly three hours to achieve their goal, keeping themselves out of the way of as many Thalmor as possible. At about 2:15 AM,, the signal was given. Two of the ships began to burn, and 20 Legion archers rose from the thicket moving forwards and setting their arrows alight before firing them at the dock, hopefully spreading more confusion. At that moment, the Equites rode forwards from behind the army, riding into the docks and tossing their javelins at the Thalmor as they rode by, circling to a void the Thalmor attacks. The two penitus Oculatus agents wisely fled from the scene. They were not primarily soldiers and it would be a waste for them to be lost in battle.
After tossing two Javelins a piece, the cavalry withdrew, and the legate signalled for the bosmer to launch arrows, as the Thalmor had by now mostly regained their senses. The legionairres in heavy armour marched forwards, forming an organised line before the forest, behind them their lightly armoured brethren waited, crouched down in the undergrowth for their turn to charge, waiting to draw the Thalmor into a trap. About two fifths of the battlemages waited with them, while another two fifths were with the heavily armoured legionairres, providing defense against Thalmor magic. The other fifth? They had mounted the back of some Equites horses, who had been riding through the woods around the perimeter and towards the sea, before following it, aimkng to attack from the flank once the Thalmor approached the main force.

The bosmer waited until the signal was given. When it was they started firing arrows from the tree tops making sure to jump from tree to tree to give confusion and make the thalmor soldiers think their was an army in the trees when it reality it was only a small group as they fitted their storm of arrows to help push back the thalmor forced back for the imperial soldier making sure to have their mages try to avoid the arrows that flew down

Imperial City, Cyrodil
Stalks-The-Stars
2nd of Midyear, 4E 205
___

It was a pleasant place, he had to admit. Despite the change in architecture forced by its sacking, the Imperial City was still a sight to behold. It was beautiful and well defendable and most importantly, was the seat of the empire. Stalks-The-Stars walked into the district of ambassadors, the center in which every part of Tamriel had once kept an official in order to put across their respective country’s needs. Nowadays, it was empty of a number of races: most notably the High elves and the wood-elves. The latter was being cleaned up, as was the dilapidated home of the Khajit’s interest. The smallest building belonged to the Argonian representative, most likely as a result of reclusive politicians or secretive nature.

No more.

He made an effort to ensure he was seen by every ambassador before he eventually walked past the ambassador’s sector and on towards the White-gold tower itself. An emperor may not have been on the throne this very second, but it was the seat of his power, and also held the Elder-council itself.

He got as far as the door before a member of the city guard stopped him. He sighed before producing a letter, sealed in wax with the portrait of an Argonian head. “You may deliver this, if you wish then, dry-one.” He offered the letter to the imperial, who hesitated. Stalks-the-Stars turned his back to the guard, facing the door of the place he had just came from, under no illusion that his conversations would be quiet. Instead, he raised his voice, allowing any onlooker to hear.

“The lord of Argonia and the Master of Black Marsh, Rules-with-Claw, invites The emperor and any other Man or Mer to visit the city of Stormhold in Four weeks, on the 26th of Midyear, where negotiations will be opened between the Argonian ruler and anyone who seeks to ally themselves with the Argonian people.”

Stalks-The-Stars turns from the doorway and back towards the Imperial guard, who he notices for the first time is actually quite young and has a pale face, apparently only just realising the importance of what had transpired. Stalks-The-Stars smiled as he placed the letter in the guard’s armoured fingers. “Take that to your council, I am going home.”

Stalks-The-Stars reached down to his finger, feeling the familiar touch of the steel ring on his finger, as well as the decorative Wolf’s head. He felt hungry for the first time in a long time: perhaps he’d pick up a sweet roll on his way back to the Marsh.

Valenwood

The Thalmor forces, now organised, charged the imperial line, hoping to break it to stop the rain of death from the archers in the tree's. The few archer the Thalmor had left fired arrows towards the tree line, hoping to hit what they thought a large bosmer force in the trees. The Thalmor soldiers and battlemages approached the line, and the legionaries raised their Javelins into the air, before tossing them forwards. The powerful javelins flew through the air, and more of the Thalmor fell. A second rain of Javelins as the Thalmor approached, and more fell dead, the Javelins smashing through shield and armour and flesh. The legionnaires held up their shields and kept their swords at the ready, preparing for the Thalmor attacks on the wall. The Thalmor soldiers smashed against it like water upon rock, and as swords clashed against shield the legionnaires returned the blows, engaging in back and forth sword fighting with the Thalmor, as the Thalmor battle mages launched their magic. The Imperial battlemages revealed themselves, and threw silence spells at the Thalmor negating their magic. The Thalmor mages drew their swords and charged into the fray. And as they did, the light legionaries who had been lying in wait rose, charing past their heavy armoured comrades and adding their numbers to the fray. Shocked by the sudden appearance of even more soldiers, stacking the odds further against them, the Thalmor broke and routed. The horsemen rode out, darting towards the Thalmor archers, hacking any in their path to death as the mages riding with them slung spells at the enemy lines. Many of the Thalmor were butchered was they retreated, the imperial legion seemed all too glad to take revenge on the Thalmor for all they had done. Finally, what was left of the Thalmor was surrounded, and they were captured by the legion. The legate rode forwards to the cheers of his men holding the Thalmor flag high in the air as it slowly burnt, before tossing it to the ground and turning to his men "This is a heroic victory, truly worthy of our arms! When what's left of the Thalmor in Valenwood see the mess we have made of their largest force here in Valenwood, let their hearts be frozen with fear, and may the NINE divines deliver us to glory!" He yelled, then turned his head to the standard bearer "Fly our colours!"

Then a messenger rode im, over the bloody fields of corpses, and called out to the legate "Message for you, air!" He yelled, as rode up and handed the letter to the Legate who opened it up and quickly read over if. He rode back towards the thicket, handing it to one of the Bosmer
"Deliver this to your keeper, the fate of Elsweyr, your trading partner depends on it"

Legate Caius,

You must, with due haste, convince the Bosmer Keeper to embargo all trade from the south of Elsweyr while stepping up trade with the north. There is a rebellion brewing in the south, and we must not allow them to continue to arm themselves for if they do all hopes for a peaceful resolution is vain. The only way to do this is to kill their trade

Faithfully
Governor-Militant Alexander

Imperial City

The Guard delivered it straight to the high chancellor, who read over it. He stroked his chin, considering what the Emperor might wish and what was good for the Empire. There could surely be no harm in attending? He handed the letter to another councillor, who read over it. Slowly, he rose from his chair
"I shall attend personally" The old councillor said "Guardsmen, summon my carriage and escourt, we leave at once to pounce upon this opportunity"

The bosmer shook their heads no and they went to the dead bodies of the altmer and they did what the green pact forced them to do, never waste a kill. So they went and started to eat the bodies and pick it clean to the bone soon the first one that killed the least took the letter and ran through the trees to get to me in the central part of the forest

I saw the fellow bosmer come and he gave me the letter and as I read I was tempted to burn the letter myself! They wanted us to kill trade with the kajhit! They were the ones with the skooma and they were our greatest trade partners after the altmer abandoned us! How could we simply force an embargo that quickly so instead he wrote a new letter

To the govoner- militia
if you can give plausible proof to this claim I will consider it. To ask this of us is illogical without evidence. The kajhit have been our trading partners for years, the mane wouldn't succumb to an open revolt
From bosmer keeper

He wrote as he gave it back to the bosmer meant as he ran back to the legate seeing his brothers still eat the bodies of those altmer soldiers while the manner gave the message to the legate to send to whoever sent the letter to him

The legate frowned at the Bosmer as he read the letter, before turning to the messenger, handing him the letter "What's going on in Elsweyr? What's the mane doing to quell the rebellion?"
"What's the mane doing? He's being shoved in a coffin after coughing up his guts. Poison, they say." The messenger said, and the Legate frowned
"Who did it?"
"North says south, south says north... Classic tale. My opinion sir, must be the Elves. The Mane was good for the Empire, and the Khajiit wouldn't turn on the mane, only the Aldmeri stand to gain" The messenger said, and the Legate turned his head to the Bosmer
"Is that proof enough? The manes dead and the Khajiit are at each others throats, what more do you want, me to have his body shipped out here?" The Legate paused and sighed "Doesn't matter now anyway." He turned to his Tribune "Signal the navy, there's some Elven vessels for them to take. Get the forces ready, we've denied the Thalmor their landing point but there are still Thalmor forces in Valenwood. We might be needed back in Elsweyr too"

Skirmish in Stros M'kai part one
5th of Midyear, 4E 205
Hircine's Summoning Day

"Brilliant thought, this battling against altmer mages!" Dorio said, ending in a shriek as he dived aside and behind a water trough. A lightning bolt blasted out the distant building's open front door, digging a small trench across the ground just to the side where Dorio had been.

"They are annoying," Kiainia said, accentuating her point by popping up from behind a barrel and letting fly three arrows in rapid succession from Skyfire. Her trusted longbow, one forged of ebony and enchanted with a very potent element indeed. All three missiles, magically sizzling like true lightning bolts of their own, disappeared into the darkness of the house and popped loudly against some unseen surface within.

"We should move," Dorio remarked. "He-or they-knows where we are."

Kiainia shook her head, her dark locks swaying with the motion, but dived low and cried out as a second bolt of lightning came forth. It hit the barrel in front of her, blasting it to kindling and sending out a thick spray of foamy beer. Dorio started to cry out for his friend, but stopped when he discovered that Kiainia, moving with speed enhanced by magical anklets, was already crouching beside him frowning.

"You may have a point though," the Redguard women conceded.

"Call reinforcements, at the least!" Dorio said, but Kiainia was shaking her head through every word.

Kiainia and Dorio had traveled with a larger patrol of Redguard soldiers as part of an advanced scouting force earlier that day. They had come to the east end of the jungle to a small port town on the coast upon learning of rumors that agents of the Thalmor had been spotted in the area. They had been ambushed soon after arriving however, and learned quickly enough that most of the town had been harboring more than a few spies. Worse yet most of them were skilled mages, and that fact had forced Kiainia to split the patrol into pairs, least a stray fireball kill them all and mark them an easy target. However, well they were more flexible a force now, they could not as easily support each other beneficently. Small private battles had sprung up across the jungle town and it was hard to tell which side was winning. Kiainia could hardly believe that the Dominion had managed to get agents onto the island at all. Perhaps this was connected with the rather brazen pirate attacks?

Dorio glanced back down the road the other way, at a column of black smoke that rose into the late afternoon sky. "Where is Taradyn?" He lamented.

"Fighting at the bridge that leads to the harbor, as we knew he would be. If these agents escape we won’t learn what their planing or what they've learned."

"Bah! The sentries in the area should have heard the fighting by now and come to our aid!"

"We're forward scouts," Kiainia reminded. "It was not our place to engage."

"Forward scouts in a battle that came to swiftly," Dorio remarked.

"Let us hope we can extract ourselves from this unwanted delay and at least capture one Thalmor." Kiainia remarked.

Dorio turned his almost cherubic but frowning face up at Kiainia, recognizing from the women's tone that her words were a not so subtle reminder of why they had been spotted by the wizard's in the first place.

"I was thirsty," Dorio muttered under his breath followed by a shrug, eliciting a grin from Kiainia and a sidelong glance at the shattered barrel that had so lured the redguard scout into the open.

"Wars will do that to you." Kiainia replied, ending in another yelp and shoving Dorio down beside her as a third lightning bolt shot forth, skimming in across the top of the trough and taking out one of the higher boards in the process. Even as the ground shook beneath them from the retort, water began to drain out onto them. Dorio rolled one way and Kiainia the other, the woman coming up to one knee. "Drink up," she said, putting her bow to use once again, first through the open door, then shattering a glass window and another on the second floor for good measure. She kept drawing and letting blow, her magical quiver forever replenishing her supply of enchanted missiles.

A different sort of missile came forth from the house, though, and a trio of small pulses of magical light, spinning over each other, bending and turning and sweeping unerringly for Kiainia. One split off at the last moment as the retreating redguard tried futilely to dodge. It veered right into Dorio's chest, singeing his vest and sending jolts of energy through him. Kiainia took her two hits with a grimace and a almost feral growl, and turned around to send another arrow at the window from which the missiles had flown from. As she let fly, she envisioned her path to the house, looking for barriers against the persistent magical barrage. She sent another magical arrow flying. It hit the doorjamb and exploded with a shower of magical sparks.

Using that as cover, Kiainia sprinted at an angle to the right side of the street, heading behind a group of barrels. She thought she would make it, expected to dive past another lightening stroke, as she lowered her head and sprinted full out. She felt foolish for so overbalancing, though, as she saw a pea of flame gracefully arc out of the second floor window.

"Kiainia!" Dorio cred, seeing it too.

And then the man's friend was gone, just gone, when the fireball exploded all around the barrels and the front of the building backing them...

The bosmer messenger nodded and quickly went back to me while the bosmer that were still their finished eating the bodies of the thalmor that they killed they got back into the trees jumping the trees to lead the imperial towards the next group of altmer near the west coast where they set up a camp for their injured and skilled craftsmen. The thalmor that were their were need for them to maintain control over bosmer.

The messenger got back to me and told me everything and I looked to the sky "I'm sorry, friend" I whispered to the sky and I sighed loudly as I sent him back with my message to the legate
To the legate,
if what you say is true, then their is no reason not to stop a civil war that will break them apart. You have one of the clans under your control. However you must know that although we are skilled with archery and running on trees it is the kajhit that can beat us. direct my clansmen to the sure and they will proceed with your embargo. my northern clansmen will proceed to start trade with the north however keep in mind I don't have bosmer to spare so you won't Be able to call on my men till after they finish trading"

From the keeper

After that the messenger ran back to give the message to the legate as quick as possible

High General Abasi-Kil
Ynslea
12th of Midyear

---

The fleet finally arrived in Ynslea, after more than a month at sea. The journey was uneventful, they sailed mostly on smooth winds. There were days of storms, but at their first signs, the battlemages made sure the sky was clear.

The fleet, consisted of more than one hundred ships, docked loosely around the small island. A group of Ka Po' Tun mercenaries already cleared out the landing area, prior to the fleet's arrival. The natives of the island, pathetic small creatures, hurried back to their villages and left the shores vacant.

The high general stretched his upper body, the humanoid part of him, as his serpent tail slithered on the sands. His Tsaesci legions were scattered around the island, taking a much needed shore leave. The Tang Mo quickly made their camps in the forest, where they picked and fed on various native fruits. The Kamal contagion stayed mostly on their ships, few would appear briefly on the island but otherwise mostly unseen. Lastly, five Ka Po' Tun hired blades sat around two boats. One of these boats were clearly Akaviri design, while the other appeared foreign to Abasi-Kil.

Accompanied by his general staff, Abasi approached the mercenaries.

"Good to see you, general." One of the feline greeted. "We believe this is a well prepared shore, worthy of our payment, hmm?"

"As promised," the Tsaesci general answered. Turn to his aide, he retrieved several pouches of gold coins. "Here is your pay. I need to know though, where is my report on Tamriel?"

"You have to ask him," one of the mercenaries pointed to the lone tiger sitting beside the foreign looking boat. "He's got your stuff."

The general turned and slithered toward the lone tiger. After handing over the gold coins, Abasi learned the tiger's name, Adi Tuah, and all of his exploits...

---

A few hours later

---

So Tamriel is at war, Abasi thought. The elimination of this "Mane" individual would no doubt cause rifts between factions of Elsweyr. Adi Tuah also spoke of rumors, something of an alliance between human races. Though this would be an obstacle to the invasion, there was little he could do to disrupt it. There was also talks of war between the Dark Elves and Argonians, a war in eastern Tamriel, where the initial landings would take place.

Oravos, Abasi grunted. He remembered the elf coming to Akavir, the first time an outsider setting foot since Uriel V. The dunmer was initially viewed with suspicion, but after assisting the races of Akavir in repelling the daedric invasion from Oblivion, Oravos became respected by the Akaviri. Abasi was young back then, only a captain in the army. However, as the king's top swordsman and tactician, Abasi personally met and exchanged tactics with the elf. Slowly, Oravos proved himself as a equally skilled warrior, something no other have done.

Now, years after Oravos' departure, the dark elf would probably be a prominent figure in his homeland. From the tales Oravos told, he was a "Nerevarine" amongst his people. Whatever that word meant, Abasi knew it was important. Though they crossed blades on the training ground, it would a shame to cross blades again, on the battlefield. Perhaps, the general thought, they could work together again, just like old times.

Taking a piece of parchment and a inked quill, Abasi began to write.

Oravos,

I am Abasi-Kil, high general of the Tsaesci Kingdom. Perhaps you would remember me, then again, perhaps you would not. It does not matter in the end, for a storm is coming from the east. We fought the deadra together as allies, and when the storm finally lands, I hope we will once again be allies, not enemies.

---

The general secretly delivered the letter to Adi Tuah, instructing the Ka Po' Tun to once again return to Tamriel, specifically, to Morrowind. Abasi knew the move was controversial, and such controversy would no doubt undermine his authority. The mercenary was surprised at Abasi's request, for he was not a common messenger. But with the gold he was promised, no one could deny such a lucrative opportunity.

Solitude
13th of Mid Year
Jartod The Righteous
====================

"Enough!" yelled Jartod has he sat back on the throne, staring to the two Nords.

"Your telling me, that these mercenaries are trying to take a down?"

"Me' Lord, no it's just that there threating us.. and destroying our crops..." said the shaken Nord

" Hmph.. very well .. I'll send some men to dispatch of these raiders .. go back to work now! " Commanded Jartod

Jartod sat on the throne, has he store into the middle of the asile. He looked to the two nords walking away

Jartod shook his head has he viewed his advisor Lodvemar Mjorersson, Lodvemor was Jartods finest advisors, he knew how to think and react has a king, but also how to be cunning and manipulative.

" Sire, these mercanries are getting out of hand, we should just launch an invasion into there base " said Lodvemar

"No , no it'll be unwise for us to.. we have to see what there true plan is... " replied Jartod, has he tapped on the side of his throne.

Skyrim was in a state of general upheaval. It's Army was ever growing and economy starting to show signs of improving but since then there has be talks of the Throne. Jartod , the Redguard Dragonborn has risen suspicion of the death of Ulfric. Mercenary Groups have started around the outskirts of Skyrim, mostly lightly armoured they don't pose a real threat but they keep expanding. The General Population are in favor of Jartod, to begin brining new change to Skyrim, a good amount of change indeed. But some view Jartod's rule has fake, and just a evil ploy by the thalmor and/or the imperials

=================================================
Morthal
13 of MidtYear
Guard Capitan Ralondir

" KEEP YOUR BLADES UP, COME ON!" Shout Ralondir has he watched the Recruits train. Morthal was in a state of displease, with mercaniere raids being more common the men were working overtime to keep these cites safe. A convoy of men, then later cam to Morthal, mostly dressed in Iron or Steel Armour .

"Sire send us, we are to provide extra manpower to Morhtal!" Ashav exclaimed

"About time!" shouted Ralondir!

"VIGGAS, BRING IN SOME GUYS" shouted Ralnodir.

" Alright, I want half of your guys to head to the barracks, the other half will come with us to end this mercenary camp..

===========
13TH OF MIDYEAR
Mercenary Camp

" What's the plan?" Ashav asked

" Simple" replied Ralnodir Grabbing a map of the region

' Your men move to the right, and ambush them in there convey, my men will enter the camp and rush them " stated Ralnodir

"Now?" asked Ashav

" Yes,, now.. " Replied Ralnodir

Both parties then went to positions, before they slowly preceded to their positions

The plan went out a hitch, Ashavs troops quickly eliminated the convey of supplies and other reniforcements, while the camp was slaughtered by Ralnodir's troops

" GOOD, ALRIGHT!, MOVE OUT " shouted Ralondir, has he moved away from the dead bodies