The Legate took the message from the Bosmer and smiled triumphantly "Deliver the Empires thanks to your keeper." He turned to the messenger "Report back to the Governor millitant" The Legate turned his head over his shoulders to one of the officers "Take a small number of troops, a dozen or so, to help the Keepers clansmen to halt the trade from the south."
"As you wish, sir" The Nord said, snapping a salute before rushing off to conduct his orders. Meanwhile, the Legate continued to march on.

They arrived at the Thalmor encampment and noticed it appeared to be a medical center for any who had been injured by the bosmer in the woods, as well as a major border checkpoint. From what he had gathered from the Bosmer, this major base was crucial to the Thalmor war effort, housing craftsmen and the like.
There was no honour in killing the wounded, sick or crafters. But if he drove them away... As soon as the Thalmor learnt a major medical centre had been razed, moral would be hit again for sure. Severely wounded men could rarely be treated on the battlefield, they usually has to be sent away. For him this was easy, these were the lands of the bosmer, virtually all of whom would help the Imperials who were helping them fight off the Thalmor... If he razed this base and captured the healers the Thalmor would either need to ship more in from the Sommerset isle or send the severely wounded back to the isle... Neither of which would be good for them, especially now the largest docks were occupied and the Imperial Navy had taken control of Elven ships, meaning that the Elves would first have to break the naval vessels that was positioned off Valenwood to do so.
This Campaign was going excellent... The legate could almost smell victory and his men were in excellent spirits. The Thalmor had suddenly found themselves in hostile territory, arrows whizzing down at them from people they had thought subdued while the Imperials secured the coast to cut off reinforcements, with an allied army of Bosmer and Empire travelled around Valenwood, targeting strategic positions. Altmer supremacy had just been slapped, and the Legate was certain the moral of the Altmer had suffered as a result of the combination of the above...
How long until they surrendered then, that was the Question...

Elsweyr

The Imperial Administration just released a paper detailing reasons why Elsweyr should remain with the Empire. Most prominent among these was
- Protection from external threats such as the Aldmeri dominion through the garrison of legionaries and fortifications, and the guarantee of support when we are in need. One should not forget the supply of Imperial arms and armour that were given free of charge to help our revolutionaries fight off the Thalmor
-Higher income due to the free trade laws in state with the other states of the Empire, in addition to the freedom to trade with whoever we please, as well as the ability to create and edit our laws at will, so long as they don't conflict with Capital laws such as murder and treason, or go against moral values such as the abolition of slavery
-Protection of Khajiit and our customs from discrimination throughout the Empire shows that the Imperials respect us. Other cultures may mot tolerate this, and an independent Elsweyr would be more open to invasion and could have its culture abolished by its new occupiers
-Freedom from slavery is enforced under the Empire, and as the Empire protects us we are safe from the slavery imposed on our ancestors by races in the past which might wish to invade and enslave us
-Independence threatens the fragile stability Elsweyr has, which is carefully maintained by our friends in the Empire. As shown by recent events, we are easily fractured and brought to the brink of war, but the Emprie has stepped in to try and find a peaceful resolution to the conflict rather than going to war
-The Empire has been instrumental in saving Tamriel from chaos for Era's, and once the Empire fell Tamriel descended into wars. Staying with the Empire will help to reverse this damage, while leaving it will only further Tamriels problems

My bosmer clan was at the edge of the forest waiting fit the legate forced to join them planning to stay as high up as possible for whatever battle comes with their so called blockade. The bosmer with the legate at the moment left them alone, under the green pact if they make a kill they eat it and unfortunately they couldn't eat much more as a new set of bosmer archers came to join them they would never rush breaking the green pact for anyone. As the new exchange of archers came as quick as possible. I myself was at the great tree sighing loudly long at the sky in contemplation hoping I was doing the right thing in this Damn war

Oravos the Nerevarine
Grand Conference Hall, New Vivec

Oravos stood at the porch connected to the room, entertaining himself by staring at the glimmering sky above. There was a meeting going on, but he excused himself from it, to let the Grand Councillors debate with each other without him holding back their opinions. News of the Imperials further advance against the Thalmor and the death of the Mane reached his chambers recently, resulting the meeting that he had to attend today.

"I think its best if you just reveal yourself... the councilors are too busy arguing to take notice of you." He says suddenly, since he felt a presence on the roof above him. Soon as he finish saying his words, a figure drops down on the space beside him, landing on a kneeling position and remains that way as he continues to speak with Oravos. "We have already executed all of the Imperial loyalists within the Armiger's ranks, the men are currently waiting for further orders." says the kneeling Dunmer. "Excellent, is there anything else?" Oravos responded. "Yagrum Bagarn's work is finished, the only thing left is for you to inspect it Muthsera." The kneeling Dunmer replies. "I'll see to it later, have the men ready, the instructions of your next task is written inside." says Oravos while handing a small scroll to the agent. After receiving the scroll, the figure exits by casting a spell on himself which made him vanish into thin air. As fate might have destined it, a servant opens the door leading to the porch, right after the agent had left.

"Muthsera, the Councillors have reached an agreement, and would like to hear your approval." A servant says, prompting Oravos to return back to the meeting.

---- A few hours later ----

Molag Volen, Vvardenfell

The meeting ended shortly after Oravos joined back in, giving him enough time to visit Molag Volen before midnight comes. Upon entering the hidden stronghold an unfamilliar sight welcomed him, the place was now filled with huge golems patrolling its halls, as if they were the new residents to Dagoth Ur's former lair. The constructs now residing inside was seen to be somewhat sentient in a way as they can determine which is friend from foe, and especially who it's masters are. The golems were massively built but were surprisingly agile than what they appear to be. They were able to respond to Oravos' presence within a few seconds from the other end of the hall, which would normally take them at least a minute, given by their size. A mage can easily notice that these constructs also contained magicka within them, since every crevice of the joints and cracks trickled a portion of the magicka in the form of molten rocks.

"They're like the Atronachs, but has more power than three of those combined." says Neloth while walking towards his king who was currently standing on the center of the entrance hall. "Yagrum Bagarn is in the main forge, preparing Azarkan." Neloth says, knowing that he would want to know where the Dwemer is. "Lead me to him then, I want to see the one that will lead these golems into the battlefield." Oravos replied as he began walking. The journey to the main forge was short, but was extremely unpleasant mainly because it was found deep below the volcano where the walls and ceilings were breached during the Red Year.

"I've placed the soul gem like you've told me to, but I'm not sure if the body is capable of containing the power once its alive" says Yagrum while he skitters slowly towards a rune that was engraved on Azarkan's chest. "Once I'm done with this, we're even, alright?" Yagrum Bagarn added before signalling Neloth to cast the rune, lighting up the metallic construct to life. The golem began to spark and shake while the hearthstone inside began to pulsate, giving life into the finest golem constructed for Oravos. Streams of lava began to flow on the carvings on its metallic carapace, while its crystal like eyes flickered red. Its chest began to grow a crystalline material, covering the place where the rune was once located, signalling that the procedure is coming to an end. Once the golem stopped shaking and sparking, a long drag of steam came out from its mouth, which was followed shortly by a deep but hollow voice.

"I...live...to...serve.. my master..."

Summit of Balfiera

“What you say is most definitely true, however full of emotional sentiment it is. How long I have dreamt of a united and powerful High Rock like the days of High King Emeric-”

“No doubt under your rule.” Narcisse interrupted King Ferrand, earning a disapproving shake of the head from Frithjolf.

King Ferrand continued, “But unless my fellow rulers decide that a united High Rock is better than a mere pissing contest of strongest realm, we may never hope to be as powerful as we think we are. I have terms, as you may well expect there to be, but I am willing to offer my help in return for support from the Ruby Throne.”

“Your plays for power are growing more obvious in your old age, King Ferrand.” Beralt looked at Ferrand with a wary gaze, “How am I to know that you don’t aim to strip all power from your fellow rulers and seize High Rock for yourself and your throne?”

“Because it would be foolish. I am a Bellemont, not a Tharn, not a tyrant. I rule my people well and the Lords under me are more than happy under my rule. Your power will be uncontested in your own realm, but these petty border skirmishes, these secret pirate raids,” Ferrand shook his head and clenched his jaw, “The High Rock my family knew is gone because of a few rulers who can not see, their crowns slipping over their eyes.”

“Complete and utter-”

“Enough!” Frithjolf stood and interrupted Narcisse, hard knuckles colliding with hard wood, “Ferrand is the strongest among us, his throne grants him the most power, this is true. But with a strong Kingdom comes a heavier crown. Perhaps your crown has been blocking your eyes for so long that you’ve become blind to your own greed and lust for power. A united High Rock is not what you want, a High Rock that bends knee to High King Ferrand Bellemont is.”

“And a Nord knows of Breton politics?” Narcisse sneered.

“A Reachman is among us, why not a Nord?” Frithjolf gestured to Ambrose, who nodded, “Do you think us all with brains of ice? No space in our head to spare for thoughts, only blood and violence? Great men have been Nords. Tiber Septim- the great Talos Stormcrown, your ancestor! Whatever Northern blood echoes from the past to you should tell you that my words are true.”

“And what would be the golden days under your rule, King Frithjolf? What would be different should you be High King of High Rock instead of King Ferrand? What about the Reachman?” Narcisse stood and threw a gesturing hand at Ambrose, who scowled with gritted teeth, “Why not prop up the Witch-Pirate from the Heathen Reach?”

“Silence!” King Ferrand’s voice boomed throughout the hall, “Let Emperor Gaius speak. At the end of the day, High Rock is part of the Empire and we all lend ear when an Emperor speaks. I hope that all of you as well as he will hear what I have to say.”

=

The plains around Wayrest
14th of Midyear
Brother Everard III of Wayrest

Everard stepped over to the messenger boy being held at swordpoint and secured with a knife to his throat by Brothers Mathieu and Vicens. He wore his cocky, jovial smile as he knelt beside the sitting, shivering messenger boy. They’d caught the lad when they’d run into his path on the road or, well, his bodyguards’ paths. The men were easy enough to kill, Brother Daenlen was always quick with his arrows and well enough they were held at a standstill for the Bosmer by Brother Montyard, always the best at becoming other men- and women on a few occasions, but that is an entirely other story.

“Do what you will, boy, I’m a servant to King Ferrand Bellemont.” The messenger boy said.

“’Boy?’,” Everard smiled, looking to the two men with blades trained and held to the boy, respectively, “Why, I wouldn’t think you two summers older than I, and you’re young! Twenty, maybe. I know who you work for, ponce, I could see it on that crest on your saddle, the badge on your fine silk robes and the way I smelled your perfume from a mile off.”

“Are you going to kill me?” The Messenger asked, eyes flitting from Everard to Mathieu and the other men around, particularly the huge orc.

“People don’t usually get paid for ransoming dead bodies, now do they?” Everard stood and rubbed his chin, “Just a servant, boy?”

“Aye, a messenger.” The boy said.

“And what message makes it so you need six armed sergeants to die while playing soldier for a day and having to put up with you, hm?” Everard asked.

“It’s a secret. Royal eyes only.” The Messenger grumbled.

“These eyes here are pretty royal, if you’re to believe it.” Everard smiled, raising an eyebrow, “And you might want to believe it, because letting these royal eyes see it would be much more comfortable for you. Brother Vilhalm is good at making people tell secrets.”

“I would never succumb to torture! You hear me and heed these words,” Everard shrugged, “I will never divulge these secrets to anyone but my great Ki-ach! Urch!”

“It always surprises me how much trauma a neck needs to make sure a person’s dead.” Everard nodded before quickly ripping away a piece of his tunic underneath the leather armor and stopping a stream of crimson before it touched the fine robes of the messenger boy.

“Brother Montyard?” Everard called over his shoulder.

The young man came, still dressed in the trappings of a knight bearing the crest of Daggerfall although it made him walk a bit awkward under the weight, “Brother Everard?”

“How would a trip to Daggerfall sound? Even a place in the King’s castle on behalf of our friend here?” Everard asked, a raised eyebrow.

“I’d like it very much. I needed a vacation from all of this traipsing around in the plains with you lot,” The young man chuckled, eliciting laughs from the rest of the Brothers, even Brother Barzgur, “When do I leave?”

Everard stripped the messenger of his silk robes and cloth traveling cloak and threw the items to Montyard, “Dress the part and you can leave whenever you’d like. Promise me you’ll write.”

“I do.” Montyard went to work stripping off his armor.

Ferrand would receive his message as expected but the messenger would be a little different.

Ab'Farahn stood over a map in the old fort... He examined the map carefully before pointing at a town near Corinthe and turning to Captain Ta'fel. "Here!" Ab'Farahan said "If we conquer this town, we can turn it into an outpost and take it's supplies to aid our cause. Then, when we are ready, we can attack Corinthe, and take it back."
"Hmmm..." Replied Ta'fel
"What is it, Ta'fel?"
"Ta'fel is not sure if that town will have the supplies we need. Also, it doesn't seem like the kind of place we can fortify... Ta'fel has been there a while back..."
"What do you suppose we do then?"
"Far west of Corinthe, over the hills, There is a small village, with a stone wall. It is out of the way and not many know about it. The Southern forces have not yet taken it, as they don't know about it. We can fortify it without the worry of enemy attacks... At least for now..."
"Hmmm... Who do you think the villagers are in favour of? North or South?"
"Ta'fel does not know. It's possible the village has mixed views, or perhaps they do not favour anyone."
"Well... Ab'Farahn supposes it is a better idea... Alright. We shall head there first thing tomorrow. Thank you Ta'fel. You are dismissed."
Ab'Farahn escorted Ta'fel out of the room and locked the door behind him. Ab'Farahn took one last look at the map and then nodded. He moved over to the door on the other side of the room and opened it. That room was his quarters. He then moved towards the bed and lay down. He tried to sleep, but he couldn't. He couldn't forget that he had let his Mane die. People gave him looks all the time. People thought he was a disgrace. But not all of them. Some, such as Ta'fel and the majority of the Northern forces, respected him and would follow him into battle. They knew it was not his fault. He was not there to save the Mane. There is no way he could change that. He then thought to himself as he drifted of to sleep, 'Perhaps the bandits, were behind this. Perhaps, they killed the Mane to start a rebellion. Either way, Ab'Farahn is going to find out. Ab'Farahn will do whatever it takes to avenge the Mane'.

Summit

The Emperor ran his eyes along the chamber, and the general to his side, leant back in his chair and sighed, shaking his head. When at last, thanks to King Ferrand, a break came in the bickering the Emperor spoke up "There are packs of berserking Orcs with better cohesion..." He mumbled, before raising his voice and speaking normally "King Ferrand is right when he says that unless you decide upon a united High Rock you will always be weak. You are the political laughing stock of Tamriel and now I see why. All of Tamriel is threatened by slavery and death by the mere existence if the Aldmeri dominion, and instead of doing anything to stop it you are here fighting to decide who can yell the loudest." He paused, this summit was hardly going the way he had hoped. Two parties didn't even turn up, and the one which did was so divided one had to wonder whether it wouldn't just be better to give them each a sword and tell them to settle it "Why is it so hard to just agree on something. Skyrim does it, they have the nine Jarls, thus meaning a great number then you, and they elect a high king, so why can't High Rock decide on a high king? Though seeing you, I suppose everyone would just vote for themselves, wouldn't they? Even when Tiber Septim invaded, the kingdoms couldn't make their minds up nor work together, and one by one they each fell. Do you want to have as much claim to fame as most of your ancestors, slipping into the recess of history as a footnote due to their incessant wars and none progress? Or would you want to be remembered as the rulers of High Rock who at last managed to unify High Rock? At the end of the day it won't matter which one of you can pretend to be incharge, because you'll all be bending knee to the Elves. As all ways your lack of a central pillar, a proper king who you will all obey, is holding you back. I hate to interfere in local politics, but if this is all High Rock has for a political scene then I might just have to before you're bickering as skeletons as foreign forces march over your lands and put your people to the sword. You think Hammerfell might not try? Or the Aldmeri? Skyrim? Is that what you want, or ar you finally going to get your act together, get a high king and sort out this mess of a nation?" The Emperor said, his right hand placed against his forehand in frustration. He had come North to gather aid against the Thalmor. Nearly nobody showed up, and those who did had managed to side track it to their own little game of intrigue. Unbelievable.

Valenwood

The Legion Forces brought forward their archers, setting alight their arrows and aiming towards the Thalmor encampment "Men of Cyrodiil! Of High Rock! Of the Snow and the Sand! Khajiit of Elsweyr! Argonians of the Black Marsh! Elves of the ash, the wood and the Isle! Many of you have lost the futures you deserved, taken 36 years ago in the great war! Those of you of the provinces who have since left us were driven from your homed by your alientated support for the Empire, support for your brothers! Before us today, lie the so called Aldmeri Dominion who pride themselves in the destruction of your lives, your homes, your friends and families and your countries! Do we forgive them? No! We shall destroy their precious dominion, show them that our hearts will not be limited by their laws, that we want to be free to worship whatever gods we choose, whatever ways of life we abide by! Let them see our fires as they reign down from above, an reckoning from an angel of death! Launch arrows!" He commanded, and the burning arrows soared through the night sky like shooting stars, and beside them the battle mages tossed their spells of fire and death towards the Thalmor encampment. Many were rudely awakened from their sleep by the yells of their watchmen and the cackling of fires. Horses neighed as the Equites rode through, tossing burning torchs onto their buildings and swiping at the heads of the Thalmor. The disorientated Thalmor were no match for the vicious Equites, and Justicair and Mage reeled from sword stroke before many had even readied their weapons. Then the Equites rode back again, and the Thalmor began to reorganise, as the mages tried to douse the flames of their burning camp
"Archers, Bosmer, loose your arrows upon the Thalmor, bring their mages down, quickly! Legionaries prepare your selves, form your lines and hold your ground, they think we're a bigger force than we actually are! Battlemages, continue to lay waste to their buildings, Equites, prepare for another charge!" The Legate ordered, yelling orders as loud as he could to his forces. With some luck, the Thalmor would surrender soon... This was mainly a medical and forfing encampment, there were wounded and civilians and the Legate had no doubt that not even the Thalmor would be able to put up a resistance for that long, facing a larger force while risking your wounded friends burning alive. No, he expected a surrender shortly...

Force movements

With the reports of werewolf attacks having all but disappeared, the forces who were sent up to Cheydinhal begin their march south to meet up with their fellow legions

The bosmer did the same technique as last time and jumped from tree to tree making sure to kill the dangerous mages raining down arrows on them making sure to kill the mages before they could retaliate. Once the mages were dealt with the bosmer to jumping on the trees again to avoid fire from the archers and making sure to kill any mages they see.
In the west of vallenwood one if the clans was waiting on their imperial allies to lead them to the area of embargo although they have been to kahjit territory they have never done a full embargob to those that are meant to be their allies.
in the north a small group of wood elves started their journey to the next town to sell the fur and bones we had to offer them. Now with most of the clans occupied we had to rely on the imperial to keep vallenwood from total harm and being defenseless as the smaller clans were seeing up camp where the previously docked altmer ships were to help guard it

Morag Tong Master Arvyn Sarandras
The Ashen Refuge, Balmora

Not long after the eruption of the Red Mountain during the Red Year, a wealthy businessman named Varona Hlaalu established the chain of inns named "The Ashen Refuge" to cater to the tastes of the Dunmer refugees all across Tamriel. The series of inns served all sorts of Dunmer delicacies that were almost impossible to find the ingredients for, making the inns a place not only for the targeted Dark Elf customers, but also for rich citizens that are attracted by the exclusivity of the dishes they serve. After the return of the Nerevarine, ownership over the series of inns was turned over to the government of Morrowind, turning the inns into an unofficial embassy on the province they are located at, while maintaining the services they offer. The sudden take over of the Morrowind officials was treated with suspicions at first, but when rumors of the Morag Tong's involvement came up, public investigations slowly came to a halt.

"Any reports from the agents we've sent?" Arvyn asked, while looking a map of Tamriel spread across the table before him. "The agents arrived at the cities they were assigned to, we should receive their reports soon sera" says one of the Dark Elves standing inside the room with Arvyn. "Excellent, our king would be pleased to hear this." Arvyn says while marking some of the cities on the map.

Orsinium
Instead of a group of Dark Elves, several Orsimer blacksmiths filled the Ashen Refuge in Orsinium, all recruited by the agent sent from Morrowind. Under the promise of riches and the high recognition, the blacksmiths pledged their services to Oravos, hoping that their acts would eventually improve the reputation of the Orcs to the Mer.

Valenwood
The Ashen Refuge in Valenwood was almost unscathed from the conflicts that occurred recently inside the once peaceful Bosmer city, but weren't spared from the Imperial legion's inspections. The imperial legionnaires had every right to inspect the place though, as the inn was actually keeping wounded Altmer officials secretly. Upon the arrival of the agent from Morrowind, an agreement was reached to transport the officials covertly back to the Summerset Isles. The agreement was mostly in favor of the Dark Elves, but to be offered a chance to live for another day freely, even a the High Elves couldn't let it pass.

Cyrodiil
Several days after the arrival of the agent sent to Cyrodiil, Imperial patrols along the highway leading to the east began to go missing. Little evidence about the patrol's whereabouts were found, while rumors of a cult kidnappings continued to spread among the citizens who were desperate to have an answer.

---

Oravos the Nerevarine
Royal Study Room, New Vivec

"Muthsera, someone wishes to give you a letter." says one of the Sentinel guards assigned outside the room. "I think I made myself clear not to be disturbed..." Oravos says to the guard who almost didn't hear it through the thick stone the door was made of. "The letter was written in Akaviri my king..." The guard says lowly, not intending to alert the other guards outside. Oravos' sighed upon hearing what the guard said then spoke. "Bring it inside."

The guard entered and traversed through the several books and parchments all scattered inside the room, before placing the letter on Oravos' table. "I want all of the Grand Councilors present inside the capital, am I understood?" Oravos says while holding the letter with his left hand. "Yes muthsera." The guard replies. "You're free to leave, and call for one the bought this message wait outside." Oravos added before hearing the door shut.

Oravos placed the letter near his face, smelling the parchment thoroughly. The paper reeked of the scent of the sea, which alarmed him as he opens it and reads its contents. At first he felt somehow relieved that the letter came from a former ally in the east, but his relief soon came to be replaced with conflicting feelings as he finished reading the letter. In his mind, his effort to change the fate of Morrowind can finally come into fruition, but in a way that he never expected.

Taking a piece of paper on his desk and an inked quill, Oravos began writing his reply.

Abasi-Kil

I'm not surprised that you've finally reached the rank of high general, I knew that they would take notice of your exceptional skills soon enough, you deserve it. I appreciate your offer of friendship, but as the Nerevarine and King of Morrowind, I cannot simply side myself and my people to your kingdom, without discussing the terms of this friendship you offer. I wish for us to meet to discuss this further, as representatives of our people and in the honor of our previous alliance.

---

Taking the letter with him outside, he hands it over to the Ka Po' Tun disguised as a Khajiit, along with a small pouch of gold. After a guard escorts Adi Tuah away from the royal canton, he turns to one of the Sentinels beside him and says. "Inform Lord Ildoryn that I'll be going to meet him in Mournhold."

Various Nation capitals
Various Argonian Messengers
15th of Midyear, 4E 205

---

Throughout the nations of Tamriel, a number of the Argonian Shadowscales had made their way to the capital cities of each state, either under disguise or in complete isolation and stealth. They had been instructed to wait until noon of the 15th day of Midyear, before approaching the guard captain of each hold with a single parchment of paper: stamped with the seal of Black Marsh.

Like Clockwork, the Argonains simultaneously appeared before the guards: be they eating, paroling or sleeping. The fearsome Shadowscales were not ones to be deterred by anything as simple as a roof or a locked door.. Each announced their presence with a clearing of the throat and the bowing of the head: despite the fact that no Argonian assassin would be caught without a knife's hilt in their palms: should the guards attack before thinking.

One by one, the argonians left the notes in the hands of the Guard-captains, sure to deliver the message to Man and Mer alike, with only the broken Khajit being left off of the agenda. No doubt the mangy cats would be too busy clawing at scraps of desert and yarn, as opposed to speaking with the Argonians.

Having dropped off the note, each Argonian would call upon their birthright and vanish from sight. The ways of the shadowscale were mysterious, but none could doubt their skill. Everything was an orchestrated plan: both as a show of skill as well as an invitation to the leaders of each nation.

Argonian invitation

As a representative is already on his way (Albiet with the wrong deadline in mind), the Empire does not send a second. ((He'll arrive once people pay attention to it all...))
Possibly to the chagrin of the Argonians,several copies of the letter are given to a messenger who is set to ride down to Elsweyr over the coming days to deliver it. Elsweyr is part of the Empire, and given the current split in the population the Empire is determined to get as many of them as possible on his side, ensuring they are treated as well as they possibly can be by the Empire

Force Movements

As news of missing patrols spread, the forces do a U-turn and begin to head back towards Cheydinhal, this time not on the look out for werewolves but for "Cults". Perhaps more appropriately than the reinforcements returning once again was the opening of an official inquiry and investigation into the missing patrols. The patrols are now given horses and pilum, and an emergency law is put into place, giving the patrols permission to use their weapons should anyone come within ten foot, and patrols are tripled in number from one man to three. Of course, many would rather use use their weapons to drive people away rather than attacking innocent civilians. Forces are dispatched to search the nearby caves and houses inspected for evidence, the natural border of the mountains is said to rule out the possibility of extra-national incursion. The act of "Ghost patrols", as it has been dubbed by one of the officers attending the secret meetings, is quietly being considered as a viable strategy.

Argonian invitation

" Lord Jartod, The Argonians have invited us to a.. summit "

" A summit? Intreasting... very well "

"Call Balgruuf to head to the summit messenger "

" Yes, Sire "

Jartod seemed pretty neutral about this summit, on his agenda he wanted to avoid the imperial rule and avoid Thalmor, but he also looked to the east of him.. Orsinium. Jartod knew that the orcs were often hard to persuade.. he focused on trying to make a bond , a possible bond between them to strengthen there relationship but also make a northern military alliance.

A shady shadowly figure walked in, the figure removed a hood from her head, to reveal to be a dark elf women.

" I presume you called be? "

" Riften treating you well Radsie? "

" Heh' , our new home is nice m'lord "

" I got a new task for you, tell Anurasha of the Brotherhood to grab four trusted people to head to Black Marsh , with the envoy , I'll supply you gold for the mission ahead, while you two will report to me on all the movements of the leaders and diplomats of this summit.. it'll be interesting .. remember to stay in the dark at all times.. "

" Yes sire "

The figure went out into thin air

Jartod sat back on the throne, the guards seemed to return to there normal state

The Old Fort

"Sir, a messenger is here." one of the guards told Ab'Farahn as he opened the door to the operation planning room. Ab'Farahn, who was again standing over the map, turned to the guard. "What is it? From who?" Ab'Farahn asked.
"The Empire" the guard replied
"Hmm... What's it about?"
"Guard doesn't know sir, the messenger is at the gate"
"Ah. Follow me..."
Ab'farahn walked on the wall above the gate and turned to look over at the messenger. "What is it?" He asked.
"A message from the Empire, a copy of an invitation to the Argonian summit! The Argonians didn't want the Khajiit to come!" He replied.
"Pass it through the gate!"
"Why? You don't trust the Empire?"
"No... Ab'farahn can't trust YOU... Just to stay on the safe side... Ab'farahn has nothing against you or the Empire personally. Pass it through."
"Whatever you say." The messenger replied as he passed the message through the gate.
One of the guards brought the up to Ab'farahn. "Farewell." Ab'farahn said to the messenger.
"And to you." He replied.

Ab'farahn opened the message. It read:
To the lords and ladies of the Empire

As you are reading this note: no doubt it would seem that each of you is now aware of my returned Shadowscales. The formerly repressed order has been reinstated and the Argonian power of Black Marsh is on the rise. As with all great nations, we strive for the greatest we can achieve: and no great nation can achieve alone. Without trade and without cooperation, there can be no great advancement.

As such, Rules-With-Claws, the lord of Argonia,and unifier of the denizens of Black Marsh, invites you to the city of Stormhold on the 22nd of Midyear, under the parlay of peace and negotiation. Argonia remains a nuetral land and we wish to hear all offers. The agenda of both Men and Mer can allign with the free people of Black Marsh. May strong alliances be formed on the back of this summit.

Signed, Rules-With-Claws
Lord of the Black Marsh and master of Argonia.

"Hmm..." Ab'farahn grinned and giggled quietly "Didn't want the Khajiit to come... Who do they think they are... And to think Elsweyr and Blackmarsh used to be friends..."
Ab'farahn walked back to operations planning room. "Ab'farahn hopes Ta'fel can get to that town soon."

Far west of Corinthe, in the village of Calarin

Although Ta'fel and his men had encountered several groups of bandits and Southern patrols, they climbed the obstacles and were victorious, although they had lost a few men. The reason it was such an achievment to be victorious is because Ta'fel only had 8, now 6, men with him, and there was at least a dozen of bandits and Southern forces at each encounter. They had finnally arrived at Calarin... Ta'fel was trying to persuade them to join the northern forces...
"No, we want know part in the war!" One of the villagers, a male, shouted.
"Please, listen to me our concern is your safety and the safety of Elsweyr, but to keep Elsweyr stable and happy, we need to eliminate the Southern rebellion and to do that we need to occupy and fortify Calarin!" Ta'fel pleaded.
"If we stay out of the war then no harm will come to us!" Another villager, a female, shouted.
"That is not true! The southern forces will come, and they will burn your villages down!" Ta'fel lied, spreading propaganda "And harm will come to the rest of Elsweyr! Have you seen what the Southern forces did to the town of Takar?! They burnt it to the ground!"
"We don't believe you!" The male shouted.
"It's true..." Said a quiet voice from the corner "The southern forces will come and they will destroy us! It is true! They destroyed Takar and killed everyone there! And Takar had nothing to do with the Northerners."
"Who are you?! A loyal pisspot to the Northerners?!" The female asked.
"No... J'Dato is my name. J'Dato's father was Ri'Dato... The man in charge of Takar. The Mayor, or count, J'Dato supposes, if you want to call him that. They burnt Takar down and killed everyone except for J'Dato. J'Dato escaped. Atleast, J'Dato believes he is the only survivor..."
"How do we know you are telling the truth?" Asked the male.
"Because of this..." J'Dato pulled out the crest of Dato Takar. An ancient crest, from the ancient bloodline that kept Takar running for at least the last Era. It was always locked in a secret vault that only the Datos knew of. It was charred and burnt. "This is proof of who J'Dato is, and what happened to Takar. J'Dato says that we side with the Northerners before the Southerners do the same to us! Who is with me!"
The small crowd roared, and everyone got to work fortifying the village and making it's wall even stronger.
"J'Dato..." Called Ta'fel "Come with Ta'fel please."
"Alright"
They moved outside of the village.
"Was it the Southern forces that actually did that?" Ta'fel asked.
"Yes... I'm sure!.." Replied J'Dato.
"Ta'fel is sorry... But Ta'fel thanks you for your aid, and so will Ab'Farahn, and Ta'fel is sure the next Mane will too... For now, can Ta'fel trust you to look after this village?"
"J'Dato doesn't have to... But J'Dato will..."
"Thank you J'Dato... Men! Stay here! Protect the village! I shall head back to the fort and give Ab'Farahn the good news!"
Ta'fel rode of towards the fort.
J'Dato sighed and thought to himself, One day, this will all be over, and maybe Elsweyr will be at peace again. J'Dato couldn't stop thinking about how no one told him what stars he was born under. Maybe they told him his destiny... He believed strongly that there was hardly a chance he could be the Mane, and he didn't want to be the Mane anyway, but he knew that something to do with the stars he was born under was suspicous. Maybe, he was born under a curse, maybe it told his destiny, or maybe it told a secret that he needed to uncover. Anyway, it wasn't important right now. J'Dato turned around, and looked at the villagers working to strengthen themselves for the greater good. Smiths making weapons, builders fortifying the defences and farmers gathering food for all. He thought for a minute how beutiful it was, but it just brought back painful memories of Takar... He moved into the village and helped out in anyway he could.

Ynslea

---

Adi Tuah returned just in time, actually, he completed his journey few days earlier than expected. He carried with him a heavyset pouch full of clinging coins, likely rewards from the Nerevarine. In addition, he carried a letter, written in Tamrielic. The letter changed hands under the blackened veil of the night, upon reaching his private quarters, general Abasi-Kil tore through the envelope eagerly and began his response. This time, the general wrote in Tamrielic. Although his Tamrielic was nothing too spetacular, Abasi felt that it would be courteous to write in Oravo's native language.

Oravos

It is well that the memories of our past did not leave you. Indeed, how could I forget the instance when we slayed four dremoras togeather? It had been years since we have last met, and today, we have much to discuss. Let us meet on the island of Kiryat, off the coast of Morrowind. I will be there in person, along with several of my aides. I presume that you would understand the importance of such a meeting, therefore, you would undoubtedly share my invitation with no one other than your most trusted.

Before the break of dawn, Adi Tuah had once again raised his enchanted sails. Not shortly after, a trio of grand Akaviri ships followed, in the same waters to the west...

Argonian Invitation, 15th of Mid Year

King Ferrand Bellemont is the first to receive his message, first from one of the Captains of the Guard in Daggerfall and then from a messenger and his escort bearing his crest coming from the direction of Wayrest. In response, he tasks the same guards formerly attached to the protection of the messenger to act as his guards on their journey to Black Marsh. Everard III of Wayrest has also gained his ticket to the hearings there through this and he and his Brothers-in-Arms have incidentally come under the service to King Ferrand unbeknownst to him. Everard III wants to have eyes and ears among the other monarchs of High Rock and Tamriel as a whole during this Summit.

==========
Tamrielic Gazette: "The finest reports read by kings and emperors, since 2E 137."

Loredas, 28th of Midyear, 4E 205.In this fine week, our journalists traveled far and wide to bring you these news.

Cyrodiil: Due to your recent policies and laws enacted after the suspicions of a Cult abducting legionnaires from the roads, a few citizens sprinkled around each city have begun to whisper in ill-will and distrust towards the Legion, very few shaking fists at Gaius himself. On the other end of the spectrum, most tend to either go about their daily lives in the status quo or to offer a word of support to the Legion and a word of argument to those speaking out against what they see as an overblown act of paranoia at what might just be bandits, as far as they know.

Consider your populace 60% in favor of your actions, 20% indifferent, and 20% showing varying levels of dislike and distrust for the Triarius Dynasty.

Skyrim: Anti-Jartod minor chieftains have mustered forces around Helgen and and Falkreath and are using them as hideouts to block any land trade coming in through the Jeralls through those paths. Consider dealing with them immediately lest poverty strikes in Falkreath Hold.

Expect moderate resistance from poorly-trained, ragtag brigands.

Southern Elsweyr & Black Marsh: Taking advantage of the recent chaos in Elsweyr, a local pirate has taken to prowling the waters around Senchal and Soulrest, sacking many trade boats and ferries coming to and from the cities. Cyrodiilic sea-trade is not as affected, as the pirates seem to steer clear of the large merchant ships taking goods to the Imperial City. Some fishermen and locals from both cities take this as a sign that these are Imperial Privateers in their waters, whereas some just think they like to keep violent confrontation to a minimum, only preying on the weak.

Northern Elsweyr: Like their cousins on the waves, bands of brigands have been spotted sacking caravans and small villages along the border between Pelletine and Anequina, taking advantage of the discord sewn by the Civil War and gaining much plunder. They've already sacked a few caravans coming from other nations holding arms and armor and are growing increasingly bold as their equipment becomes more high quality and their numbers grow.

Valenwood: Dominion Loyalists have been offering minor resistance to Pro-Imperial forces around the jungles near Southpoint. Small skirmishes are all that has happened so far. Consider putting Valenwood under Martial Law with the help of the Empire to stamp out the resistance quickly but sacrifice public image of the Keeper, or continue with the course of action of scouring the jungle while taking losses to morale and casualties to troops but keep the status quo for civilians.

High Rock: Warbands from the Crow-Wife clan come from the Reach to Wayrest, searching for the blood of Amber-Skin Who-Walks-Alone, or Pirate-Lord Ambrose Mackin. Trade caravans have been seized and either slaughtered or plundered. The Reachmen are indiscriminate, as they also have made incursions on other Kingdoms, namely Jehanna.

Hammerfell: Pirate-Lord Dupont is steadily gaining more ships from his raids and is rumored to have plans for a siege of Stros M’kai. Consider investigating these rumours.

The Argonian Invitation
Mournhold, Morrowind

"Whats this?" Oravos blurted out as Ildoryn suddenly drops a piece of paper on the tray table beside Oravos, who was currently reading through a book written in Old Bretic. "The Argonians have invited us to attend a summit, it would be the perfect time to demand reparations from their attacks." Ildoryn says before crossing his arms together. "Shadowscales... I've read a couple of books about them..." says Oravos before suddenly igniting his hands into flames, burning the invitation and eventually turning it into ashes. "I won't attend this meeting, I have more important things to do..."

Ildoryn stood dumbfounded for a couple of seconds, still letting what he just saw sink into his mind. "...but you will attend it in my place." Oravos added while taking out a golden seal, which represents the blessing of the King of Morrowind. "I know you'll do what you think is right for our people" he says before handing the seal over to Ildoryn.

---- Later ----

Ildoryn's safety wasn't taken for granted, even if he was to attend a simple peace meeting. A heavily armed dispatch from Oravos' personal guard was assigned to escort him, along with one of the armored silt striders that was used as a royal form of transportation. After a few hours of preparation, Ildoryn along with escorts traveled south, towards Stormhold.

---

Cyrodiil

The kidnappings continued further for a week, with the victims eventually becoming tax collectors, town marshals and even unsuspecting nobles, along the eastern front of Cyrodiil. The agents ceased all of their efforts on targeting the Imperial forces when suddenly the Imperial numbers doubled due to the rumors eventually concerning the high ranking officials. Investigations towards the kidnappings reaped no significant results, other than some passerby's seeing hooded figures striding along the streets in the towns at night, carrying their victims into the dark alleys before fading away from sight. With the increased amount of captives, the agents were forced to move to a different location, along with most of the kidnapped people, leaving the previous hideout behind with some of the least important captives still inside.

Alinor, Summerset Isles, Aldmeri Dominion.

Candles flickered dimly around a solid room with a heavy air in it. In the center was a large table which seemed to shimmer, even with the minimal light. Around it were many chairs and none of the people in those chairs looked particularly pleased. It was the third night in a row they had spent like this, and they supposed there would be many more. A brutish large man with a wolfs pelt draped over his shoulders cleared his throat, and broke the silence.

“Damned Imperials are pushing us farther and farther back in Valenwood. I heard we lost near 300 Aldmeri Ships in that damned Docking Incident. You lot know what I could have done for this Dominion given 300 ships..?”

Next a hard-faced woman spoke who seemed to have not but cruelty in her eyes. She was Altmer, and proudly displayed the sigil of the Thalmor on her cloak.

“Silence, Man. You would doubt your superiors over as minor a setback as this..?”

“MINOR?!” The goliath of a man roared, pounding a hand on the table.

“Silence.” Spoke Aelid, and though he spoke no louder than a common voice, the room immediately fell silent.

“I understand your concern, Wolfsbane. But I believe that is Lord Admiral Orthorn’s issue to deal with.” Aelid nodded to another Altmer sitting around the table, and he nodded. Aelid continued;

“Our Bosmer cousins would betray the Dominion to live as sheep under the rule of Man. This foolishness would weaken not only their own nation, but ours as well. Which is why we must do something about this.”

Now a man of more slender build spoke, and he appeared to be smoking a cigar of a brand called Old Red, which smoked the room. He had a thin face and a light facial hair, appearing in his forties.

“Valenwood is lost, My Grace. Order a full retreat so we may consolidate our men on the isles and plan our next move, prepare for a siege if we must. “

“You would leave my people to rot under Imperial Rule?!” Spoke a bosmer harshly; he wore light chainmail decorated with the sigil of the order of the eight. He sat nearest to Aelid, and appeared to be wearing the signature one-handed swore and dagger of their new infamous fighting style.

“Aelid’s Twin Blade Technique has barely been tested in large amounts in battle, other than our rebellion, and it seems fairly obvious we won that. Who’s to say it can’t win back Valenwood?”

The bosmer appeared pleased with himself, as the Lord Admiral nodded in agreement. Once more the Imperial man with the cigar spoke, gravely.

“It doesn’t matter any even if the Twin Blades DID work! We’ve been getting reports of massive Imperial Propaganda in Valenwood. The Bosmer don’t even WANT our Liberation!”

Aelid spoke now, and finished the matter.

“The Renshi are not to be used. Not yet. The Bosmer prefer their bows and trees, and the Twin Blade’s would fail in the forest. No, I would send a team of magistrates to perform counter-propaganda, exposing the Empire for what it really is! I would also send a squad of Battle-Mages from the Arcane Society to restore Aldmeri Dominance. I would ask that they would be accompanied by a Battalion from the Thalmor.”

The silence that came next was long, as the Thalmor woman from before wrestled with the idea. Instead, she proposed a new question.

“And what of the Argonian’s proposal for a meeting?

“I will set sail tomorrow. Luckily our superior ships will allow me to sail from here to Black Marsh without need to ever stop or lay anchor. Though it will be a very long trip.”

“Surely you jest, Your Grace. You would travel half a continent to speak to a race of barely sentient lizards?”

“I would indeed. The Khajjit of Elsweyr have betrayed the trust and friendship of the Aldmeri. It is my understand the Khajjit harbor no love of the Argonians. So, if Elsweyr would turn its back on us, let us see if Black Marsh is more accepting.”

“Allying with REPTILES!” She scoffed, and leaned back in her chair, almost amused by the conversation. Aelid spoke once more, hoping he could convince her of her support.

“Not only are this, the Dunmer relatively close to Black Marsh. Though they lay far away, perhaps they would pay us more heed than the Bosmer.”

At this, the Thalmor Justicar seemed indeed interested, as she hadn’t thought of help from their dark skinned relatives. She had only a minute or two of silence before standing up, and gracefully gliding out of the room. As she left, her voice trailed down the hallway.

“A single battalion!”

Aelid smiled.

Actions:
-Magistrates performing Pro-Aldmeri Propoganda
-Battle-Mages and Thalmor sent to restore Aldmeri Dominance.
-King Aelid and small company set sail for Argonia.

Off The Coast Of Valenwood
15th of Midyear, 4E 205

The Fearful Blade tacked hard against the current that was the Gold Coast waves. Occasional lightning bolts reached out at her from the Northern bank of Valenwood, where a group of Dominion altmer battlemages fought desperately to hold back High Captain Therdim's forces from landing on the shoreline of the fair woodlands.

"We would need to lose a score of men to each wizard downed, you claimed, if we were to have any chance," Temijen remarked to Khasta, who stood beside him on the rail. "But it would seem that High Captain Therdim has chosen his soldiers well."

Khasta let the sarcasm slip past as he, too, tried to get a better summation of the situation unfolding before them. Word by carrier pigeon had intercepted Temijen's retinue to the summit at Balfiera. Within it had been news and an opportunity that had been far too good to pass up. Apparently a rather large Imperial force had marched against the high elves forces in Valenwood mere days ago to push the Dominion out of Valenwood. Temijen had not heard of all the details, but apparently their former allies as well as the wood elves new friends in the empire were giving the Thalmor quite a hard time of it. Temijen couldn't imagine any sensible reason why the wood elves had given up the protection of the Aldmeri, but it mattered little, High Captain Therdim and the majority of the Yokudan had been docked in and around Stros M'kai waiting for just such an opportunity. Temijen had known the Altmer would react swiftly to incursions in their Valenwood holdings; thankfully he had been well prepared.

However, even with such a swift and unforeseen assault on what remained of them in the woodlands, the high elves were giving as well as they got. All along the shore line Yokudan war vessels were locked in a deadly back and forth with the few Altmer warships not captured by the imperials earlier. Flaming arrows on one side with return volleys of spell craft from the other. Parts of the bridge of their own ship were aflame, but the fries seemed to be gaining no real traction. Redguards though they may be, they were not without their own sorcery, as spellsword's of T'ozun’s fleet had brought forth waves of cooling frost to combat the fires.

One of the enemy mages on the shore had responded with an elemental atronach summoned up from the plane of oblivion, a creature of the earth, a collection of rock, mud, and grassy turf that seemed no more than a hillside come to life, sprouting arms of connected stone and dirt with boulder hands. It splashed into the shore to do battle, its magical consistency strong enough to keep the waters from washing its binding dirt away. The giant wasted little time in closing with the nearest Yokudan ship.

Lifting mighty arms above its head before bringing them down like battering rams against the ship’s hull. Smashing much of it to timber and forcing sailors to abandon ship into the icy waters. A trumpet sounded on the southern end of the shoreline as a few larger transport vessels closed with the shore. Stiff as the resistance was, it was obvious the few forces left to the Dominion in the region would never hold the the yokudan fleet's assault.

Great resounding cracks echoed across the waters as great ballista's tore great chunks out of the atronach giant. Soon the giant fell and shortly following a spark of some kind lite the sky above the shores. It took Temijen a moment to realize that it was in fact a signal of some kind. Another sweep of the skirmish hinted at its purpose. Two of the Dominion ships had burning sails, now crippled in the waters. The remainder were forced to pull away least the onslaught of Redguard warships over took them too.

It seemed the enemy, at least for the moment, were betting a fast retreat. Which left the northern coast of Valenwood wide open for a Redguard foothold, something much needed for what was to come. Temijen smiled, the first phase of his plan was going well thus far.

---

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

Kiainia saw the fireball coming, a little burning ball of flame, enticing as a candlelight, gentle and benign. She knew better, though, and knew, too, that she couldn't hope to get out of its explosive range. So she threw her shoulders back violently and kicked her feet out of in front of her, and didn't even try to break her fall as she slammed down on her back. She even resisted the urge to throw her arms out wide to somehow mitigate the fall, instead curling them over her face, hands grasping her cloak to warp it around her.

Even covered as she was with the wet clothing and cloak, the darkness flew away when the fireball exploded, and hot flames bit at Kiainia, igniting a thousand tiny fires in her body. It lasted only an instant, mercifully, and winked out as immediately as it had materialized. Kiainia knew she couldn't hesitate--the mage could strike at her again within the span of a few heartbeats, or if another altmer mage was inside the house, a second fireball might already be on its way.

She rolled sidelong away from her enemy to put out the little fires burning on her cloak and clothing, and even left the cloak smoldering on the ground when she leaped to her feet once more. Again Kiainia ran all out, leaning forward in complete commitment to her goal, a tight strand of palm trees. She dived in headlong, rolling to a sitting position and curling up, expecting another blast of Magicka.

Nothing happened.

Gradually, Kiainia uncoiled and looked back Dorio's way, to see the redguard still crouched in the muddied ground behind the damaged water trough. Dorio's mouthed the words. 'Is he gone?'

Kiainia mouthed back, 'His magicka depleted perhaps?'

Dorio shook his head--he didn't understand. Too much smoke between them now perhaps.

"He may be out of spells." The women called out quietly, and Dorio nodded enthusiastically--until a rumble from inside the distant house turned them both that way. Trailing a line of fire that charred the floorboards, it came through the open door, a great beast comprised entirely of flame: orange, red, yellow, and bright hot white when it swirled more tightly. It seemed vaguely bipedal, and-perhaps, slightly feminine. Kiainia knew it for what it was instantly; an atronach of fire from the hottest realms of oblivion.

Kiania sucked in her breath and lifted Skyfire, not even thinking to go to her more trusted scimitars. She couldn't fight the creature in close; of all the four primary elemental Daedra, fire was often the type any melee warrior was least capable of battling. Its flames burned with skin-curling intensity, and the strike of a scimitar, though it could hurt the beast, would heat the weapon as well. Kiainia drew back and let fly, and the arrow disappeared into the swirl of flames.

The fire elemental swung around toward her and roared, the sound of a thousand trees crackling, then spat forth a line of flame that immediately set the palm trees around her aflame.

"How do we fight it?" Dorio cried, and yelped as the flame atronach scorched the trough he hid behind, filling the air with thick steam. Kiainia didn't answer. She shot off another arrow, and again she had no way of knowing if it scored any damage upon the creature or not. Then, on instinct, she angled her bow to the side and let fly a third, right past the elemental to slam into, and punch through, the wall of the structure housing the wizard. A cry from inside told her that she startled the mage, and the sudden and angry turn of the flame atronach, back toward the house, confirmed what the women had hoped.

She fired off a continual stream, then, a volley placed all around the wooden structure, blasting hole after hole and without discernible pattern. She judged her success by the motions of the Daedra, gliding one stride toward her, then one back at the wizard. For controlling such a beast from the depths of oblivion was no easy feat, and one required absolute concentration. And if the control was lost, Kiainia knew, the summoned creature would almost always take out its rage upon the summoner.

More arrows flashed into the house but to less effect; Kiainia needed to actually score a hit on the mage to turn the elemental fully. But she didn't, and she soon recognized that the creature was inevitably edging her way. The wizard had adjusted. Kiainia kept up the barrage anyway, and began moving away as she fired, confident that she could turn and outdistance the creature, or at least get to the water’s edge, where the coastline would protect her from the atronach's fury. She turned and glanced to the water trough, thinking to tell Dorio to run.

However the man was already gone.

The wizard was protected from the arrows, Kiainia realized as the atronach bore down on her with renewed enthusiasm. The redguard fired off a pair of shots into it for good measure then turned and sprinted back the way she'd come, around the edge of the building hit by the same fireball that had nearly melted her, which was now burning furiously.

"Clever wizard." She heard herself saying with venom under her breath as she almost ran headlong into a giant web that stretched from building to building in the alleyway. She spun to see the elemental blocking the exit, its flames licking the structures to either side.

"Fine then." Kiainia challenged to the beast, drawing forth her twin scimitars. "Have at thee."

She couldn't really speak to a creature of oblivion, or course, but it seemed to Kiainia as if the monster heard her, for as she finished, the atronach rushed forward, its fiery arms sweeping ferociously. Kiainia ducked the first swing then leaped out to her right just ahead of the second sweep, running up the wall--and feeling that its integrity was diminished by the fires roaring within--and spinning into a back somersault. She came down in a spin, scimitars slashing across, backhand leading forehand, and both sent puffs of flame into the air as they slashed against the life-force that held those flames together into a physical, if semi-solid creature.

That second weapon, Coldfang, sent a surge of hope through Kiainia, for its properties were an enchantment of the freezing north cold, thus affording her some substantial protection from flames, as it had down against the wizards fireball, but the frostbrand scimitar took a particular pleasure in inflicting cold pain upon creatures with an affinity to fire. Much like the fire djinn's of the Alik'r desert, or pesky flame atronach's such as this one. The creature shook off Stormclaw's backhand hit, as it had all but ignored the shots from Skyfire, but when Coldfang connected, the creature seemed to burn less bright. The elemental whirled away and seemed to shrink in on itself, spinning around midair tightly.

Its flames burned brighter, white hot, and the creature came out enraged and once more huge again. Kiainia met its charge with a furious flurry of whirling blades. She shortened Stormclaw's every stroke, using that blade to fend off the atronach's barrage of punches. She followed every strike with Coldfang, knowing that she was hurting the Daedra.

But not killing it.

Not anytime soon at least, and despite the protection of Coldfang, Kiainia felt the heat of the magnificent, deadly beast. More than that, the power of the atronach's swing could fell a troll even without the fiery accompaniment. The atronach stomped its foot and a circular gout of flames rushed out from the point of impact, sweeping past Kiainia and making her hop in surprise. The creature came forward and let fly a sweeping right hook, and Kiainia fell low, barely escaping the hit, which smashed hard into the building, crushing through the wooden wall. From that hole came a blast of fire, and as it retracted, Kiainia leaped for the broken wood. She planted her foot on the bottom rim of the opening and came up flat against the wall, but only for the brief second it took her to swing her momentum and leap away across the alleyway, she somehow managed to sheathe her blades and catch on to the rim of the opposite building's roof.

She ignored the stun of the impact as she crashed against the structure and scrambled, lifting her legs just above another heavy fiery slug. As fast as she went, though, the atronach was faster. It didn't climb the wall in any conventional sense, but just fell against it and swirled up over itself, rising as flames would climb a dry tree. Even as Kiainia stood tall on the roof, so did the elemental atronach, and that building too, was almost fully enveloped in flames. The atronach shot a line of flames at Kiainia, who dived aside, but still got hit--and though Coldfang helped her avoid the brunt of the burn, she surely felt the sting!

Worse, the roof was burning behind her, and the atronach sent out another line, and another, all designed, Kiainia recognized, to seal off her avenues of escape. The elemental hadn't done that in the alley, the redguard woman realized as she drew out her scimitars yet again. The creature was smart enough to recognize an alteration made web,and knew that such an assault would have freed its intended prey. This creature was not dumb.

"Wonderful." Kiainia muttered.

Jartod seemed to look to the map of Skyrim, viewing a few important trade routes and other places on interest

" Sire , reports of brigands on the borders of Falkreath and Helgen , independent reports reveal there lightly armoured and lack training "

" Hm.. keep the local's unwary of there movements , send in the Brotherhood to kill there top ranking leaders and officals, once that is done ... the thevies shall empty there coffers ... "

A bold plan was laid out by Jartod , knowing that engaging in a full scale assault would terrorize the the locals , he decided to quietly murder the leaders of these groups , one by one. Most of these chieftains would also be just focused on the trade routes as well, so he then moved to another part of his plan, emptying there coffers. He presumed for the most part that these men were looking to get paid after there stunt , so he simple looted there coffers , finally once there leaders dead and coffers empty, these groups would break into a civil war, which would in turn , probably kill most of there numbers. Then, he would send his guards to fight and/or arrest the men and question them for more intel. A bold plan in deed, but he would rather risk blood shed and small trade disruption rather then setting up armed blockades and ambushes of men. Not only that, but two "bandit" groups fighting would be common news for the locals

" The Envoy to Black Marsh is ready, with the needed "people" also there sire "

Jartod received a note, of the people and there races going there , plus the amount required

" Very well, move at haste "

Actions

- Slow yet guaranteed destruction of anti-Jartod Groups , with less local disruption
- Propaganda posted , to lower civilian involvement but also lessen traffic on the roads into the Falkreath Hold
- Envoy is going to Black Marsh

Cheydinhal Country.

The amassed legion was somehow having no luck in catching the bastards, which made them uneasy. How could an entire legion still not have found them? The Penitulus Oculatus themselves had recently sent three members, including one clairvoyant, but no one really expected anything of it. The legion had failed so far, why on Earth would they succeed now?
That was until they found the mine... Following the golden beads that formed on the ground, the clairvoyant lead a contingent of Legionaries into the cabins. Arriving and finding a small cabin encased deep within the mines, the penitus oculatus officer had cast an unlock spell on the door, before busting it open. To say the discovery didn't shock them would be an understatement, as the captives had appeared fine until inspected closer. The "M" on their back spawned no end of conspiracy theories, from Malacath to Morrowind to the deceased Commander Maro... of course, the latter seems most unlikely, and even the drunk who dreamed it up later called it silly once sober.
None the less, there is a growing sense of tension among the legionnaires, and once the rumours of executions of Imperial Sympathisers in Morrowind reached their ear, corrupted to sound some times worse as it had travelled, the men wanted blood. Whether it was the work of Morrowind or Malacath, this revelation of executions in Morrowind had painted the image of the legion, and the Legate was seeking permission to invade. Understandably, he was meeting little progress at the time being, for various reasons... Most of all because the letter M was weak evidence.
The alleys of Cheydinhal begin to see increased guard traffic, and legion patrols have relaxed on their personal defence using their weaponry, but keep the eyes of Hawks on anyone who so much as looks suspicious. Since the rescued captives can no longer speak, they are instead told to write statements to be given to the legions, and in the great hall of the castle, under the protection of the legion, they do just that.
This finding is officially announced to the entire town by the Count, though most already knew from word of mouth. The Legion was sure that this discovery would draw support back to them as those who had been doubting their response realised that there truly was more to this than met the eye. A poster campaign is also started, encouraging citizens to stay with friends, raise their guard, reporting anything suspicious to the Watch as well as ensuring that they are always within eye sight of a guardsmen or legionnaires, and not to approach suspicious strangers. They also advise against being out at night, and remind all citizens to lock their doors. "If one must travel" One such poster states while displaying a drawing of a merchant on the roads with the White Gold tower in the background, with a rather sinister looking shadow figure brandishing a knife skulking behind him "Then ride with a legion patrol as much as possible, they are here for your protection. Be wise. Be safe. Be aware." Others encourage citizens to engage in a neighbour hood watch styled program, keeping eyes on and looking out for each other.

And here is a slightly cunning plot. You see, the Penitus Oculatus were a cunning bunch, and two had donned civilian clothes and reduced themselves from their upright demeaner. The plan was to get one of themselves kidnapped, and from there the captive would proceed to escape in a clever manner which he assumed the kidnappers would not suspect, and from there have them arrested and subsequently imprisoned. The two behaved like the citizens, and hoped they would be able to lure the kidnappers.

Black Marsh

The Elder Councillor arrived at the city, stepping slowly out of his carriage and looking around, his escorts scanned their surroundings, looking for anything that they might even consider a threat.

Valenwood

The Imperial Forces begin to direct the bosmer in the embargo, leading to a further cut of supplies in the south. Faced with economic troubles from the new pirate threat and the embargo's, the South is expected to weaken as the 'independent Elsweyr' collapses around them and brings them back into the Empires fold. The Arrival of the Redguards in Valenwood is met by cheers of the Imperial troops. What the Redguards would do in the long term wasn't really their concern, their duty was to free Valenwood of Aldmeri rule. It's political future? Probably independent, though some of the Imperials did hold a glimpse of hope that the Bosmer might join with them. The legate expected that the Aldmeri propaganda was going to fail as such. Whatever the case, now that Valenwood seemed to have most of the Altmer pushed out, the Legates forces were essentially mopping up now. Their morale was so high he expected he could tell them to charge a volley of arrows and they wouldn't be disheartened... Haha, not that he wanted to put that to the test, morale can only go so far

The bosmer kept her embargo going in the south with the legates forces and they kept to high ground to gave their arrows ready and able to use the arrows to their full extent.

Once the bosmer killed the altmer forces in the camp they went down and started to eat the bodies raw while they could. When it seemed that most the altmer forces were dead some of the bosmer. Started to play on their flutes in celebrating that they were free from the altmer looking over their heads and could be free