Torval

Ta'fel and his army watched the city of Torval. "Hmm..." Ta'fel said while observing Torval "Catapults, strike the gate on Ta'fel's command! And after the gate is open, Ta'fel only wants you to fire if neccesary, like last time, Yes? And men, do not kill innocents."
"Yes sir!" The army yelled, acknowledging Ta'fel's commands.
"Good..." Ta'fel waited a few moments, the catapults were loaded and then Ta'fel yelled
"FIRE AT THE GATE!" Ta'fel roared while him and the majority of men charged towards the city, the others stayed behind to protect the siege equipment. As Ta'fel and his men charged towards the city, volleys of arrows were landing around them and hitting some of the men, but as they reached the city, the gate had been broken by a rock and they charged in striking down hostile threat. Ta'fel captured the towns mayor and threw him and other southern soldiers in the prisons

Governor Militant

Ab'Farahn arrived at the Governor Militants soldiers, he approached them and was taken to him, he met the Governor Militant and said "The peace has failed. Ab'Farahn was told to inform you to start the contingency plan. This one would assume you would know what that is. Ab'Farahn would like to talk more, but we are in a hurry and must win the war, the High Elves and Argonians will send soldiers to the South. Ab'Farahn wants to know what the contingency plan is."

Stros M'kai Coastline
25th of Midyear, 4E 205

T'ozun was a man of fairly simple pleasures in life; a good cup of wine, a young lass, and the open seas was easily his idea of the best things life had to offer. Maybe he'd add a good fight on the list as well. The sun was sinking and T'ozun, High Admrial of the Yokudan fleet and currently in charge of overseeing operations in Stros M'kai, was currently enjoying the second of his vices when the sound of knocking came at his door.

"Who's that?" the sultry voice of T'ozun's current bed partner.

Grimacing in annoyance he shrugged before calling out loud. "What is it? I told you lot that I'm not to be disturbed!"

"Admiral! It's the Dominion! The coastal watchtowers in the south have spotted their sails on the horizon!"

"What!" T'ozun rather quickly and unceremoniously fell right out of bed, hitting his elbow on the hard wood floor rather hard. "Dammit, a man can't get a moments peace?"

---

Several minutes later and dressed in a far more appropriate form of dress, T'ozun was fast walking down a narrow corridor toward the buildings fortified forge. Which at that moment also served as the headquarters of Ali-baba's partner and long-time friend; Magharebis.

"This is not good, not good at all!" The little old man complained. He was a breton of some years, frail, bent with age, and pale as chalk despite having been living on Stros M’Kai for nearly a decade.

"Relax, leave the defenses to us, and we'll make sure you precocious research is kept safe." T'ozun said in an attempt to calm the man. "Now what is it that's so damn important? Temijen likes his secrets."

"Ah, well, you will see." Magharebis came to the end of the hall, a large reinforced set of double doors now baring their path. Magharebis walked up to the doors and waved a ringed finger before a sigil that was planted in between both sets of doors. The doors screeched open slowly, the sound reverberating throughout the hall. Once the doors were opened Magharebis quickly went through the arch, and T'ozun followed, noting the many forge works fashioned by Dwemer metals scattered about.

Magharebis walked up a dais and approached a single pedestal and removed a single gold orb from the structure. He handled it with such care as if it might shatter should he hold it too tightly. "If the Altmer only knew of what we planned to build..." He said as he turned to T'ozun.

T'ozun nodded grimly as he he took the orb with almost equal care. "I shall find a place of safe keeping for it until the mer are pushed back from our shores."


------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Battle of Stros M’Kai
26th of Midyear, 4E 205



Sails billowing, timbers creaking, water spraying high from her prow, The Hammer leaped across the swells with the grace of a dancer. All the multitude of sounds blended together in a musical chorus, both invigorating and inspiring, and it occurred to young Captain T'ozun that if he had hired a band of musicians to rouse his crew, their work would add little to the natural music all around them that was Hunding Bay. The fight was on, or it soon would be, and every man and women aboard felt it, and heard it.

The sounds of faraway booms could be heard from the distance and they were only growing louder. The watch tower warning had given the ship's hidden there months prior in the near countless ship-sheds dotting the northern coast of the island little time to move the Yokudan fleet into position, Temijen had been wise not to rely on the harbor. Sailing north then west, had forced the T'ozun to lure the altmer ships to the harbor using a small token defense force.

The Yokudan flagship The Hammer was among the the fleets heaviest Baghlah class ships. The fortified forecastle housed the ships staring piece of weaponry, Ali-baba's designed rapid fire dwemer ballista, which only today would have a taste of its first true battle. T'ozun felt there would be no end of 'practice' for the weapon in the battle to come, of that we as certain. T'ozun stood forward and starboard, holding fast to a guide rope, his dark black dreads waving in the wind, his black shirt half unbuttoned and flapping refreshingly and nosily, bouncing out enough to show a tar-black scar across the left side of his chest.

"They are close," came a woman's voice from behind him, and T'ozun half-turned to regard knight-captain and spell-sword master Saffara, mistress of the Order of Diagna chapter house in Stros M'kai.

"Your magic tells you so?"

"Can't you feel it?" the women's answered, and gave a coy toss of her head so that her near neck-length red hair caught the wind and flipped back behind her. Her blouse was as open as T'ozun's shirt, and the young man couldn't help but look admiringly at the alluring creature. He thought of the previous night, and the night before that, and before that as well-of the whole enjoyable time stationed at Stros M'kai. Saffara was around his age, just past thirty summers, attractive, sometimes brazen, sometimes coy, and just enough of each to keep T'ozun and every man around her off-balance and keenly interested in pursuing her. Saffara knew her power well, and T'ozun knew she knew it, but still, he couldn't shake himself free of her.

Saffara stepped up beside him and playfully brushed her fingers through his thick hair. He glanced around quickly, hoping none of the crew had seen, for the action only accentuated that he was quite young to be captaining a ship, much less admiral of the Yokudan fleet. His build was slight, for a Redguard, wiry yet strong, his features boyish and his eyes a delicate light brown. While his hands were calloused, like those of any honest seaman, his skin had not yet taken on the weathered, leathery look of a man too much under the sparkling sun. Yet Temijen had tasked him personally as Admiral over the high captains, after long ago learning of T'ozun's maritime genius.

Saffara dared to run her hand under the open fold of his shirt, her fingers dancing across his smooth skin to the rougher place where skin and tar had melded together, and it occurred to T'ozun that he typically kept his shirt open just a bit more for exactly the reason of leaving a hint of that scar, that badge of honor, that reminder to all that he had spent most of his life with a blade in his hand.

"You are a paradox." Saffara remarked, and T'ozun merely smiled. "Gentle and strong, soft and rough, kind and merciless, an artist and a warrior. With your lute in hand, you sing with the voice of the sirens, and with your sword in hand, you fight with the tenacity of a redguard weapons master."

"You find this off-putting?"

Saffara laughed, "I would drag you to your cabin right now," she replied. "But they are close."

As if on cue-and T'ozun was certain Saffara had used some magic to confirm her predictions before she'd offered it-a crewmen from the crow’s nest shouted. "Sails! Sails on the horizon!"

Indeed the scene from even this far away revealed smoke and fires along with ships aplenty. The watchtowers had been unable to give a proper number due to the still dark night at the time, but it seemed the Aldmeri Dominion had set to sail their entire fleet. However, if T'ozun guessed right, he should still hold the numerical advantage, along with the Yokudan's latest secret weapon. Roughly three hundred warships hedged around The Hammer, one hundred and twenty of which were Baghlah class ships with great sails, all armed with Ali-baba's dwemer ballistas. In the center of the formation of warships was the heart of the fleet, the dromonds their medium-sized galley, fast, nimble, and eminently suitable for Yokudan style warfare. All if not most double masted, but with the ensuing battle ahead, these were already being pulled up least they become a target, their rowers well covered from attack. In the close combat engagement of naval combat offered the ships superior maneuverability to even elven ships, which still relied on the wind power alone.

A supremely athletic and strong people as a rule, the Yokudan fleet harnessed their greatest asset of all in naval warfare for their ships, the redguard's themselves. The The dromonds are already pulling ahead, the sound of Ra-gada war drums played a steady beat now, working in prefect concord with the flow of the oars. As the Yokudan fleet neared 500 feet they had already long since been spotted, elven warships moving in to intercept them. The range to his liking T'ozun signaled for the fleet to begin firing, and fire they did.

The power and strength of the dwemer like weapons outstripped the range of any spell or crude bombard, with a firing rate that baffled T'ozun even now, having already seen them in action. However, those had been in controlled environments, watching them sail forth like a rain of death into the elven ships was truly awe inspiring. The first volley this far out caused minimal damage, cutting a few sails here and there. T'ozun had arranged his artillery on the flanks, as the dromonds punched a course straight for the elven fleets heart. T'ozun's plan was simple enough, punch as many holes and damage as many sails as possible to allow the dromonds, their forward face reinforced and designed to be used as a kind of makeshift bridge, to ram and board the opposition in quick succession.

The faster the Ra-gada closed into close combat and engaged their harpax's, a powerful kind of grapnel hook. The quicker The Yokudan fleet could secure a victory, hence T'ozun's calculated gamble, the Dominion were now mostly unopposed in assaulting the island proper, but should T'ozun close the gap quick enough, he could very well trap the elves in the bay, and in fighting conditions more suitable to the Yokudan traditional style of naval combat. The sound of drums beat faster, each ship matching the rolling thunder of its neighbour, thus allowing each ship to adjust their speed in near unison.

The battle for Stros M'kai had truly begun.

Agent Aiden of the Renshi, Servant of the Dominion.
27th of Midyear
Alinor, Summerset Isles, Capital of the Dominion.

Aiden had been aiding the temporary Arch-Mage all day with her studies, and he had to admit that he was becoming genuinely interesting in her research, not just as an informer for the Thalmor. Nearly the whole day had been spent organizing and preparing the various things they had ordered for such a risky and experimental ritual. It was slow work, but Aiden knew his patients would pay off soon enough. It was while cracking open one of many crates did he see one of the largest black soul gems he was sure existed. Spotting it, the Arch-Mage rushed over excited.

“Ah yes, it’s here! Good.” She smiled brightly to the soul gem, picking it up and holding it in her hands. It was during this brief serene moment that once more Aiden felt his heart yearn for her, and he was forced to look away from her. Deep down the Altmer felt bad wittingly betraying this beautiful and brilliant young mer to the Thalmor, but such things must be done for the good of the realm.

“How long do you think it’ll be before we are ready?” Aiden asked cautiously, sure that his pressing at any time could be too much. Yet still she would answer him, trusting in him completely.

“Oh, it shouldn’t take too long; I don’t think, we will just need immense amounts of power to be funneled all at once, requiring many Mages. Hopefully we can finish it before the High King returns.” She spoke wistfully, approaching her arcane table and looking over her supplies. Though Aiden did not realize it, but the young Arch-Mage would still looks at her Steward as well, and strong was their feelings for each other.

“Who will be the one infused with such terrible power?” Aiden asked, realizing suddenly he did not know.

It was now that Valina would grow quiet, and seem to dodge his questions with practice ease.

“Admiral Orthos probably, or perhaps Aelid himself. Who really knows? My job is to get it working, not care who for.” She spoke.

The Steward wanted to ask more, yet there was work to be done. Trying to distance himself from his thoughts, Aiden would being preparing a massive circle in a specialized chamber, the circle made of seal salt and ground soul gems. The transfusion would be ready soon.

---

The Lord Regent Nelron of The Aldmeri Dominion
27th of Mid-Year
Alinor, Summerset Isles, Capital of the Dominion

The old and wizened wizard sat heavily on the old throne, and he could more sense than feel his connection to life slipping, yet could not find a reason why. He was beginning to wonder if it was simply his extremely old age beginning to catch up with him. The Justicar Revin had been heavily involved in the court as of late, taking on more and more responsibilities as the Regent declined in health. Nelron shook his head and decided it was time he does something with his Regency, himself. He coughed and slowly breathed in painfully before speaking to his court;

“I have received word from The High King Aelid that we are not to fire upon the Maormer unless done defensively. It appears our High King would wish to deal with this diplomatic relations personally, and as such we must pursue a isolationist policy or now.”

Revin seemed disgusted by this, and his hatred for the Maormer was well known. Still the Justicar would remain quiet and keep his peace, and for this Nelron was thankful. He nodded to a courier who carried out the will of Aelid, and soon the Official Relations of the Aldmeri Dominion was one of simply Non-Aggression with these Maormer, at least until the High King returned to further revise it. Yet Nelron wasn’t done in his rulings, despite the fact that his strength was waning.

“Furthermore, it appears The High King would have us send a Dominion Representative as well as a squad of Battle-Mages to be sent to Orsinium immediately. Strange news, indeed.” Spoke Nelron with a raised eyebrow at the strangeness of sending Altmer to Orsinium. The Elder Regent wasn’t sure why Aelid would send these Emissary’s there, but he trusted in his High King, unlike others In his court.

He shifted his gaze uneasily to the slippery Revin.

Actions:
-Arch-Mage Valina is preparing the Transfusion Ritual now!
-Dominion Relations with Maormer are Officially Non-Aggressive.
-Representative and Battle-Mages sent to Orsinium!

Riders and Emissaries

The Rider in Skyrim has arrived at Castle Dawnguard and is to meet with the Nord Gunmar to acquire the knowledge required on the taming of trolls and bring it back to Cyrodiil. Once he knowledge is acquired, he is to depart from the south at once
The Rider in Valenwood has delivered the letter from the Emperor to the First legion, who are to begin enacting their new orders at once, and the rider has began his ride back to the Imperial City to inform the Emperor of the news
An Emissary, an Nord Tribune by the Name of Agnar has began his Journey by carriage to Orsinium in the North in order to meet regarding the agreements at the Summit

Governor Militant

"An invasion of the south, simply put." The Governor militant said, nodding to Ab'Farahn as he rolled his map up and handed it to his officer "I must ready my forces, word came from the front this morning that Torval was taken, we shall take Senchal next, then it will just be a case of mopping up" He turned and walked out of the tent, yelling to his forces to pack up camp and prepare to move. Suddenly the army was scurrying around to take apart the campsite and prepare for a march south. He turned back to Ab'Farahn "The South is ready to crumble, and soon Elsweyr will be united once more. Amnesty shall of course be offered to any rebels who wish to lay down their arms"

Force Movements

The Governor Militants forces have begun moving into the south of Elsweyr from the North, the Governor militant aims to split his force to reinforce Torval and Corinthe
The 1st Legion has begun to move across Valenwood once more, towards the South of Elsweyr
The Guardsmen of Leyawiin who were originally to head to Corinthe have instead taken control of the villages near the Cyrodiil-Elsweyr border.

Amnesty:
An official announcement has been made offering amnesty to any active southern rebels who wish to lay down their arms and return to their former lives. This offer is not extended to any imprisoned rebels, who will of course have to appear in court of law

The Governor Militant

"Ab'Farahn understands..." Ab'Farahn replied "Soon Elsweyr will be united again, and the bloodshed will end." He turned away from the Governor "Ab'Farahn will set off to Senchal. He will see you later." Ab'Farahn and his men marched to Senchal.

A few hours later, At Senchal

Ab'Farahn stood infront of his men, examining Senchal. He then let out a quiet growl and turned to his men and said "Men! Senchal is heavily fortified. But we can not wait for the Governor Militant. We'll have to take the fight to them! Ab'Farahn is quarreling with himself over two choices: One, we bombard the city but risk the lives of innocents, or two, We attack the guards on the walls with our arrows and send the battering ram and ladders to the walls and the gate..." He paused and then announced "Men! We take option two." He turned towards Senchal. "Archers!.." He yelled and paused "Ready!.." He paused again "Loose them, let it rain!" Arrows flew at the guards on the gates, killing some, wounding others, and others were missed. "Keep firing!.. Move the ladders to the walls! Move the battering ram to the gate! Warriors guard the ladders and the battering ram! Take the fight to them!" The ladders approached the walls and the battering ram approached the gate, as the warriors defended them and the archers killed more of the men on the walls. Warriors were climbing the ladders as the battering ram attacked the gate. The warriors had climbed the walls and were attacking the men on the walls. Some of Ab'Farahn's men had died approaching Senchal and some were being slain on the walls, however, his men were giving the enemy the same treatment. Later, the gate had been broken and the warriors flooded in through the gates and over the walls. It was then that Ab'Farahn entered the City. Men were fighting, blood was spraying every where and screams of pain and battle-cries were heard by all. Citizens that did not pose a threat were cowering in their home and buildings, waiting for the end. Ab'Farahn and three other warriors charged through the armies slaying enemies along the way. One of the warriors was attacked by a spear-man which plunged the spear right through him. Another one of the warriors was killed by a blade to the throat. But after running through the horror of the battle, Ab'Farahn and the other warrior made it to the main palace. More men then joined Ab'Farahn and they came bursting through the palace door, where they confronted Senchal's mayor, after slashing through the men in the palace. Ab'Farahn confronted the mayor and turned to his men and said "What do you think men? Should we kill him? Should we throw him away for eternity? Dead or alive?"
The men roared "Dead! Kill him!"
Ab'Farahn replied with "I'm afraid he won't die just yet... I've got some questions for him. Maybe I'll let him live..." He walked out of the Palace as his men chained up the mayor. He paused in the doorway and said "... Or maybe I won't..." He then left the palace and announced that the battle was over. The southern soldiers either surrendered and were locked away in the dungeons, or were slain if they kept fighting.

Dawnguard Fort

The Imperial Advisor came into the gates, 2 figures armed with crossbows escorted him to the seats

" Yes, begin training of.. ah our Imperial Friend is here?|

" Yes "

" Move him to the courtyard, and give him a room, but also introduce him to the trolls"

The Dawnguad leader moved away from his spot, heading to another location of the fort

---

Markarth Understone Keep , Lower Levels

" This is what I call fascinating!" utterd Yakron , the High Elf Mage

Jartod walked in, viewing the facilely. Construction began on the Production plant, A Huge Wide Room with workers and metal scattered and papers all along the place, Ingots of Dwenmer metal were stacked and stacked on carts and crates, waiting to be used. Various books discussing the dwenmer laid across tables. Orcs , Imperials and Nords began construction on the work area, while Jartod viewed the plans with Balgruuf.

" It'll take alot of time , High King " uttered Sitgus , the Imperial Worker Supervisor.

" Begin research , and production of the Dwenmer machines, draw up plans for Automons and study more faster production methods. "

" Sire, about the Forsworn? "

" Recruit more men , and tell them to expect anything."

=======
Actions

- Imperial Rider is living in Dawnguard fort, learning about the Troll's
- Research has begin on the Dwemner Automons and production plant is being made
- More Pressure on Recruitment offices has began.

edge of vallenwood:

the two bosmer ran until they got to the forest area and the second one left to go back to elsywer and the bosmer ran to find me in the center of the forest to give me the news and it was suspicious about what was going on, no bosmer would do anything to the kahjit out of the peace we kept with them so it had to be one that wasn't with the wood elves. at this realization the keeper knew he had to do something as the keeper ran to find the legate and stop him before they invaded the kahit territory without knowing all the facts

Sentinel
26th of Midyear, 4E 205

The hot sun of the day beat down heavily on the streets of Sentinel. Vanquisher Temijen, having recently arrived form the Valenwood coast, took in the sight of the city, jewel of the Lillic Bay, everything from the cities high stunning arches to its grand glinting domes shinning in the noon sun. As he reached the docks and stepped foot on the pier, Ra-gada warriors stationed saluted Temijen the moment they spotted him, making way for his small entourage.

The road to the palace from the harbor was a straight forward enough, leading through the city’s main market place, a jostling throng of bodies like a living tide of moving people. It always took more time to reach the palace by the main road then it did by the wayside routes. Still, traveling by the main market square had always given him the opportunity to meet and mingle with the people who he ruled over. He even preferred going incognito now and again to assess the ways and whims of the people first hand.

So it was hours later after arriving at the palace, that a meeting between the highest ranked lords and nobles of the city was called. Well preparations were under way, word was sent from Rihad by way of a swift rider that Dornthal had had some success in the summit. It was further good news riding from the gains in Valenwood. It would be prefect evidences for the nobles to support his newest project...

Several hours later, Temijen sat at a large round table decorated with food and exotic cushions from many corners of Tamriel, a goblet of wine in hand, and a growing headache in his mind, a sigh at his lips.

"Such an institution would be unfathomable!" One noble proclaimed. Temijen recalled his name was, Butin, Lord Butin, and a wealthy noble at that who owned several warehouses, and with much influence among the merchant class. "The common folk mistrust magic far too much to stand for a mage guild of any kind within the cities walls."

"I am well aware of our peoples distrust for the arcane arts, and rightly so." Temijen responded. "However, we cannot continue to hold on to old prejudices if we wish to progress in these changing times. Further, an institutionalized order of mage would allow use greater control over rogue warlocks, while the ban of schools such as Illusion, Conjuration, and Necromancy will be strictly enforced."

"You're idea is sounding more like a prison then, college." one Noble voiced.

"Perhaps, but as you said, our relationship with magic has always been a tentative one. We have always employed its use, but are among the few races in Tamriel to not have a focused institution for guiding those who wish to learn the art beyond it complementing their swordsmanship. This will install greater control over those who practice magic in Hammerfell, allowing us much needed reprieve from those who would abuse it."

The nobles muttered over it a moment more, but one by one they announced their support of the idea. Thus the first Alik'r Order of Magus was well under way, just as Ali-baba had advised some weeks earlier....


Imperial City
26th of Midyear, 4E 205

The Imperial capital was truly a sight to behold even from a distance. Riding upon a dark brown horse, the Hammerfell messenger, a redguard by the name, Ciralen, was surely impressed by what he saw. Still he was hardly here for sightseeing. The moment he reached the cities great gates, he announced himself as an envoy of Vanquisher Temijen having arrived to finalize the agreements made prior by his councilor at the Black Marsh summit.

Grand Master Kalanar of the Order of Whispers
28th of Mid Year
The Grand Hall of Whispers, Alinor.

Kalanar had worked tirelessly the past few days, and was exhausted. Yet he knew his efforts were not in vain, nor were they wasted. The information about the Valenwood Coast had apparently made it back to them, and they were aware watching much more closely for leaks and spies now. Yet Kalanar had been at this game a long while, and knew ways still to slip past.

He had created diversions, as well as framed loyalist bosmer to throw heat off his own agents. Finally it appeared they were beginning to slacken again, and soon his agents had once more seamlessly blended into bosmer culture, lost to the fabric of their society. Yet he had done more than this.

While establishing a firm intelligence in Valenwood was imperative, he had also heard of the chaos and war in Elsweyr, and had utilized the situation to his advantage. The southerners seemed to be getting beat, and they were desperate for soldiers. It had been easy enough slipping several khajiit spies into their ranks. The North was a bit trickier, but Kalanar had several agents pretend to be southern traitors who gave the north information in turn for joining, the information provided beng from his southern spies.

Yes, Kalanar knew how to play the game as it were. But setting up reconnaissance in Valenwood and Elsweyr would be only the beginning, for he knew there were still many secrets being whispered in many ears, which he still couldn’t hear.

Aldmeri Dominion Representatives Isildur and Lelin.
28th of Midyear
Daggerfall, High Rock.

The twin ships of Sun’s Ray and Sea Silk came into port at Daggerfall, and though both were servants of the Dominion, they carried very different goals and cargos. Isildur climbed up from the bowels of Sun’s Ray and looked up into sunlight for the first time since he had left Alinor.

The ships were of High Elf design, and their grace and speed was unmatched by any other navy in the world, allowing their journey to be swift and silent. The Battle of Stros M’Kai had drawn the attention and resources of both the Dominion Fleet and the Yokudan, and the majority of waters appeared fairly empty of a large presence from either side. Inside the deck of Isildur’s ship it seemed to shine of gold and goblets inside, with fine spices that seemed to be the incarnation of the taste of summer. Not only this, but warm and vibrant colors adorned the ship, making it appear to be an aquatic version of Apollo’s Chariot.
These gifts of silk and spice were for High Rock, as gifts to their good wealth and health. Isildur knew that as a Representative of the Dominion in High Rock, he may be unwelcome by Imperial Presences. Yet for the Dominion, he would persevere. His small force of guards began to gather their things.

It was on Sea Silk that the real weapons of war lay hidden, though one would be hard pressed to find them. Lelin had made his journey with group of nearly twelve Battle-Mages, many more than the five man squads they normally sent. He wasn’t quite sure why such a large force of Arcane Casters was accompanying him, but he didn’t pay them mind. He knew only his goal was Orsinium, and though the naval part of his adventure was over, he still had a ways to go to reach his destination.

The two Representatives looked to each other from their respective ships, and nodded. Isildur gathered up the many gifts and trade plans he had brought with him, and began to attempt to find whoever was in charge of this strange and foreign land.
Lelin and company bought horses, and set off towards their goal without so much as a bathroom break.


-Order of Whispers consolidates spies in Valenwood and spread into Elsweyr.
-Trade and Representatives to High Rock have arrived in Daggerfall!
-The Representative and Battle-Mages will arrive in Orsinium by dusk tomorrow!

((This post is a Exclusive for Dominion members only. Please join the Aldmeri Dominion in order to view this post.))

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

Tirdas, 1st of Sun's Height, 4E 205.

In this fine week, our journalists traveled far and wide to bring you these news.

---

Winterhold, Skyrim: The famous wizard, Tolfdir, passed away at the age of 127. His last words, according to the College staff, was, "Where is my alembic?".

Fort Dawnguard, Skyrim: The Imperial delegate and his entourage were killed, upon reaching the fort. They were tailed by a band of vampires, who also killed off a portion of the Dawnguards, including their leader, Isran. After the vampires were put down, their remains indicated them as Cyodiilic in origin.

The Reach, Skyrim: The Forsworn offensive netted mixed results, while the Nordic forces captured several redoubts, the costs was high. Overall, the casualty ratio was 2 Forsworns per 3 Nords.

Cyrodiil: A disease called the Cyrodiilic Disconnect have been spreading. The infected reported out of body experinces and feeling of their soul being drained away. So far, no fatalities.

Hammerfell: Due to the battle in Stro M'Kai, pirates have relocated other locations. Dupont's current whereabouts are unknown but rumors claimed that he had joined forces with the Topal Bay pirates.

High Rock: The invading Reachmen have been called upon to defend their brothers and sisters in the Reach.

Orsinium: The largest forge in Orsinium suffered a massive break-in, many high-quality weapons, jewelries and blacksmithing tools were stolen. Some of the suspects were last seen crossing the Hammerfell border.

Elsweyr: The North's campaigns were successful in taking the majors cities. However, both sides suffered equally high amounts of casualties.

Stormhold, Black Marsh: An Argonian had an uncontrolled transformation last night, the werecrocodile killed off more than two dozen citizens before disappearing. The werecreature's identity was unknown, though there were rumors about Stalks-The-Stars.

Tear, Morrowind
29th of Mid Year
Xing, Grandmaster of the Yuan Clan, Commander of Southern Expeditionary Force

---

Visitors to the Thousand Isles often told the Tang Mo how strange their home was. In Xing’s own case, the Yuan clan built houses upon the branches of the mighty Huoyan trees, and lived amongst the fearsome tri-fang panthers. The trees generated heat, which provided the monkeys their source of warmth. The panthers provided food, though every hunt had the risk of turning hunters into preys, the fearless Tang Mo always prevailed in the end. Over time, those monkey folks built villages, and after that, cities. Nowadays, the metropolitan areas of the Thousand Isles were truly unique, each clan had its own history, tradition and culture.

But the strangeness of his home was nothing compared to the alienness of Morrowind. The land were ash colored, which was fitting for a people living in the shadow of the greatest volcano. Under the ashen soil, bizarrerie vegetation and fruits, resembling the shapes of spikes, rocks and other unearthly objects, grew and flourished. Xing saw people living in Mushroom houses, though in this particular city, architecture remained generally recognizable.

With the thoughts of this foreign place in mind, Xing ordered his flagship, The Qianfeng, into the docks. The large ship was joint Tang Mo and Tsaesci construction, with elements resembling ship builders of both people. The Tang Mo were seafaring people, but the close proximity of their islands meant that their specialties lied in lesser sized vessels.

The large ship gently glided into the largest pier of the harbor. The commander specifically ordered the ship’s weapons to be stored underneath the deck, so it did not freighted the local populace. Even so, such a large vessel was a sight to behold, as the Dark Elf dockworkers stopped in their tracks and stared at The Qianfeng. Xing paid them no attention, he had his first mate light up a signal fire, providing the signal to dock for the remaining ships.

After an hour of maneuvering, most of the ships were able to drop their anchors in port. Dragonguard captain Matiyahu-Zvi and a group of Tang Mo messengers were the first ones on land. They took curious looks at the Dunmers, who looked back with equal, if not more, shock on their faces. After several tense minutes of talks, the Elves finally took off into the city. Seeing this opportunity, Xing, dressed in an enchanted shadowhide armor, descended onto the docks.

“Commander Xing,” Matiyahu reported. “They took your letter, this Ildoryn should be on his way now.”

---

Fort Frostmoth, Solstheim
1st of Mid Year
Hakkeam, War Herald of the Kamal, Commander of the Northern Expeditionary Force

---

Hakkeam was no stranger to the cold, the Kamal commander, two and half meter of raw muscle, stood casually against the cutting winds. It was perhaps the natural frost resistance of his people, or perhaps it was the insulating under-lair of his Adamantium armor, either way, he was not a bit bothered.

However, the Tsaesci beside him clearly was. Sacharen-Regev, the Tsaesci imperial battlemage, shivered in the cold wind. Her scarlet-dyed silverweave robe did nothing to ward off the cold, even with a fur-lined coat, she still felt the bitter wind. It was said that the Tsaesci have traces of cold-blooded reptiles, causing them to be less adaptive of extreme weathers. This was why the snake folks learned to manipulate weather, if they could not change themselves, they had to change the environment.

In her current case, Sacharen knew that would not be possible. The majority of the battlemages were devoted to other purposes, some went about engineering duties, some served as scouts while others kept communication open.

At this point, Hakkeam have finished his inspection and preceded to return inside the fort. From his brief tour outside, he saw his Kamal troops, along with the Tsaescis, managed to refortify this abandoned structure. In the last 3 days, they have expanded the ruined port, cleared out ashes and “ashspawn” creatures, repaired the damaged walls and scouted the nearby areas.

The ashspawns were fairly easy to dispose of, as Hakkeam quickly learned. Sacharen’s experiments demonstrated their resistance to fire, but also discovered their vulnerability against banish spells. To the Kamal commander, none of that ever mattered, for a wide swing of his warhammer turned these abominations into fine dust.

Speaking of warhammers, a couple of Kamal soldiers found a particularly powerful enchanted hammer. According to some of the records, it was the Champion’s Crudgel, belonging to a “General Falx Carius”. While the weapon itself was old and worn, the enchantment was nothing the Akaviri have seen. Instead of channeling the energy of one element, it had all three. After smashing through a group of Reavers with the Crudgel, Hakkeam deemed it a worthy weapon. While it does not have the shear power of his three meter long Adamantium warhammer, its relatively compact size and powerful enchantment have made it a suitable backup.

“Sorceress,” the Kamal stopped as he questioned Sacharen. “What do you think this place used to be?”

“Well,” the battlemage pondered for a second. “There are magical materials dedicated to necromancy, as seen with these “ashspawns” and this “General Carius”. But someone cleared it out some time ago, more than a year but less than a decade.”

“Hmm,” Hakkeam wondered. While the Kamal gave off images of berserkers, as most of them were, they do have accomplished magick users amongst their ranks. The majority of Kamal mages were destruction and conjuration experts, hence their nickname, “the Snow Demons.”

“Most of the construction should be done in two days,” Sacharen alerted the Kamal. She was eager to get off this divines forsaken rock, to finally demonstrate the might of her elite Stormmages.

“Indeed,” Like Sacharen, Hakkeam was equally eager to fight, to test the Crudgel against worthy opponents. “Our assault shall commence then.”

27th Mid Year, 4E 205
Imperial-Maormer Contact, Near Torval, Pirate Infested Waters

The Imperial Captain had led the Fifteen vessels towards Torval. It was intended that the ships would sail past the docks of Torval, giving the locals a bit of a scare from the sight of Imperial ships, before proceeding up the river Xylo and dropping off it’s loads in the hands of Imperial Forces. It was thought that, in spite of the risk, it would be quicker and easier to move the goods by sea than it would be to move them through Valenwood. The reason for sending so many vessels for such a simple mission was to ensure the pirates did not pick a bone with them, and to ensure that any naval ships which might be loyal to the south would not dare sail out to meet them. The crew kept their eyes on the waters none the less, they had no doubts that pirates in the south had been growing bolder due to the lack of Imperial Law, and neither did the Imperial Command.

“That’s the Imperial Dragon all right,” Hierdan said, squinting through his eyeglass. “Looks like a convoy. Might be worth a look, maybe if the relations with the Altmer fall through we can get the Empire’s navy instead. Admiral, do I have your permission to send a ship and envoy to the Imperial convoy to broker negotiations?”

The Maormer Admiral took a long gaze at the Imperial ships before grimacing. “One cruiser.” was all he said. Within a quarter of an hour the ship was reassigned with one of the spare diplomats they’d brought along for the journey to Morrowind. It banked to port away from the fleet, firing white smoke from its canons and raising a flag of parlay to the Imperials. The main fleet slowed to three quarters, watching its approach and for the response from the Empire’s ships.

The Captain turned his head to the yell of one of the men, and followed the direction he was pointing. He moved to the side of the ship and stared off at the alien vessel… It was coloured light blue, with white ripples flowing through it and sails that looked like wings shooting out from the deck. It was sailing toward them, and he glanced up to check it’s flag, but it was as alien, if not more, than the crafts design it’s self. He turned his head slightly to his first officer, and shared a whispered exchange
“Who in oblivion is that… Not pirates, surely?” He asked, and the first officer shook his head
“I doubt it, sir. Never seen a vessel like that… Maybe it’s something from the Elves?”
“Neither have I, and I’ve never seen an Elven flag that looks like that … It doesn’t appear to be hostile…” The Captain frowned, watching as it flew the flag of parlay “It wishes to talk…” He turned his head away before yelling down to the deck “Slow the ship, signal the other vessels! Keep ready, it could be a pirate trap!” He turned his head back to the First Officer “Be sure the men are ready, at the first sign of trouble, I want that vessel destroyed immediately, is that clear?”
“Aye, sir…” The Captain turned his head back out to the ship, and as he did he felt the boat lurch under him as it slowed and turned towards the newcomer.

“Which language do the men speak again?” Thought the diplomat. “Right, yes the easiest one.” He fidgeted with the silver robe he was wearing, picking at the red trimming and accents. His fingers involuntarily took on a reddish hue, and the diplomat took a couple breaths to calm himself. He conjured up a slight haze over the water to better propel his voice through, making sure not to make it too visible. He started yelling towards the ship which signalled him back.

“Hail, sons of Atmora! Your province is Cyrodiil, correct? We are Maormer, the ones you call Tropical Elves, from Pyandonea. Would you receive us for news and possibly other arrangements?”

The Captain next to him was trying to keep his composure. He disliked the diplomat speaking in a language he didn’t know. ”Damn political caste. Always using words when cannons speak far louder.”[/] he thought. His crew seemed annoyed so he sternly gazed them down. They wouldn’t make him look bad in front of the diplomat, and certainly not any race of [i]man if he could help it.

The Diplomat listened eagerly for a reply.

The Imperial Captain exchanged an odd glance with his first officer, who shrugged and whispered sharply
“Weren’t they the ones who tried to attack back in the days of the Septims? Trust them if you will, sir, but be careful…” The First Officer whispered, and the Imperial Captain nodded then cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled out across the waters, praying that they could actually here him
“Hail, Maormer, our provinces are many but we represent the Empire of Tamriel, ruling from the Province of Cyrodiil, that is correct! We would receive you, Tropical Elves!” He yelled back to them, then turned to the First Officer, whispering back to him “Send the rest of the fleet on, those supplies are supposed to arrive by tommorow morning.”
“But Sir, if we lose the numbers…”
“I’m well aware of the consequences, but I think we could take on a single ship…” The two were interrupted quickly by the ships mage, who shook his head as he came up behind them
“It took the Altmer and Imperial navies to see them off, I would not dismiss them so lightly, Captain. Keep the ships with us, I think the Emperor shall understand your delay” The Captain sighed and nodded quickly. So be it, the equipment would be delayed then. If the war effort failed due to this, he knew it would be his head that would suffer for it. He turned his head out to the sea again, watching the Maormer ship intently

The Maormer Captain eyeing all fifteen Imperial ships in front of him. He smiled knowing that the Imperials were afraid.

“Is the Imperial navy still so bad that you need fifteen ships to meet one?” a crewmember called out in Pyandonean. The Captain slugged him hard, cursing his ancestors and sending him below deck.

“Captain, restrain your crew.” The Diplomat hissed. He addressed the Imperials in their language. “We seek news of Tamriel. What is the status of the Empire and its allies: are its borders still containing the entire continent?”

The Captain hesitated for a moment, before speaking again “If by the Empire being across the entire continent you would mean High Rock, Cyrodiil and Elsweyr” He said, somewhat bitterly “Then yes. Otherwise, I’m afraid not… but we’re on the way back up, don’t think otherwise, we’re not weak, and we’re certainly not dead yet.” The First mate nodded beside him, but didn’t offer anything other than that, while the ships mage just kept a watchful eye on the Maormer. The Crew members seemed to be either shocked, confused or intrigued by the presence of the new comer… or a mixture of all three.

“On your way back up, you say? How interesting. HUM truly does guide your people. This is rather forward of me, considering your crew’s reaction to us,” he shot glances at the Maormer Captain whom shot fiery looks at his own crew, “But would it be possible for our ship to accompany you back to the Empire? We would offer protection from unaligned ships such as pirates and raiders, of course during the journey… where is it you are headed?” The Diplomat raised his brow realising he was speaking slightly more than he should.

The Imperial Captain paused, glancing to the first officer. The two then glanced back to the mage, and the Imperial Captain turned back to the Maormer “We’re heading for the Xylo River in Elsweyr, to deliver supplies to some of our allies, there was some unrest in the South that needs to be eliminated, we believe it is probably nearing the end of it’s days now.” The Captain said, raising his hand to his chin thoughtfully. They were only one ship, if they were hostile then it would be suicidal of them to try anything in the midst of 15 imperial naval ships, and they didn’t seem to be intent on destroying them… yet. “You’re welcome to accompany us if you please, but we’re send supplies, not exactly going anywhere all that interesting, unless you count maybe Torval.”

The Elven Diplomat widened his smile at the mention of Torval. ”Ah, yes, Torval. The city where the cats are in chaos. We’ll help you raid it if that is your intention. How many slaves will you be taking?” The Diplomat thought for a moment and decided to change the subject. “If you take slaves, I mean. We haven’t any need for them. How long will your supply mission last before we can make for the nearest Imperial port?”

The Imperial Captain frowned as he mentioned slaves “Slavery is outlawed within the Empire, Maormer…” He said, then his frown faded ever so slightly when the diplomat changed the subject “I should think it would take less than a day to reach the River Xylo from here, so probably a day at most. If we’re lucky, allied forces may have already pushed further in, maybe to lands nearer to the City of Torval, and we won’t need to go far up the river to deliver the supplies. After that we can make for the nearest port in Cyrodiil, I believe, unless one of the Southern ports is taken… though I doubt we would want to land with a diplomat in somewhere which was just seized, considering the troubles”

“Ah, forgive me. It has been a very long time and my people aren’t aware of everything that happens in Tamriel. We will accompany you for this journey. Lead on.” The Sea Elf said. The Captain of the ship listened to the diplomat’s explanation and held a sour expression on his face. The next couple of days with the humans. He did not look forward to it.

The Imperial Captain nodded and turned his head to the deck, calling out “Signal the others! We hold course on to Elsweyr!” He called out, before turning and marching off the deck, followed swiftly by the mage while the First Officer took over the deck. The ships jerked again, turning as sharply as one could manage with the cumbersome ships once more as the small fleet set off towards Elsweyr

Two and a half Days Later

The fifteen plus one ships had headed towards the Xylo River, but when they saw that Torval was flying the flag of the Empire they had tentatively altered their course. As it turned out, Northern Forces under the Command of Ta’fel had seized the city some three days earlier than planned, and so they unloaded the siege equipment and supplies they had been sent to deploy into Torval instead of up the Xylo River. The unloading had taken longer than expected, but finally they had set off again and the ships had sailed back around Elsweyr, their size seemingly intimidating any would be pirates.
The ships had came to dock at the Imperial Port of Leyawiin, and the strange Maormer ship earned many looks of fascination and concern from the locals citizens. It was one of the most outlandish things the people of Leyawiin had ever seen… and considering they were from the cosmopolitan Imperial Province, that was not an easy title to claim.

The Elves were unfamiliar with such…. a bland looking city. Their acclimation to highly decorated religious designs and slithering architecture made them frown at the mostly square, unadorned  buildings. It was the chapel which caught their eyes as the best looking structure in Leyawiin. The wingsails of the elven ship folded as its crew took up oars to dock. It was an awkward fit, but they managed it. Disembarked, the diplomat looked to the Imperial Captain who ushered him into Castle Leyawiin. There, they met the Count of Leyawiin whom the Maormer spoke to of the provinces in Tamriel, their allegiances, statuses, a brief overview of history since the All Flag Navy knocked Pyandonea off the world stage, and traded one fine green and yellow silk robe emblazoned with a seahorse and chitin jewelry for a collection of Tamrielic history books. Afterwards the elves and merchants of Leyawiin traded small goods before the buglike boat departed a few days later, sailing out as suddenly and mysteriously as they had sailed in.
They caught up with the return group to Pyandonea.

---

26th Mid Year, 4E 205.
Stros M'kai Stken's Weakness

Smoke and debris filled the bay of Stros M’Kai, and the sun sank low on the horizon once again. The Aldmeris had received fair wounds to it’s hull during the fighting, but it was far from sunk. The Lord Admiral wasn’t positive they could take the Yokudan at first, even with superior ships and a surprise blitz, the Yokudan had more ships and sailors than Orthos had thought. Yet they had won, and the battle was theirs.

Turning from the the bow of the ship, he saw the surviving sailors aboard his ship give a great cry into the sky at the sight of the surviving Yokudan ships fleeing the battle. They had been broken here, and if they could be broken here, they could be broken again. Many of the surviving Altmer seemed to weep with toys of relief at their survival, yet the moans of pain from the wounded still carried heavily on the wind.

The Maormer had aided the Royal Fleet greatly in what Orthos felt to be the first of many battles, and though he distrusted the Sea Elves, he knew he must confront them. While the majority of his surviving ships formed a blockade around the isle, The Aldmeris set a course straight for the largest of the Maormer Battlegroup.

Orthos was a Altmer and care greatly for his appearance, especially that of a first impression. He disliked that he did not look the proper role of a high ranking Altmer. Yet at the same time, he was covered in blood and sea water, and that feeling was the closest to home he had ever known.

The Captain of The Hydra had taken an incredible gamble disobeying orders to return after Woodhearth. Only after his ships had aided in the battle did he think of what could have happened had the Altmer simply been going to a port they owned. As he was now, however, the Captain felt exhilaration at the prospect of being the Maormer to negotiate peace between the Altmer and his people. The shrill hiss of trumpets broke his thought with reality. They’d lost seven ships and eight more needed repair. The Hydra was almost entirely unscathed. Being the command ship ensured a certain amount of safety and the Yokudan ships has an unimpressive kill range. Further still, he discerned from the signals that he needed to head home very soon or lose his men to starvation.

His ambition stayed, however, and he gave out orders to parlay with the Altmer command ship. White smoke, traditionally used by navies the continent over to signal intention of talks, plumed up from his boat. He licked his lips waiting for the return signal.

The Aldmeris still cut through the waves like a sharp knife, even damaged as it was. Orthos looked to his first mate and nodded silently, after witnessing the white smoke rise from their flag ship. The Lord Admiral prepared several of his better sailors and fighters and formed a boarding party consisting of six Altmer, including Orthos. Ever attempting to make themselves look better, the first mate gave the order to begin cleaning and scrubbing the ship.

As the Altmer ship approached, it appeared a hive of activity with cleaning, sailing, and orders being shouted out. Yet as their ship drew near, the Altmer would drop anchor and prepare to meet with these Maormer.

“Hail, Altmer!” Came the shout from the ambitious Captain. “What good fortune to meet you under the flag of peace. I invite you to come aboard, or we shall come aboard your vessel if you wish.” His words were friendly, certainly. The Captain was somewhat of a progressive and even he longed for the chance to sink every Altmer boat and retake Summerset. Still, this would get him Admiralty for sure.

Orthos made a signal to his landing party, and they grabbed a large gangplank, big enough for three to walk across abreast at once. It took precious little time for the Altmers to board, and Orthos smiled fakely as he got his first good look at these Maormer. Their ships were horrifying and lethal, and these Sea Elves looked the same. They lacked the golden hue of the High Elves, and their skin color reminded him of a bloated corpse. He suddenly realized why the Altmer had fought so hard to keep the Maormer off their shores.
With a slight shiver running up his spine, Orthos nodded to this Captain.

“It is indeed invaluable to find other maritime elves who share our hatred for the Yokudan. Your people have been lost to the mists for a very long time, and not all among the Altmer were even sure your race still lived. Yet here you are. Tell me, Captain, what business does the Maormer have with the Yokudan?”

“Simple vengeance,” the Maormer said noting the High Elf’s coolness, “The Yokudans were owed it ages ago.” He countered the question, hoping to be able to move things past the hostilities of the past and onto those of the future, where opportunity lie. “And what is your business with them?” He settled the empty white Maormer eyes on the Altmer. It always was fun to see them squirm under that gaze they found “unnatural.”

Orthos honestly wasn’t sure how to respond to that. The Maormer were far too ignorant of everything to possibly understand the political landscape of Tamriel at the moment, nor would this Captain understand the fact that Orthos had to make a decision without his superior there, and must live with the consequences of his choice. He sighed, and his eyes looked up into the cool blue skye, with tufts of white puffy clouds strolling by...

Looking into the Maormer deadened eyes seriously, the Lord Admiral spoke;
“The Bosmer, our cousin race has occupied Valenwood for a very long time, and were once allies of the Dominion and the Altmer. Recently, they have betrayed us and spies reported to the Dominion that they were willing to give their coast to the Yokudan in return for safety and amnesty for their ‘crimes’.” It was obvious what Orthos thought of the supposed crimes of the Dominion, but he continued on regardless.

“My Grace, The High King Aelid of the Summerset Isles was in a Summit very far away, and I was under the suspicion the Yokudan wanted to use the Valenwood coast as a staging ground for invading my home. I decided to strike first, and take my own staging ground for invading THEIR home, and seeing how they like it…” Orthos finished his explanation and looked over his shoulder to the scorched and war-torn island. He knew that taking the sea was only the beginning.

The pale elf lit up at the mention of taking someone’s home from them. “Stken’s Weakness is clear enough” he said, following the gaze of Orthos. “It’s good your race hasn’t given into such things.” The Captain relished at the news of a Yokudan/Altmer war. He could easily convince the Yokudans…. oh. Right. “Your forced took considerable losses.” He said, hoping to poke the Altmer just a bit. “King Orgnum sent word to Alinor, did you hear?”

Orthos actually smiled a cruel smile at the Maormer when he spoke of the Altmer losses, and replied with a sharp tongue;
“Aye, we did lose more ships, and more sailors. But we also won the battle. We killed perhaps as many as three times as many Yokudan as you, Maormer. While your aid was invaluable, if you wish to impress me with your navy, you’ll have to do better than a token force aiding my Royal Fleet during its operations.” He nearly chuckled at the imputence of the white fleshed mutant, and when asking about Orgnum’s word, he actually considered lying.

The Maormer were ugly and beastly, this was true. But they also had an animal’s cunning and an serpent's stealth. They were deformed and lethal to the Lord Admiral, but he would not lie to this Captain. He was Altmer, and he was proud. He was the true descendant of the Aldmer, out of the two. It was obvious to all.

“I did, and I had it sent to my High King, as the return of a peoples such as yours is not to be taken lightly… My King should actually be returning to the Summer Isles today, I believe. I’m sure he would meet with Orgnum soon to find out what your people want of mine..”

At the Altmer’s insult the Captain had a quick thought. “Ah, yes, you’re probably right. Such an impressive fleet wouldn’t desire any unworthy help we could give.” He turned to his first mate “Come, let us take our token force to other waters. The noble Altmer will surely invade and conquer Hammerfell tomorrow. We shall go be taken lightly with the other races on this continent.” He turned back to Orthos, evidently awaiting a signal from which he would depart or resume speaking with the Admiral.

Orthos gritted his teeth in annoyance with the insolence of the creature, it had aided in his battle, and he honestly wasn’t sure the outcome without their arrival. The Altmer probably would have won still, but how much worse the losses..? This beast of a thing had saved High Elf lives this day, and Orthos must acknowledge that. Yet he would not be kept under the yoke of any, especially a Maormer.

“Not tomorrow. Perhaps by the end of the week though.” Orthos cutting smile appeared again, that smile that seemed to brim with malice and viciousness. He turned back to his boarding party and they looked at him expectantly. He motioned for them to begin retreating back to their flagship, yet as they moved he turned back to his Captain. Orthos decided to be honest.

“I don’t like you, creature. You smell of fish and sea salt, yet in a dying way. Your people and mine have never been brothers, and I doubt we ever will. But I would thank you for your aid this day, honestly. I dislike you, but I do appreciate your contribution to the Dominion, and for the saving of Altmer lives.” With that, he turned and crossed the gangplank, moving briskly yet with the all the natural grace of his people.

Their relationship with the Maormer would be a strange one indeed.

The Captain bowed slightly to Orthos. “Your honesty surfaces. So does mine. My crew desires to sink your vessels in their hearts, to take your shores with blood. Our passions are deep, and our conviction strong. However, you have heard the words of King Orgnum and so have we. Your ships and lives are not any debt we wish to hold. And now, Admiral, you must invite us to your ship to speak. We have something to offer.”

The Lord Admiral raised a eyebrow expectantly, and motioned for the Maormer to follow. He crossed the gangplank, and immediately felt relief upon being back on Altmer wood. The sailors had cleaned the ship the best they could, and the fires had been put out. Presentation was everything to the High Elves. Orthos was appreciative of the Captain’s honesty as well, as he had learned after many years at sea that it isn’t the man who tells you he hates you that you need to worry about. It’s the ones who don’t.

He would lead them to the Captain’s Quarters, and inside it looked like beautiful chaos. Many silks and bright warm colors were in the cabin, yet the battle had sent his large desk onto it’s side, and the window had been shot out by a spell. Orthos ordered the desk flipped onto it’s correct side, and everyone picked up what wooden chairs survived the carnage. Sitting around the desk, Orthos nodded.
“And what does the Maormer have for us, eh..? It doesn’t seem likely you would come to my people with gifts. Though it also doesn’t seem likely that you would come to my peoples aid in a battle. Suppose anything is possible these days.” He said with a slight smile, this one smaller and more hidden, but genuine and filled with warmth.

The Captain and the men he’d brought sniffed the air. Thy wondered at how a ship of the sea could be so dry in smell and decor. Their feet retched at the feeling of a wooden ship, and the primitive construction of the boats assaulted their eyes. The Altmer still used fixed sails! Nowhere were symbols of sophisticated civilisation until they entered the Admiral’s quarters. Even then they found evidence of eight, at best, Altmer gods. “So the Altmer still forgot who it is they are and forsake everything about where they claim to be from.” Thought the Captain.

“We offer you peaceful waters, of course. An existence without fear of your shores being taken, or our ships on yours. Anything more I cannot promise. King Orgnum, the god Satakal,” he said slightly emphasising the word ‘god’, “Is the only one who can speak of more. Of course, we did help with the battle. In return we should expect fair use of the island. Stken’s Weakness is an
excellent place for a forward naval base.”

Orthos could more sense than have any true knowledge of the Captain’s crawling eyes, judging their Flag ship. It annoyed the Altmer that such a creature would dare judge their superior craftsmanship, and the Altmer assumed the voice that all of his kind could. The voice of hostile politeness, the warmth of your mother with the words of a mugger.
“I’m terribly sorry about the state of the ship, I’m sure you’ll forgive me. As you know, we were busy actually fighting the battle.” The inclusion of the word ‘actually’ was minor, but he knew the Maormer too clever to miss that little jab.

“As far as peaceful waters go, we would accept this. The Dominion currently has no true quarrel with the Sea Elves, and though we already live in a existance with fear of our shores being taken, it is pleasant to know you will not try such a foolish thing again.”

When the Lord Admiral heard the slight emphasis on their King as a God, Orthos’ first reaction was to call him a heretic and blasphemer, such as all High Elves were taught. The Thalmor had drilled it into their heads. Yet the Altmer decided to let the comment go, as he was here to rule the seas, not argue over Gods.

“You have aided us in this Victory, and it is only fair that you chair in the Spoils of War. Though I must ask for a greater contribution I am afraid. We must make sure that nobody slips in or out of that island until we are prepared. The majority of the ships in my fleet are now forming this blockade. We would appreciate assistance in the form of having your ships aid in the blockade, sailing south and alerting Alinor as to what has happened, or even sending land troops for the siege of the fortress itself. Yes, there is room on this isle for the two of us. Though we must ask you pull your weight.” The last sentence was a challenge, and Orthos had meant it thus. The ships the Maormer had sent had been effective, but he was eager for them to prove their strength, as the Royal Fleet had just done before them.

“Of course, of course, as long as your ships held an equal presence to mine in power. Say… sixty ships. Additionally, we are only a lightly armed and supplied force so we will require basic supplies in order to stay in these waters for much longer. Else, we must depart.”

“Departing would mean losing this naval base for you as well. I will load your ships up with whatever supplies we have, we should have a fair amount, as we have been at sea for only a couple days. I will leave sixty ships with you, and take the remaining ten back to Alinor to see if I can raise more ships and a Invasion party. What say you to this?”

“You could merely leave the Yokudans to starve without supply from the mainland. It is a fate they deserve and will take but a week. To all other terms, I agree. I will send one ship back to our Admiral as news. The two most powerful navies in Tamriel not destroying each other. I bet the men will quiver at night.” The Maormer smiled like someone who had tasted a delicious fish.

---

Actions
Meet with Cyrodiil. Learn current history and have knowledge of Tamriel.
Meet with Altmer. Ceasefire agreement underway! Resupply of Maormer fleet, co-blockade of island. Message to Uldindol sent!

Valenwood

The Legate and his forces ground to a halt on the command, being yelled down the line by various officers, as the Keeper arrived. Legate Barus looked to the keeper in confusion before speaking "Is there something you need, noble Keeper?" He asked

Cyrodiilic Disconnect

The Emperor, upon hearing news of this new disease and it's effects, decides that now would not, in fact, be a very good time for a disease epidemic and instead sends word to the Arcane university and to alchemists across the land, stating that the Empire will pay whoever finds the cure for the disease handsomely.

Orsinium

Agnar and his small group of body guards have arrived at Orsinium to meet the Orcs, he had to admit that the Orcs were brave to start a city here between Skyrim and Hammerfell, but he supposed they had no where else to go. Disembarking from his horse, he and his body guards proceed towards the city of Orsinium and call out with a request for the gates to be opened and let them in
"We're from the Empire, we were told to send an Emissary here after the Summit!"

Imperial City

The Emperor sat at the desk, reading over the letter from the Count of Leyawiin, talking of the Maormer. Was this some form of joke? He would have thought so, had the Count not sent some alien chitin jewellery up with the letter to prove his point. Could it be from Pyandonea? Why had they resurfaced now, was this some turning point... Did they want to take Tamriel still, or did they have less nefarious and more friendly intentions? He placed the letter down on the desk, turning and walking to the map of Nirn on the wall behind him, looking to the island of Pyandonea below Tamriel. Stories told tales of endless riches, sea serpents and alien ships. A strong ally, and a terrifying opponent. Which side would it take, if any? It was a wild card in the equation for sure, one that could potentially be a gamble... with potentially great payoff.

He looked over the map again, observing his Empire. Mede had lost Skyrim, he had gained Elsweyr. Not a grand trade... he needed to convince Skyrim to come back, the Nords and the Imperials always had been great when united together, ever since the days of Tiber Septim.
But he could not turn a blind eye to the atrocities of the Stormcloak uprising, the death of Tullius and the... 'disappearances' of opponents to the High King that he suspected were political purges. No, after all that he couldn't just take them even if they did want to come back to the Empire, in addition to the usual treaties and agreements and negotiations there would likely have to be talks of the Stormcloak rebellion and it's ills.

There was a knock on the door, and Gaius called out for whoever it was to enter. The door creaked open and a proud looking man with eager brown eyes and dark short dark hair, wearing Imperial Legate armour with his helmet in hand, stepped through. Raising his hand to his chest in salute
"Tribune Crassus" Gaius said with a smile
"My Emperor, the guardsmen report that a Redguard has just been granted access to the city, he has come to talk about the agreement made by Councillor Albuttian at the Summit." The Tribune said, lowering his hand from his chest
"Have the Watch bring him to the Palace, I shall be down to meet with him shortly" Gaius said, turning back to the map on the wall. The Tribune nodded
"Yes My Emperor" He said, as he turned and marched out the room, dispatching two palace guards to bring Ciralen to the palace

The keeper sighed softly to regain his composure before he gently moved the legate away from his forces to speak privately to him "honorable legate, you must stop this March into elyswer. Their was a spy discovered in the southern area of elyswer it was a bosmer but he held no tattoos or war paint making him as one of the brothers of the forest. Meaning it was obviously a bosmer from the cities which we don't know, what we do know is that if you match into elyswer you will start an unnecessary war. Trust my bosmer to grab the spy and bring him back for interrogation before you March"the keeper said to explain everything he could knowing the man wouldn't go to war without cause and if their is a spy then it means theirs something much worse happening in kahjit territory

Valenwood

"A bosmer spy? What evidence is there of this, may he not just be a city bosmer? How do you know he is a spy But you have my attention, either the south will be reclaimed or it has been reclaimed, either way we cannot risk foreign agents snooping around and sticking their nose in every thing they find." Legate Barus said "There's already a war going on in Elsweyr, I can't afford to delay, are you certain that he's a spy? Who discovered this?"

The keeper whistled loudly and the bosmer that came from elyswrr came down to explain

"Just as my keeper says we believe he's a spy. Look at both me and the keeper both of us wear a tattoo or war paint on our faces while this bosmer had none and no bosmer would ever remove their war paint for it is an eternal shame to their clan. He was also being taken away by kahjit guards from the coast when we saw them. He was wearing a cloak but it had no hood, we have reason to believe this bosmer is meant to be a scapegoat to what we don't know. However me and my brothers in elyswer can look into it if the keeper orders"

Jangel13 said
The keeper whistled loudly and the bosmer that came from elyswrr came down to explain"Just as my keeper says we believe he's a spy. Look at both new and the keeper both of us wear a tattoo our face passing on our faces while this bosmer had none and no bosmer would ever remove their war paint for it is an eternal shame to their clan. He was also being taken away by kahjit guards from the coast when we saw them. He was wearing a cloak but it had no hood, we have reason to believe this bosmer is meant to be a scapegoat to what we don't know. However me and my brothers in elyswer can look into it if the keeper orders"

"But does that not mean he may be simply a Bosmer from the cities? They don't wear face paint, and there are bosmer living in Elsweyr as well as Khajiit, even if they don't tend to get along" Barus said, folding his arms "Very well, please look into it if you feel so strongly that it may be a spy, I have to keep moving towards Elsweyr though, the orders cannot be ignored and delaying could be dangerous."

fair enough but promise me you wont initiate control of the area till my men give you the informant they gathered about the situation. you must trust me in this that their is something bigger going on then we realize" the keeper said and he turned to his brother "go to your brothers in elyswer and if need be bring a few more hunters with you. your mission is to confirm that he is a spy. if you cant confirm that it was a spy and their purpose for being their then you are to go to the legate and tell him he is free to act as ordered" the bosmer nodded and quickly ran through the trees to gather more hunters to complete the operation "give my men 24 hours and they will have your answer"

Lord Admiral Orthos of the Royal Fleet
27th of Mid Year
The Coast of Summerset

The Aldmeris had been leading ten other Altmer ships homeward for just over a day when a call came to Orthos from the crow’s nest. At first, the sent panic through the Altmer Admiral, yet the reports seemed to be good. The High King Aelid’s Flag Ship Sea Smoke was the only other Titan Class ship the Aldmeri Navy had, yet these two ships were mighty indeed. Aelid appeared to have a escort of roughly forty ships with him from the summit. Thinking quickly, Orthos realized they had left a hundred or so ships in dock at Alinor. Altogether, this would leave 150 ships in Alinor once they had returned, and 60 waiting at Stken’s Weakness, as the Maormer had called it.

Orthos ordered his ships to alter course, coming into formation with the King’s Fleet. Once they drew near each other, their paths continued towards home, and Orthos was eager to see his King once more. He wondered how the Regency of Nelron had gone in his absence, nor if anyone had heard word of the battle. He was sure they would all know of his Victory soon. Yet he had to wonder what had Aelid done for the Dominion in this time..?

---

Lord Regent Nelron of the Aldmeri Dominion
29th of Mid Year
Alinor, Summerset Isles, Capital of the Aldmeri Dominion.

The Lord Regent had trouble keeping his eyes open now, and was fairly sure that it was only his own magical fortitude that kept him connected to this plane now. The Justicar Revin now took care of near all Regent responsibilities, and Nelron retreated to his chambers earlier and earlier. Yet the wizened mage still had some life to him, and on this day he called together many prominent mages and members of the court.

“My friends…” Nelron began warily, already tired from exertion.

“It has come to my attention that The Arcane Society is growing small in number, as we are a low numbered race. Yet I know still many young Altmer still live in cities working for shops and living subpar lives. I have gathered you here today to begin a recruitment drive for the Society across the Isles. Our people are the best and brightest when It comes to the Arcane in all of Tamriel, and letting the Society die out would be a terrible shame.” Several of the members seemed to nod in affirmation, and it was only out of the corner of Nelron’s eye that he saw Revin seeming to roll his eyes. He continued on regardless…

“Let this be a generation of magicka and wizards! The current Arch-Mage is very busy with a secret project of her own, and that is why this task of a Recruitment drive must fall to you. I trust you shall not fail me…” He finished his talking winded, and the Altmer bowed their heads respectfully before leaving. It was only after the last of his court had left other than the Thalmor did his strength finally leave him, and he collapsed on the cold glass floor of the High Elves.

---

Arch-Mage Valina of the Arcane Society
29th of Mid Year
The Arcane Society, Alinor.[/b]

The ebb and flow of the ritual had been going for hours, and several of the most powerful mages she could find had slumped to the floor, unconscious. Out of the original eight who started the circle, only three remained including Valina. The markings on the floor glowed with a unnatural golden hue. The large black soul gem was levitating in the center of the room, giving off large pulses of light and energy occasionally. The mages could feel themselves being drained, and did not know how much longer they could withstand this lechery. The woman’s brow furrowed in concentration, and she pushed herself further, devoting more of her energy to the ritual.

It glowed with a renewed intensity for a moment, before what almost seemed to be a light singing could be heard behind every ear. It grew slowly In volume, and now the black soul gem was spinning in midair faster and faster, gaining speed. A large explosion of light and heat would envelop the room, and none could move, though all could feel the flames whipping at their skin like flame atronochs. One of the three remaining wizards fainted now, used up. Valina focused what remained of her in a ward now, no longer caring for the ritual.

The ward protected her for the majority, and she found the ritual needed no help now as it was strongly going. The roar of a God shook the chamber and it appeared a whip made of both fire and lightning would strike the black soul gem, causing a shattering Valina had never heard before. The chamber became an orchestra of light, sound, and heat, and three large lightning cracks struck the center of the chamber, before a dark stillness took the room.

It was done.

Yet unlike Valina thought would happen, they had indeed not infused massive amounts of the arcane into a living Mer. Instead, she had found the massive amounts of arcane energy they had channeled had been used to write on the floor the following;

“Secunda bows to the Death of the Mane.
Masser bows to the Death of a God.”

Valina knew immediately that this message from the Gods had Great Power, and it seemed only just that the Elder Scroll her people had found would shortly go missing soon after, its purpose fulfilled. She passed out from the exertion, her eyes landing on Aiden as she fell into darkness…

---

Agent Aiden of the Renshi , Servant of the Dominion, Double Agent.
29th of Mid-Year
Alinor, Summerset Isles, Capital of the Dominion.

Aiden had witnessed many things during his time with The Renshi, but never had he witnessed such massive amounts of power being concentrated on once. He read the message written in the chamber, written in the old Elven tongue, before watching Valina fall. Though he wished desperately to rush to her aid and comfort her, he knew he had tasks to do. He immediately fled the chamber, rushing to the Palace to tell the Justicar Revin of what had transpired. Yet as he rushed, he noticed many more Thalmor soldiers congregating near the palace.

He made his way to the front gates, and was stopped by a Thalmor patrol.

“None may enter the Palace without the permission of the High Justicar.” Spoke of the Altmer with a bit of a bite to his voice, shooing Aiden away.

“But the High Justicar is in Argonia with the High King!” Argued the Renshi

“Then it looks like you won’t be getting in, now will you?” The guard replied.

Aiden didn’t have time for this, and he brushed past the Thalmor brutes angrily, announcing he worked for Revin. Though the Thalmor seemed shocked at his use of force, at the mention of Revin they let him go. The young double agent made his way through the glittering halls and glass windows one final time, before the Throne Room approached.

Entering into such a prestigious Hall was always a honor, but Aiden found himself horrified at the sight before him. The Lord Regent Nelron, was laying before the Throne on his stomach, blood leaking from his nose and mouth, his eyes rolled up into his skull.

The Justicar Revin sat on the Throne with relish, and he smirked at Aiden as he entered the palace. Revin appeared comfortable on the throne, and looked as if he had fantasized about this moment for a long time coming.

“This stops now, Revin!” Aiden challenged, stepping towards the Justicar angrily. He knew Walden would be ashamed if he knew that Aiden had been dispatched to deal with this, and because of him, the Lord Regent was dead. Revin’s smile persisted, though it seemed colder now that before.

“I truly must thank you for keeping a eye on Valina for me, Aiden. I thought she just might uncover us after all. But you kept her perfectly busy with Nelron’s foolish plans. Now that Nelron has passed, I am Lord Regent, and I think I’m going-“ Revin was cut off.

Valina burst into the Throne Room and rushed forward, her robes cut and a slash on her cheek. The woman collapsed before the dead Nelron, and once more Aiden felt shame. He genuinely cared for this girl, and now the man she considered a father was dead. She sobbed into the chest of the fallen Lord Regent, and Aiden turned back to Revin. He drew the ceremonial blade and dagger from their sheaths, and he looked a true Renshi.

“You think you can hope to right your wrongs? To redeem yourself from the crimes you’ve committed..? No, Aiden. You are just as lost as me, and if this Rebellion loses, your head will be taken as quick as mine.”
“No! I’m here to stop you. I always have been!” He roared angrily.

”YOU’LL DIE FOR THIS!” Valina screamed suddenly, twisting around to confront the two mer. Her eyes were covered with hair and tears, though they seemed to glow with an inner hatred. Her body seemed to contort with fury and malice, and a bolt of lightning sprung forth from both of her hands, sending the Justicar Revin through a glass window nearby, and to his death.

Aiden received a blast as well, though hit a wall instead a window. Valina collapsed once more onto Nelron, and this time Aiden feared her dead. The blast from her had sent Aiden flying back far enough to crack the wall, and he felt his breathing become labored. As one of the Renshi, he knew a fatal wound when he came upon one. He heard boots stomping down the hall, obviously attempting to discover the cause of this madness. Aiden gripped his dagger tightly, his knuckles white from exertion.

He knew he had only one task left as part of the Renshi, and that was a death on his terms, of his own choosing. The blade slide into his stomach, and he cut to his right and then up, as Lord General Walden had taught all the Renshi many times…

---

Lord General Walden of the Renshi
29th of Mid Year
Alinor, Summerset Isle, Capital of the Island.

Walden knew something was wrong almost immediately when he realized the Thalmor were restricting entry into the Palace. He had gathered several Renshi and confronted the Thalmor guardsmen. The first group Walden and the Renshi slaughtered with their Twin Blades, while the second group lay down arms in horror, after witnessing their skill.

Walden had them burst down the Throne Room door, and rushed into the Throne Room to find place in Chaos. A Renshi was trained to see more in a single glance than most men see in a life time, and as such Walden knew what was going on at a seemingly inhuman rate. Nelron was collapsed on the floor, probably dead due to his age. He saw the ragged breathing of the new Arch-Mage, Valina, and finally, he saw Aiden. The poor Aiden…

Walden rushed forward to the young Altmer, and immediately he recalled talking to the young High Elf in the gardens of Alinor. Walden had tasked him with this task, and it was obvious the boy hadn’t been ready.
’Taken by surprise… by Revin, probably.’ Walden thought bitterly, before the young altmer spoke out in a ragged bloodied gasp;

“Lord General! I-.. I’m sorry. I fa-… failed you..” His words were closer to whispers, but Walden cradled the dying mer in his arms as he spoke his last words. Walden turned his face away, attempting to hide a single tear.

“Auri-El take you, Aiden of the Renshi.” Walden said solemnly, closing the Elves open and deadened eyes.

The Thalmor would pay for this treachery. Walden swore it, on Auri-El AND on Talos.

They would pay.