"The little lass and Saxhleel are right."

Rawlith voice spoke up again after the duo of males finished there introductions. He was smiling, in the manner that the feline-folk do with their jowls and beast expression. He released his once again crossed arms and stood moving to the map Delphine left for the group while pointing to Kynesgrove. He then looked at everyone, his orbs shining lightly in the torchlight of the room while they flickered with the vibrant flakes that allowed him his low-light vision.

"They speak like this one, they redirect the same point as this one did. We are not hear to vouch for our powers, we are not hear to herald our tales of great necromancy and spell-bound achievements. No matter our opinions, no matter our feelings, no matter our weaknesses, we are all heading to Kynesgrove. Delphine made that clear, and this one respects the ideal of introducing ourselves, but such does not require such trivial quarreling, and ranting of one's status and power. Now, Delphine also said we would split up after Kynesgrove.." He let his sentence sit a moment while he examined the marked locations and found the one he was looking for in Whiterun Hold. "This one has been to one already, he found it while taking his steps towards another endeavor. This one will want to travel to this one after Kynesgrove." He stated while looking about the room. "This one did not mean to so boldly insert himself earlier with the roar, but this one feels it was necessary to bring an end to the foolery. This one would like to introduce himself, He is Rawlith-Dar. This one is a skilled wearer of medium armor, Bonemold to be specific. He also wields bonemold axes, he favors then over other weapons. This one has trained to be both strong, and agile. This one is Cathay, a sub-species of Khajiit with both a grand strength and grand agility." He stated to the people.

"This one hopes you will accept him as his own tribe had, this journey will certainly require us to all come together." He added while he left the map and returned to place himself against the back wall, going quiet again as if he hadn't even spoken to them.

Dreet-Na continued to listen, fortunately the heated situation was seeming to resolve itself as others of the group spoke of cooperation before the nord who had spoken earlier followed the red-eyed one’s lead and introduced his strengths, followed by his imperial companion who introduced himself as Leonidas. Making another note in his book about the pair Dreet-Na turned his attention to the Khajiit as he spoke, making note that he had referred to him as a Saxhleel rather than Argonian. ‘Perhaps this Khajiit is more intellectually inclined than those I have met before’ he thought to himself briefly, somewhat impressed that he had used the Jel word for Argonian.

The Khajiit proceeded to speak further, adding more weight to his point before turning his attention to the map. He spoke of his intention to head to one of the markers that was located somewhere near Whiterun, stating that he had already stumbled upon it. Questions sprung into Dreet-Na’s mind, curious about what he had discovered on his previous visit, but before he could ask the Khajiit began to apologise for his ear-splitting outburst earlier before introducing himself. His name was Rawlith-Dar and he seemed to be primarily a warrior of sorts, though his choice of weapon and armour were exotic – Dreet-Na having not heard of Bonemold being used outside of Morrowind. Distracted for a moment Dreet-Na remembered the Dunmer folk law legend he had once read about the creation of Bonemold armour, it being accredited to a noble lord by the name of Arslic Oan who was granted a castle and land by his king, but after building a stronghold and settling down with his many slaves they fell under attack from a tribe of cannibalistic nords who began attacking Arslic's slaves in the fields. The nords allegedly grew bolder, until they held the very stronghold itself under siege. After several failed attempts at sending his slaves to fetch water from a river, Arslic asked his armorer, Gorkith, to forge an armour sturdier than leather but lighter than metal. Bonemold armor was the apparent answer and although seventeen of his slaves were killed and eaten in the subsequent attempt, one made it back with a jar of water. Dreet-Na suppressed the urge to share the tale, knowing that there were far more important matters at hand than the origins of Rawlith-Dar’s armour of choice.

“This one is Cathay, a sub-species of Khajiit with both a grand strength and grand agility” explained Rawlith-Dar, again peaking Dreet-Na’s curiosity, as he knew that there were allegedly several sub-species of Khajiit, however up until now he had remained intentionally ignorant of any knowledge regarding this – due to his dislike of the race as a whole.

"This one hopes you will accept him as his own tribe had, this journey will certainly require us to all come together." Finished the Khajiit before returning to his place against the back wall.

Dreet-Na considered what he had heard and the manner this Khajiit held himself, again finding himself more curious than he would have thought. He had not found Rawlith-Dar’s speech as frustrating and foolish as he had that of other Khajiits, usually finding great annoyance at their habit of referring to themselves in the third person or as ‘this one’, and so made a mental note to try and keep his prejudice in check for the moment – at least where Rawlith-Dar was concerned.

Taking the brief lull in conversation as his opportunity Dreet-Na cleared his throat again before he spoke “As I have said, I am a scholar first, and so I would suppose that my primary talent is within knowledge. However I am most proficient with the schools of Restoration, Alteration and what was formerly known as Mysticism. I have skills in the other schools but have not focused upon them as thoroughly. I cannot enchant items and I have only little skill in Alchemy.”

He finished as quickly as he had started, turning his gaze to the next of the companions expectantly as he once more lit his pipe, his quill poised ready above the book.

Rozalia was silent as the introductions went around the room, the tension considerably lighter. Huh. That Niko guy was pretty good with words. As the Argonian began his introduction, she wondered idly what she herself would say. A thief? No, she needed to make herself sound more impressive than that. She was an expert sneak, but again, not really a useful thing to have for hunting down dragons. Lock-picking, pick-pocketing, speech... those were her fortes. But nothing useful against a dragon.
Well, She thought to herself. Looks like I'm going to have to dig into the ol' bag of horseshit for this.
Sitting up straighter - although not standing - she gave the room a half-smile.
"Well, I'm Rozalia. As you've obviously already noticed, I'm a rogue - most can't see me when I get into the shadows," she darted a sly glare at Vincent, who hadn't spoken much more after dropping the helmet - ", but I'm an all round good at everything sort of girl." She said, then paused, realizing that had sounded pretty big-headed. "Well, what I mean is I'm good with my blades, I'm good - no, pretty good - with my bow, and my Breton blood gives me a good foothold when it comes to magic." She finished, not bothering to mention that despite her Breton blood, she didn't really partake in magic. Oh, boy. She was gonna have to work on that one. "And, I'm an excellent people person. I can talk my way out of anything." She added with a roguish grin, not mentioning the incident with her new vampire friend, and praying he wouldn't either. Never before had first impressions mattered so much.

The taverns had been riddled with the circulating tale of a dragon vanquished upon the watch tower, the bones rattling against stone as the beast’s mighty soul was rent from its heart, igniting like golden flame and absorbed into the very being that was he - Alyx. Saasi had been skeptical to believe it, foolish tales woven under the stars by Bards or whatever purveyor of dreams had concocted, it seems too grand of an epic of burial grounds and arisen creatures of a long forgotten past. She had seen the ruins, the various masonry done under the harsh winters, she had seen the markings and the depictions of heroes and worships under the leathery might of their Draconic lords. But that was all it had been to her, a history, a past of renown that every Nord knew by heart and soul, so what was to keep them from crafting some other marvelous feat?

But old habits die hard, notions die even slower, and Saasi could not banish the curious reflection of “what if” from her mind, and no amount of honeyed mead could violate her thoughts as the stories spread and grew, sweltering into more than just rumours. It bled into fear, fear of an unknown future, of Fate, there was a black dragon they began to dread and every mighty gale of wind was told to carry the roar of a dragon that dominated and ruled the mountains high above with their peaks as mere roosts for their sheer legendary selves. Saasi’s mind began to reel and the figurative cogs began to grind from the former deluge of mindless drifting, a sense of purpose spurred her memory, bid for the dark woman to pry further into these rumours, to the point that she began to memorize the woeful songs and poetic prose of those who believed that their very world was meant to burn in righteous dragon fire. Saasi could care less for the fate of Nirn, for it Fate deemed them to die, then so be it - a rest was welcome. But what truly fueled the theories in her heart were those murmurs of scale and bone, eyes of fiery malice and intelligence that no Man, Beast or Mer could ever hope to conquer without their champion of the Thu'um.

Thus, when she inquired about the Dovahfeyn, a title she found interesting if nothing else, various individuals gestured skyward and began prattling on about men of high revere and grace and Throat of the World - something to which meant little to Saasi but in her cross country travels: hitching upon various caravans; making measly coin along the way with her twin axes; and having to endure grueling conversations and social charges, she had further nurtured her knowledge about the Dovah and the late Alyx. About the Grey Beards and the Thu'um, the shout as some would say. Saasi also became an inquirer of the rebellion, of the crests of wolf and bear and the circulating rumour of dragon tongue being utilized in the ascending civil war. The latter was something she knew personally, of no different of circumstances between her family of Crowns and Forebears, and the comparison made Saasi feel more weary, sullen and woeful of this supposed quest to bring down Alduin - the World Eater. It was an ironic notion that dire circumstances would bring the provinces and nations together under one valorous feat, and still people flocked, they swarmed the inns and taverns and masses to Ivarstead where Saasi had found lodging many days prior before the aforementioned swell came. It had bid her to stay within the backdrop, drawing little attention to herself by keeping to her room most of the time whilst others surrounded the foyer. Making way up those steps was something Saasi dreaded during her preparation at Vilemyr, mainly for that dry, biting coldness that Skyrim heralded on a daily basis where as she favoured the southern humidity, the thickest of foliage that brewed with it a steam and tangible air of warmth. But she had shrugged her cloak and swathed a length of fabric around the lower hemisphere of her visage, wished for a massive hearth and unwound her wild, oil slick coloured hair from its plait and let it suffice as enough as she began that Seven Thousand step, unknowingly following and treading behind her companions to come.

---

Saasi breathed into her cupped palms, producing a plume of white within the breadth of her bitten fingers as she knelt and read the tenth tablet along this cursed journey, the epitaphs before it foretelling a story that she had only recently learned of. She had seen many pilgrims do the same as she was, seemingly enthralled by their prose. Saasi found it alluring, brushing her dark fingers over the grooves in the stone before she swept away from it, peering through the fog where the landscape veered upward, further into an unknown destination. She had contemplated turning back on many occasions, for surely she would see a dragon soon enough as they scoured and scorched the mountain side, but something attracted her further up those steps and as she made this endeavor alone, she reflected. Saasi had been on her own for a long, extended time, and joining with a group of gathered fortune seekers or those yearning for fame did not exactly excite her, she was used to and a beloved of solitude. Saasi did not desire fame or fortune of any kind, and her apathetic dissociation left others ill favouring of her company as she merely gazed and hummed her vague consents into conversation. Her often cryptic intonations left much to be desired with the various layers of herself that she had fortified with the best proverbial lock she could manage. For whatever reason Saasi designated it for, she had succeeded thus far in avoiding most from accompanying her upon her random browse into the country side whilst she came upon shrines, ruins, whatever lost masonry Skyrim had to offer that wasn’t riddled with the occasional bandit troupe.

Her musings left her dismissive of her surroundings, in which she had not encountered much of the ill rumoured fauna on her climb, though occasionally she had seen the snow blotched with the faintest rouge of blood and had wondered on whatever creature the pilgrim had encountered in the frigid wilderness. Saasi shrugged her cloak tighter, her boots sinking through snow before she heaved herself up the final leg of her journey and was distracted momentarily by the view of the province spread before her. The illustration of dipping valleys and ascending peaks and, what she assumed, as homes plotting the landscape between sparse of trees and lakes of natural origin was admittedly breath taking. Saasi breathed in the thin air through the fabric against her lips, her breath coming in quicker inhales as she finally acknowledged the actual height of her ascension, it chilled her to the bone as she gazed up at the looming monastery and hastened her treads at the possibility of that aforementioned hearth she wished upon and used her shoulder to shunt open the ancient doors.

There was an ominous drone, a deep vibration of sound that signaled her arrival with the marrow-chattering noise of the door falling closed behind her. Saasi momentarily allowed her golden eyes to take in the dark interior and the overall coiling perfume of aged parchment and warm stone, the entire foyer spacious enough for the pottery and paraphernalia of the Grey Beards. There were curious statues and carvings into the walls that Saasi loomed closer to examine when a voice suddenly boomed across her lobe. Her gestures stilled, her fist of iron poised mid-way as she swung about on her boot and faced her would-be hosts. Donned in robes, with their faces veiled by hoods, Saasi examined each and everyone of them, the men seeming to blend into one another by whatever power they withheld, Saasi could feel the tremor of something ancient and benevolent about their dispositions and her former tense posture waned, relaxing for a brief moment as she gazed at them.

“We thought all of the pilgrims had arrived,” one began, his baritone soft and edged in a whisper of some sort, a peculiar accent Saasi had not heard before in a Nord - but she remained silent, as was her custom. Her only indication of answer was to drop her pack, letting it clatter on the equally elaborate floor, in which a woman that had previously stood behind them edged around to the front, brow arched.

“Are you here for the Dovahfeyn?” she inquired. Saasi blinked, a slow fall of her dark lashes that was enough of an answer as the blonde Imperial was going to receive. Her lips pursed, taking charge and list of the Redguard before who had yet to move or speak for that matter, but there was a harsh edge about her, despite all the forged carelessness and slow, nearly purposely done laziness about her. It was a languid deadliness, and she did not miss the bulge of weaponry upon her spine despite the shrug of her cloak, her capability had yet to be seen, but she was a warrior none the less. How much of one though, Delphine could not wager, not without seeing how she fared with their assemblage. The two squared off their stares, silent hanging heavy before the Grey Beard who had spoken before once again swept forward, the silence and heavy deluge of magic about him made Saasi flinch - it did not go unnoticed.

“You have journeyed a long way, much like the others before you.” He uttered carefully, gesturing vaguely for Saasi to follow as he began presumably leading her towards the others he mentioned. She merely gave the blonde woman one more glance before following after the man, dragging her belongings as she went.

“Your arrival is a tad late though no less appreciated, for we need everyone for this sort of feat. We have briefed the others on the details of this quest so allow me to do so now...”

---

She listened carefully to what the Nord - who introduced himself as Arngeir and the woman as Delphine - explained about their coming journey. She was vaguely informed about the mentioned settlement though had not been there herself, what was more tantalizing was the mention of the burial sites and that they had found a stone depicting their locations - something the Dragon Born had at least accomplished before his demise. Saasi did not relinquish her cloak of the swath of fabric from her face, declining Arngeir with a shake of her head when he bid her to make herself welcome among the fort. She did yet know of what she would face with the companions he spoke about, though light in his introductions - probably on purpose she presumed - saying she would witness for herself. And so she would, as the Nord bid himself else where, to prepare their lodging he said and advised she rest soon when able. Saasi merely watched him go and squared her shoulders beneath her wardrobe before sweeping among the meeting still within full swing. There was a slight heaviness, a former tension that was eventually beginning to dissipate as Saasi made slow, light movements towards the council, she was careful and languid in her movements and stoic as ever when the smaller, fragile looking Breton finished her introductions and Saasi found her gaze lingering when she spoke of magic, of course, she pondered for a moment and flashed her eyes else where. Though unassuming in appearance, much like she was, the Redguard knew better than to assume based entirely upon first impressions. Her inclination towards the rouge was much more than what she presented, though her factual potential had yet to be revealed.

Saasi, still donned in her cloak, made a mental document of the others seated and found a rather diverse group in which she was somewhat impressed by, it seemed everyone felt obligated to try and vanquish the dragons and save Nirn, for whatever personal agenda. She reflected on her own reasons and found herself a little less than noble, not that she would say so aloud.

Golden eyes glanced about then, finding something peculiar in the - she assumed Breton by his construct - man with eyes as piercing as the depths of Oblivion, she shuddered, something about him was entirely off that she found unnerving. More so now that she noticed the man standing off in the shadows with hair a shade to rival the snow outside, her fingers curled into fists as her stare swept aside, lingering on the Imperial and Nord sitting aside one another. She took stock of the Khajiit and Argonian, having encountered some before on her times spent in various docks and harbours, though disfavoured publicly here, Saasi found them no different than any Mer or Man and nodded in the slightest flick of her chin. The Redguard then pin-pointed her gaze of honey upon the man standing full in a unique set of armour, elaborated in pallid lines upon ebony plating, he was a Redguard like she was, though perhaps with an edging of Imperial blood through his veins. He looked valiant enough though Saasi could only base such upon first impressions. The rest seemed capable enough, save for those with magical inclination she thought otherwise and waited for a breadth of moment to see if any others would speak up in introduction.

Though not exactly punctual, Saasi knew that it was better to arrive late than not at all, she did not provide an explanation as to why and merely shrugged her cloak back from her shoulders, allowing the mass of fabric to gather down her curvature and barely expose the twin axes upon her backside and reveal most of her armour. Her mass of wiry hair was another matter as she slowly wound the erratic threads into a plait with precision and carefully unwound the fabric from her face, exhaling aloud as she finally breathed in the warmth of the room and the peculiar aroma of the companions gathered about. Smell and sense was vital, Saasi thought and twisted a lock of ebonette away from her marred cheek as she regarded the council once again.

“Saasi,” she spoke, her voice bearing with it a slight husk, her eyes avoiding most as she settled for the book that their scaled friend was writing within with a flourish Saasi found distracting. Though she wasn’t keen on revealing her plethora of abilities, she knew that secrecy would only prevail so far, and with a gesture of brushing her fingers down the fur festooned about her hips - stalling for time as it were - she addressed them once again:

“I’m capable enough, if not more so,” Saasi announced, cryptic as ever. “A warrior, if you must know. A pilgrim, a traveler, whatever title suits you.” She grappled for her axes, arms crossed behind her as if finding comfort within the weapons before sweeping her eyes across them once again, taking final note. If they inquired more after her strengths, then she might be inclined to answer, otherwise she felt as if her initial greeting was enough to satisfy their palates of knowledge - sure enough her appearance would vouch enough, would it not? Though introductions were vital, first impressions more so, Saasi couldn't find herself finding comfort among the mass of them and found it a tad unsettling with that peculiar sense of something about a couple of those in the meeting. However, she bit the inside of her cheek, opting for silence again as she merely seated herself with an easy grace, movements purposely done down as she leaned back against stone and crossed her arms across her bodice and looked her leg over her knee, eyes drawn to the curious scrawling of the Argonian in their midst.

Things had calmed considerably in the room now, Haserous appeared that he had no more boasts to shout and everyone in the room was, one by one, detailing their skills and what they were proficient in.
Valerion took another sip from his goblet and listened intently, making sure to make note of what each person had skills in, the first to speak was Nikloaus and Leonadius soon followed after, they both appeared to be close, or knew each other prior to this meeting.
Upon hearing the word inventor Valerion couldn't help but smile, over the years he had met many of those types, they were always ecstatic, as if the nine had but an infinite amount of energy in their body upon creation.
Valerion wasn't overly fond of those type of people,but they were a fearsome force in their own way, a welcome addition in Valerions mind.
The next to speak was the Khajiit, Rawlith' Dar his name was and a Khajiit with a large amount of sense too, something Valerion thought to be rare amongst their race as the ones he had seen were mostly bandits or skooma addicts. And then there was M'aiq, a filthy liar obsessed with calipers. So Rawlith Dar was the first Khajiit Valerion had met that he could call, somewhat respectable.
But what he ahd to say was very interesting, especially his plans to depart for the Whiterun hold area afterwards, as he had stumbled across a burial site over there.
Valerion had plans to go a ancient place called Labyirinthian after dealing with some dragons, so maybe it would be more prudent to stop off their with the Khajiit and then head towards the burial site?
Something he would have to broach with the Cathay later on.
Then the little girl, who was called Roze, and Dreet-Na spoke, both confirming Valerions suspicions on who and what they were; except Dreet-Na who had already detailed he was a mage also said how little he had in any combat magics, even destruction, although knowledge is said to be power, it cant penetrate a dragons scales.
Valerion had a few spell tomes left over from various expeditions, he thought in his mind- he would share some of them to make the scaly one of some use from the out-set.
Valerion placed his goblet down on the stone table and satreted shifting through his travel bag that was slung around his back.
Upon opening it it was filled with various items: some empty soul gems, a few primers on enchanting and poison making, a detailed and well used map on Skyrim which had markers littered all over it, and finally the very thing he was looking for, 3 books, 2 adorned with thew symbols of destruction on them and another showing the symbol of conjuration.

Valerion had acquired them from a travelling conjurer, he was quite powerful but never the less his magic failed to accomplish much on Valerion and he had killed him rather nastily, now that he recalled it.
Hamstringing him before tearing his throat out with his bare hands, and finally absorbing his soul before the life went out in his eyes. Smiling to himself, Valerion placed the 3 books on the table in front of him. One was a spell for Lightning bolt, a mid level spell, weak fireball with was a low level spell and finally summon Clanifear, a rather rare and complex summoning spell. These type of books became exceedingly rare after the Oblivion crisis, which was quite odd.

Before Valerion could call the Argonians name, he heard speaking in the main hall. It appeared that another member had arrived.
The new member soon appeared through the door just as Roze had finished speaking, and she quickly went in an introduced herself before sitting down promptly.
She hadn't really relinquished much about herself or her skills which in turn gave Valerion more information about her than she let on, she was evidently the type that didn't trust others easily, or rather took some time to do so and as well as that she was the type that let her actions speak for herself.
At least that was his interpretation of her lack of detail. For all he knew she could be a bit 'simple'.

Valerion looked over towards Dreet-Na who was staring at the new member, quill in hand and a disappointed look on his scaled face. Obviously displeased about the lacking amount he could document about her.
"Dreet-na." Valerion said breaking the silence of the room.
Valerion tapped the books and said "These are for you. May they serve you well."
Valerion placed them as close as he could to the Argonian without getting up and then turned his attention to he newcomer, who was named Saasi, a redguard by the looks of her.
She was adorned in a hardened and scarred leather armour, studded in various points and obviously meant for enough protection to prevent a swift killing blow, and not enough to weigh her down in a fight, a clever fighter Valerion mused, his own armour was fairly light irregardless of its Ebony weave, Valerion had learnt how to mould and work it into a composite with another metal, moonstone in this case, which still kept the sturdy, blade turning affects of Ebony plate but kept it light and maneuverable.
Unfortunately it couldn't be enchanted, he spent hours fruitlessly trying to embude various magics into it; all failed every method he could possibly think of didn't work.
Valerion could never fathom why, and still couldn't but the armour was good within itself, he liked its strength and he didn't have the ability to wear heavy armour, so it worked out well for him in the long run.

"Greetings Saasi, its a pleasure meeting you." Valerion was going to inquest on her lacking introduction but he couldn't be bothered with speaking at the minute, he was growing weary and he'd probably retire for some much needed rest shortly.

The fire continued to crackle in the hearth and snow continued to fall unseen beyond the walls of High Hrothgar as the meeting continued. The female Breton, Rozalia, spoke next as she introduced herself and began to list through her qualities. She confirmed that she was indeed a stealthy character, able to move through the shadows unseen. This doubled with her apparent skills with her blades and bow meant that she would be able to move unseen and strike with surprise, something Dreet-Na was sure the group would end up thankful for if they were hoping to dice with the numerous Dovah and any other foes that they might stumble upon during their journey. She mentioned that she also had a ‘foothold’ in regards to magic, referring to the natural affinity her bloodline afforded her – something Dreet-Na had always been slightly jealous of when it came to the mastery of the arcane. Rozalia finished with a roguish grin as she added that she was able to talk her way out of anything, again something Dreet-Na was sure that they would end up needing before their quest was done, his gaze lingering upon her as he wondered just how convincing she could really be.

It was at that point that he became aware that another individual had arrived, the hushed voices of the greybeards heard as they ushered them into the meeting room. A Redguard woman strode into the room, her movements seemed deliberate yet cautious as she surveyed the group as they had each done. Dreet-Na could not help but notice that she seemed to tense slightly as her gaze passed over Valerion and the snow-haired man, however she gave little indication of whatever she was thinking from her stoic expression. As she removed her snow-caked outer clothing she seemed to find a brief moment of enjoyment from the warmth of the room, though again her expression betrayed little.

“Saasi” she spoke, a single word which lingered in the air – obviously her name and introduction. Dreet-Na wasted little time in scrawling it down beside the names of his other companions. The rest of her introduction was short, almost cryptic and her shifting gaze showed that she may be feeling some element of unease as she stood as the centre of attention amongst the companions. He scrawled down her words beside her name as she slowly took a seat amongst them, clearly done with her introduction and not wanting them to linger further upon her, or at least so he assumed. He frowned slightly as he gazed down at the page, slightly unsettled by the lack of information he had been able to record thus far, however he hoped that such things would come later in their mission.

“Dreet-Na”

Hearing his name, the lizard snapped his attention upwards and away from his scrawlings as Valerion watched him with his hand upon a trio of books that were now on the table before him. Tapping the cover of the topmost book he explained “These are for you. May they serve you well.”.

Dreet-Na’s eyes lit up as he gazed at the tomes, recognising the symbols of the schools of destruction and conjuration he eagerly slid the books towards himself. They were rare and old, that much he could tell, and after a quick examination he identified the spells these tomes would teach. Once Valerion had expressed his pleasure at meeting this newcomer, Dreet-Na nodded his thanks towards him – none of the spells being within his current skillset, and he eagerly awaited reading through and learning their secrets, in particular the summon Clannfear.

Hesitating for a moment Dreet-Na wondered if this gift was out of convenience, or rather that Valerion was concerned regarding his abilities within combat. Dismissing the thought he decided it did not matter, after all he was more than confident with his own mage abilities. The others would soon see the boons of his restoring, fortifying and shield skills, as well as the danger of his absorbing, paralyzing and reflecting skills, amongst many other abilities he had picked up over his many years.

Looking once more around the group he could see that several of them were looking tired, each of them likely somewhat exhausted by not only the ascent but also the late hour at which they were convening. Some of the group had still not introduced themselves, but at this late stage it seemed it may be that they would not do so either out of reluctance to join and commit to the group, or perhaps if not just out of lack of a desire to grace them with their words. He assumed that they would either do so at some stage, tonight or if not in the morning before they set off, or that they would be gone in the morning having decided not to join with Dovahfeyn. Clearing his throat Dreet-Na turned to face Saasi and said “Yes, greetings Saasi. I hope your journey here was not unpleasant. I am Dreet-Na, scholar and mage” he then gestured towards Rozalia before introducing her and adding that she was a rogue and slight jack-of-all-trades it seemed and continuing around the room in a similar fashion, repeating the names of those who had introduced themselves and summarising what they had said about themselves as simply as possible. Finally he gestured towards Valerion and said “He is Valerion…” he hesitated for a moment before continuing “he is… very old and complicated, from what he has told us.” Once he had finished Dreet-Na glanced at the others who remained in the shadows or towards the back of the room, deciding that their introductions would be their own if they so chose.

Torn between what to do for the moment, Dreet-Na reached over to one of the several plates of salted fish and slid it towards himself. He decided that he would eat and study the tomes for now, most likely being able to learn the two destruction spells with relative ease, however the conjuration spell would take him much more time considering his relative lack of experience in that school. Fortunately for him it would still be possible considering he was an expert with mysticism, a school that was now mostly included within conjuration due to their many similarities. When the others decided to go to whatever chambers they were assigned he would have the peace he needed, and could then sleep when he so chose – though he may regret the lack of sleep the following day, he was for now to enthralled with the new tomes he had been given to consider sleeping.

Dura said nothing as introductions were made. When it came around to her, she shifted her slouching stance a little and stood up, her blank expression hidden behind her mask. The bones around her belt clinked about somewhat with the shift, but were still again soon after. she swept her gaze across the crowd, gauging looks, stances, races, before quietly clearing her throat and speaking clearly enough for the room to hear.

"Dura gra-Shurk. Orc. Spellsword. Shoot, chop, burn or freeze, I can do it."

With that, she swep her gaze across the room again and returned to her wall-slouch.

In the early hours of the morning Qa’Skil was laid sprawled across the bed he had purchased for the night, he shifted around every few minutes and occasionally gave off a growl or mumbled comment as if speaking with some invisible presence. Sleep had thus far evaded him and his heart had been racing the entire time as he rolled back and forth again and again. Eventually his eyelid began to feel heavy and he drifted into a light uneasy sleep which soon filled his mind with unpleasant images and thoughts.

Qa’Skil was wandering through the Tenmar forest, he was young and healthy again, his coat shimmering and golden and both eyes gazed around as he walked between the sugarcane groves dressed in his finery. Suddenly he came across another Khajiit who was hidden amongst the groves, the feline emerging from a thick patch suddenly before standing and blocking his path with a glass dagger clutched in his hand.

Qa’Skil recognised himself, mangy and one-eyed with the all too familiar look of desperation plastered over his face as he brandished the blade forwards and demanded his coin-purse. Young Qa’skil barred his fangs and took a step backwards as he placed a hand protectively over his money before he shouted “It’s me you fool! You can’t seriously be robbing yourself can you?”

Even his voice was strong and firm compared to the quiet and sinister voice that responded, the older Qa’Skil spitting on the ground before he hissed “S'rendarr has cursed this one” and he began to lunge forwards aggressively stabbing and slashing with the glass dagger.

Qa’Skil quickly reached for his own glass dagger, but it was missing from its place in his waist and he could do little but fall backwards under the onslaught as he tried to block the blade with his hands and arms. The blade cut deep into his hands as he grabbed at it, his crimson life-force spilling freely as he began to grapple with the dream version of himself. Managing to grab the blade and hold it for a moment as they both wrestled to the floor the dream Qa’Skil fought viciously and frantically, kicking, elbowing and gouging at him as the blade was knocked free and clattered to the ground beside where they grappled. Now fighting with little more than tooth and claw the dream Qa’Skil managed to gain the upper hand for a moment before he lashed out and raked his claws down his face causing unfathomable pain to shoot through his face as Qa’Skil clutched at his now profusely bleeding eye, realising that he had just blinded himself.

The dream Qa’Skil managed to scramble over to the knife before he twisted and leapt back upon his wounded victim. Struggling desperately to stop him Qa’Skil could do little more than scream and beg for him to stop as the dream Qa’Skil tried to plunge the blade into him once more, barley missing as they once more frantically began to struggle, hands locked as the blade hovered just above Qa’Skil’s chest before slowly beginning to inch its way forwards.

After what felt like an eternity the tip of the blade found its target, sinking into his flesh as a sickening and horrifying feeling gripped at him, pain blossoming throughout his body as his strength faded and the dream Qa’Skil grinned fiendishly as he pushed the dagger in deeper and deeper until it was buried to the hilt. Feeling weaker than a kitten Qa’Skil gazed into his own savage eye as the dream Qa’Skil watched the life drain away from his face.

As his vision faded in the dream Qa’Skil awoke in reality, his heart still pounding and covered in sweat. He was very unsettled and felt at his chest where the dagger had been only moments ago, the feelings had been so real and so unnerving that he couldn’t help but check. Satisfied that it had only been a dream and nothing more he swung his legs over and sat on the edge of the bed before he grabbed the almost empty bottle of wine from his nightstand and drained the remaining liquid with a few rapid gulps.

“Sheggorath’s tits that was unpleasant…” he mumbled to himself as he rubbed his left eye. He also took a moment to feel around the scars of his right eye, his fingers running over the lines that marred his face before he suddenly stood before stalking across the room to where his bag was sat. Grabbing the tatty satchel he moved back towards the bed before he unclasped it and turned it upside down, spilling the contents onto his bed. “Let there be something…” he begged, hoping desperately that there would be some vial he had overlooked or at the very least a flask of some strong liquor that would knock him out for the remainder of the night. The amount of junk he had collected was quite impressive, however he was not in the mood to sift through it at the moment and began to quickly search through the items for what he was looking for.

Qa’Skil froze as he picked up the package of Moon-sugar, simply gazing in disbelief as he held it in his hand. A moment later his face erupted into a huge grin and he began to laugh to himself, still not believing he had forgotten about the substance for so long. Tearing open a small corner of the package he quickly poured a small amount directly into his mouth before he leaded backwards and chewed at it, savouring both the sweet taste and the feeling of relief that began to flood his body. It wasn’t skooma, but it would definitely do for now. After a few minutes he sat forwards again before deciding that it was time for him once more to try his hand at refining the substance himself, and so began to think about what he would need to scavenge together and where he would do it. .After a short amount of time his grin spread even wider as he realised he knew just the place. Carefully sealing the package once more he placed it into his bag before he dumped the rest of his possessions back as well, he then began to quickly dress himself in his overcoat and pull his shoes back on as he scrambled around the room to prepare.

Peering through his doorway into the inn’s main room to ensure it was deserted before he moved out, his footsteps falling silently as he easily glided across the wooden floor without making a noise Qa’Skil paused only once behind the bar to grab yet another bottle of the alto wine, moving the bottle behind it forwards so it’s absence would not be detected before he snuck out into the cold crisp air of the very early morning – intent on turning Roggi’s basement into a make-shift skooma den for the day.

The Greybeards gave their proclamations and their objective, others entered, arguments ensued, and something of an embarrassing show of one-up-manship ensued. Vincent found himself strongly wishing to no longer be in the presence of such pathetic individuals. The goal was to leave at dawn, which was obviously problematic for Vincent, and as such he had no time to waste if he wanted to reach Kynesgrove before dawn. Without a word, he pushed through the throng of individuals that had gathered at the entrance of the chamber, and back out into the frigid night outside the temple. The whipping winds blew strongly on his hair and coat, but Vincent hardly noticed.

Kynesgrove was not walking distance, but he could manage. With a surge of the dark power of night, Vincent's body split apart and took on the form of a large swarm of bats. The swarm then struck out, still in a tight cohesion, out over the mountain and down its length, headed north-east. In this form, he could easily make it to the village before sunrise, and then find a cool, dark place to wait out the day and recover his power.

Rozalia's eyes followed Vincent as he left the room, hearing the sharp echo of the doors as they slammed shut behind him. She would have been nervous, had she not settled in with the remainder of the group so much - she felt she could trust at least some of them.
Figuring that most of the group had finished with introductions - clearly some didn't want to speak - she stood up with a stretch, gathering her things in a still soggy bundle in her arms. Hopefully the armour would be dry by morning.
Taking one last survey at her new fellows, she silently hoped that she wouldn't be seen as some sort of burden in their journey to end Alduin. Roze knew she wasn't the strongest, or the most skilled, but she just knew in her heart that she could help.
Not that she'd allow anyone to tell her otherwise, that is.
"I'll see you guys in the morning then." She said as she walked towards the entrance of the room, hoping she could find a bed near one of the flickering braziers. "Maybe we should vote for a team leader or something over breakfast? Gotta have someone in the group giving orders." She added with a smile, then left the others with that thought. She was unsure who she'd be voting for - it seemed most people had plenty of skills of leadership. Haserus obviously had plenty of experience - but she doubted many would want to follow him, let alone vote for him. Rawlith and Dreet-na seemed like likely candidates for the job, although she wondered if either would take it. Niko appeared to be fairly level-headed and diplomatic; maybe she'd vote for him...

Leo ignored most of the conversation that had followed his introduction as fatigue began to creep up on him. He and Niko had been travelling pretty much non-stop from Markarth, so it was fair to say he was looking forward to a proper nights sleep. He attention was grabbed, however, as the young breton girl left the room, and he sprang to his feet as she passed through the doorway.
"I think I'll follow suit. I imagine our Blade friend will have us up at around dawn for the journey, so we'll need all the sleep we can get." He said, then paused, thinking on the mention of a leader. He only had to glance at his cousin to make his mind up. Rozalia had brought up a good point - they would need a true leader; Arngeir and Delphine wouldn't be good enough. It needed to be one of the group.

The Next Morning

The group were all awakened - if asleep, for some had chosen to stand watch over the night, still not trusting their companions - some time before dawn by the Greybeards. A hasty breakfast and supplies were given out, and soon the company was trekking back out into the frosty wilderness, happy to begin their journey on a fairly clear day; the blizzard had blown itself out last night, leaving behind plenty of snow and a nip in the air, that was only made worse by the height they were at. Delphine heading the group, they descended the mountain in silence, some unsure of speaking at the risk of dredging up the tension of last night, and some too tired to even both making an effort for the moment.
Taking about 3 or 4 hours, they made it to the village in good time, and the sun had finally risen, casting a golden glow across the swathe of white that lay upon the land around them.
"Alright. It's going to take about 2 weeks to get to Kynesgrove, give or take a few days." Delphine called to the group as they reached the edges of Ivarstead. "After that, I'll be leaving you, so I suggest you vote on a leader between yourselves as we walk."

Dreet-Na walked in silence at the back of the group, his sour mood had returned and he resisted the urge to grumble about the many aches and pains he had, how his old age was slowly starting to catch up with him – but he knew it was best to keep such things to himself, especially with the group. He had been carefully considering who to elect leader of their little group, though the decision was not an easy one. He wanted someone who would be smart and strong enough, though he also knew it would be important to pick someone with the necessary skills to be a leader.

He had considered Valerion, before deciding that the darkness within him would likely make such a choice inappropriate, besides he was certain that none of the others would vote for such a unnatural creature – and knew to waste his vote as well as to risk alienating himself would not be a wise choice. He had considered Haserous, and guessed that with his reputation he may be a favourite with some of the others to be voted in, but again decided against it. The man focused on the martial side of things far too heavily, and such a choice would likely not work out in his own favour in the long run – being a scholar and a mage, something Haserous would underestimate . Many of the others had been too quiet and had not opened up enough for him to make a decision about, and so he immediately discounted those. He considered briefly Rozalia, however with her relative youth and disposition towards taking things that were not hers, though he had no issues with her or that, he decided she would also be unsuitable for this reason.

He was considering Nikolaus, after all he had been level headed and his companion had even spoken of his diplomatic nature. Such a trait would be good for a leader, especially with a group as diverse as theirs. He discounted Leonidus after his comment regarding mischief through words – such an individual would be of no use as a leader to them.

Finally he considered the Khajiit, Rawlith-Dar. He may be appropriate, but there was no way that he would cast his vote for him. He considered briefly how he would react if the Khajiit was voted leader, and watched the feline as they walked. Before last night he would have rejected the idea outright, but he was slightly more open to it – however old habits die hard, and he decided that he would prefer not to be under him. However if it did happen, he would keep his objections to himself and see if once more this Khajiit would be able to sway his opinion further.

Clearing his throat as he often did before speaking Dreet-Na announced to the group “I have considered the situation, for now I believe that I shall place my vote in Nikolaus.”

He let his words sit for a moment to see how they would react, especially Nikolaus himself before he added “Though as I am sure you all would agree, such a decision should not be made permanent until whomever we all choose has either proven, or disproven themselves suitable for the position.”

He continued to walk as he wondered who the others would vote for, the thought that some may choose him not even entering his mind as he did.

Fostfall, 15th, 4E 201
Keeper Kaset wanted to sow the rest of Skairim that the Vigils of Stendar had not abandon or fogotten them and so Gideon and me have bin given the honour to be the chosen repesentatives for the Vigilants. But it seems that we ae not the only ones who will be answeing the call. In the past moons we witness quite a number of people, far mor than we anticipated to actually arrive. Gideon and me hav been waiting in the Vilemir Inn, watching for any signs of Daedric influens. Kuite dull really.

“I never did understood why you would even bother to write in that little book of yours,” said Gideon before he took another long chug of his ale. The loud chattering and laughters of the other patrons and the ever busy innkeeper suggested that business has been good for the past few days. As he guzzled his ale to the last drop, Gideon slammed his tankard hard on the table and yelled out a hearty “More!” that would make any true Nordsman proud. Wiping the foam off his lips, Gideon took a deep breath and the aromas of spiced meats and sweet drinks filled his lungs. “This was the life”, he thought to himself for all the Vigilants had in the Hall was bread, salted meat and some brand of wine he never heard of. "I mean all I ever did when I went to school was write and write and write," he continued. "It's dreadfully boring!"

Not even bothering to look at her partner, Falrielle in return said, “Not everyone went to school when they were a child, Gideon” in which she simply continued to practice her penmanship. “In fact” she continued, “The first time I even learned to read was when I joined the Vigilants”. Taking a quick sip of wine she rested her quill on the table before looking at Gideon who had his mouth stuffed with bread in the eye and in a tone of which an elder sibling would use to mock their younger, “To be fair for you” she said, “I learned to read about the same time as you did” she continued. “Only I didn’t wet my bed.”

“By Mara!” cursed Gideon as he rolled his eyes in which Falrielle gave a smug smirk in return. Even after joining the Vigilants over 10 years ago his mentor still hasn’t changed one bit. He was rather sure than in her eyes, he is still that same inexperienced initiate who would probably either be killed, maimed or soiled himself in his first engagement with a Daedra but here he is. These elves are all the same with their long lifeline and sense of superiority he thought to himself. “I mean really Fallie?” he said. ”I mean after all those times I saved your sorry existence yo-“

“Trying to pull that one on me again Gideon?” Falrielle interrupted as she took another sip of her wine. “Don’t forget that it was I who trained you to not die,” she continued raising her eyebrow in victory as Gideon simply turned away, refusing to acknowledge her presence like a spoiled brat throwing a temper tantrum. But this was precisely why she enjoyed his company even though she would never admit it to his face; her other Vigilant-siblings were just too uptight about their duties. It is not as if that neither she nor Gideon was any less loyal to the cause but compassion and friendship complements mercy or so she thought.

Sitting in the darker corner of the inn, both Vigilants faced towards the other patrons, watching them like a predator readying to pounce at any given moment. While Gideon would honestly prefer to join the crude choir of drunken Nords in the centre, Falrielle’s eyes just couldn’t take it as her eyes are just too sensitive to tolerate that much light and her reliance on her hearing and smell might even nauseate her. Still, not willing to let his mentor get the final word Gideon turned towards his mentor who is now enjoying her breakfast and cleared his throat as he gathered his thoughts. “So Fallie,” he said which the elf simply ignored him and continued slurping her meal. Her indifference worried his pride as his mind began racing to think of anything to annoy her. “Why are you still keeping your hood up?” he kept talking. “The sun is barely shining today unless you don’t want anyone to mistake you for a Falm-,“ he continued before Gideon realised his mistake.

Before he could even finish that sentence, Falrielle shot a glare at him that would even send chills down the spine of Molag Bal himself. For a moment, Gideon thought that his very soul is being torn apart and that her baleful stare would of have left nothing but a smoking pair of boots in his seat. For some reason, Falrielle’s pale blue eyes just made her look all the more horrifying than he remembered.

He cleverly turned his attention away, away from the stare that would eviscerate his entrails and quietly sipped his ale in which the elf just returned to eating her breakfast.
_________________________________

As the pair left the Inn, Falrielle is greeted with the familiar and comforting scent and sounds of the outdoors and she loved every bit of it. From the chirps of songbirds in the distance to the trickle of water from the nearby stream, from the aroma of flowers to the stench of rotting leaves, she loved it all. While she couldn’t see as well as she wished, the landscape of orange and red brought back more than a few happy memories before she kept her head down to avoid the light. However her sense of nostalgia is cut short when a small party of adventurers descended from the mountain and her nose smelled trouble. Keeping their heads down to avoid drawing attention to them, the pair walked past the party, eavesdropping for any bit of information as they could. Stopping at the nearby lumber mill, Falrielle turned towards Gideon and asked “What do you see?”

Taking quick glances to avoid suspicion, Gideon identified a blonde woman with the look of a Breton clad in leather that hugged all the right places, a few Khajiit oddballs, non-descript adventurers and the last two which caught his attention; a man clad in full body armour who stood quietly behind the group and what seems to be an Orc dressed in a garb he never once seen worn by the common Orc. Gideon knew trouble when he saw it; after all he was trained to do so. In the Order, the Vigilants are taught that quick and accurate identification of the corruption of the Daedra meant the difference between life and death. As he relayed what he saw, Falrielle continued to keep her head down, her hand resting at her chin, periodically nodding her head in response.

They both knew that this is no ordinary party and that they have to tread lightly lest their intentions are discovered. Luckily for them, those bearing the taint of the Daedra carry their noses up high over the Vigilants and if they stay their hand for longer than a few moments, the tainted would likely believe that these Vigilants are far too incompetent to see through their lies. Her train of thought ended as the party walked past them without noticing the pair. Looking towards her partner, he knew exactly what she was going to do.

The hunt is on.

They crested the small bridge that sat at the foot of the mountain and they passed through Ivarstead slowly. The whole group drawing a few eyes as they were led through the streets and to the edge of the simple village. Words lifted over the soft breeze as Delphine spoke, and then the Saxhleel spoke up to cast his vote several minutes later. Rawlith had been thinking himself of who to vote for on this journey. He knew it would need to a true leader and one who either already presented themselves as a leader or someone who would take up the mantle naturally after being put into the position. It would need to be someone capable, strong, intelligent, but not inwardly focused. It would need to be someone who could use the group to it's potential, without outright using the group as tools.

He turned as they stopped, his position among the group off-set to the right side and slightly forward, and looked over the group. He pondered each person, their proclaimed skills, and that of what he saw of a Dragon. Rawlith thought of what they might find in Kynesgrove, a Dragon perhaps, Thalmor maybe, Stormcloaks possibly, Necromancers all too imaginable, a Daedra for daydreams... Aetherius only truly knew.. but Rawlith knew one thing and that one thing was beasts. Rawlith was a hunter, tried and true and his years of expertise gave him the knowledge of physique and form over most he saw among the group. He began to recall the memories of the cavern and the Dragon as to recall the beast more so then anything.



Rawlith's mind seemed to speak unlike himself, as it deliberated on with it's knowledge of structure and beasts before he switched his thinking to the present matter of deliberation. He needed to decide whether to vote or not, and who to vote for in the end. He honestly thought of himself for a moment, only based on the fact he had knowledge as a hunter and what he considered a grand memory. He had never truly been in a position of leadership, his tribe had always had a family lineage who leaded them, and Rawlith was more or less one of the fighters for the the tribe. He was only associated with the Hunters, the Protectors, and the Sage of his tribe, never the Head of the Clan. His thoughts filled with those around him, their skills, their workings, their personalities, their possibility at being a good, or bad, leader.

Rawlith finally broke off his mind to speak aloud, while almost gesturing the group to pay heed to the Saxhleel and his decision. It was time to decide, and time to truly put it all on the table.

"This one sees where you decision comes from, Saxhleel. This one however, while agreeing with it.This one is also still adamant that we should wait until after Kynesgrove, but if he needs to vote now then he shall do so. This one believes Kynesgrove will be a key part in determining who is leader, and who is not, it will also show who can survive. This one has complete faith in us as a group, it may not be through the knowledge of each of you, but rather the knowledge of our goal and determination, but it still brings reason to the obvious reality that some of us may die.. This one acknowledges himself among those who can, and will, die one day. Nevertheless, this one wishes to vouch for Nikolaus." He stated while crossing his arms over his chest to cause his armored arms to connect with his breastplate, as well as cause his trench-coat to sway lightly.

Valerion didn't wait very long before he decided enough was enough.
He picked himself up from his chair, downed the rest of his wine and said goodnight to the room, and to those bothered enough to listen to it.
With his helmet in his hand he left the room and went to the other side of the castle, and into a room that had several bed, each with straw mattresses and fur skin covers.
A common bed, but no doubt this far up in the mountain a welcome relief to the harsh and unforgiving cold, and equally cold hard stone that surrounded them.
Valerion laid himself on the nearest bed and closed his eyes, dropping into a nondescript, uneventful slumber.
He had managed about 3 or 4 hours of sleep, which was better than normal. Another downside of not being completely alive was that sleep didn't bring much respite, and sometimes he was lucky to get any at all.
The fight with the troll must have been more taxing than he originally thought. Sitting up from the bed Valerion peered out side the window; if you could call it that. It was more like an arrowslit. It was still dark, the snow was falling lightly and a small, bitter, breeze was whistling through the castle. It was strange but Valerion began to sense a small feeling of nostalgia from his days in the Jerall mountains. The place where he had killed hundreds, maybe numbering in the thousands of travelers, mercenaries, merchants and even the odd war band from the days of the Aldemiri Dominions invasion.

---

4th era, Year 78, Last Seed, 10th Mondas
Sancre Tor, The Jerall Mountains, Cyrodil
Valerion let out a long, mournful sigh. It had been another day, and another unsuccessful attempt to try and make animated husks intelligent. Or at least to the point were they would be a fearsome warrior alongside you in a fight, the normal reanimated husks were useless. Practically fodder, and not worth the magika spent on them.
The last caravan that came through here had came from a mine located further along the road. A few guards, and a couple of miners hoping to get to Bruma, to their warm hearths and their cold ale. But they never made it. Another one that mysteriously vanished in a storm.
Well that's what the Black Horse courier would likely say about it. Nobody had yet discovered, or survived to tell the tale of Valerion, who was the one causing them all to vanish. Or, more accurately, taking them all to Sancre Tor.
He had got used to horse meat as a food by now, it was generally either fatty or tough and stringy. Since food caravans were rare coming through here.
But other than that Valerion had pulled a lot of use from the last one. It had an abundance of gold and iron ore, and a bit of silver and corundum. Which Valerion was making use of in his homemade forge. He just needed Moonstone to finish off a very unique and special suit of armour he was making.
He had also gained 7 souls and 7 corpses to use in his experiments.
Looking up from the desecrated corpse laid out on a stone slab before him; Valerion took in the main hall that he had used as his main Laboratory, it was a large spacious room with several old, imperial styled supporting columns keeping up the tonnes of earth above his head, and the 2 other main floors as well as the old castle itself. For something so old, they were still doing their job. There were several slabs of concrete that Valerion was unsure as to their original purpose, but he was using them to hold the corpses whilst he done what needed to be done. All of them were now stained heavily with blood, and had turned from a stony grey to a deep onyx. The light from the several braziers and torches located around the room actual made the place more ominous and spine-chilling than before.
Valerion wiped his hands on his apron and quickly washed them in washbasin he had near the exit towards, what used to be the barracks; now what was his study.

Taking the apron off he placed it on a unused torch sconce to let the the blood dry out. Then he began walking down the empty halls towards the study.
Even though Sancre Tor was only used by Valerion, and the few daedric guards he had summoned on the first floor, the place looked as if it was always used. There wasn't a single speck of dust or a single cobweb in the entire fortress. Even debris from some of the old crumbling parts of the castle seemingly disappeared after a while.
Valerion liked this a lot though, he would have hated this place if it was a ruin. It didn't take him long to reach the two heavy oak doors that separated him from his most frequented part of the fortress.
But, for the first time in 70 years. Something was wrong...
The left door was slightly ajar. Generally this would be disregarded. But Valerion knew better than that. The chilling thought was that his weapons and armour were in this room, apart from magic Valerion was defenseless. His 'work' clothes, as he liked to call them were little more than leather and silk. Offering no defense, even to a sharpened spoon.
Valerion collected energy in his right palm, and pushed open the left door with his left hand. Ready to destroy whatever lay within side.
What he saw, he could never have prepared for or imagined in the entirety of his life.
He stood there, frozen with disbelief. Only the unknown person speaking broke him from this state.
The voice was odd, almost ethereal. Deep and twisted, and unfitting of the figure that was sitting in the solid mahogany chair that Valerion spent most of his time in.
"There's no need for you to be alarmed. Valerion."
"I come with an offer. And one that I don't think you could refuse."
A small smile curled on the lips of the; seemingly small man. He had horns perturbing from his head and a face that looked as if it would be better suited on a mask.
"My name is Clavicus Vile." He said with great pride. "And YOU, are exactly the type of person that I've been looking for."
"Come on in and close the door. We have much to discuss."
Valerion hated the fact that he was invited into his own study. But he wasn't about to argue with a god. So he stopped his magic flowing into his right palm and eased the door shut, the noise resonating off the empty halls of Sancre Tor...

---

Valerion had been thinking about that day for a while now, it was important, and instrumental to many things in his life but dawn was showing on the horizon and it was time to get ready to descend the mountain again.
It took him and the others about a few hours to get ready, resupply and reach the bottom of the mountain. The journey down was much easier than the one up, as the weather had improved greatly, and only the odd light snowfall that occurred every now and then deviated from the clear skies that hung above the party.
Once they passed the bridge Delphine broached the subject of who should lead them.
Valerion smiled from underneath his helmet. He had a feeling it wouldn't be him, he was a peerless warrior and had more than enough experience behind him in terms of strategy and tactics. But he thought that the rest of them would appreciate someone who was alive to lead them.
He began to think through who would be the best, if not him. Nikalous was certainly a respectable choice. But he thought him to attached towards the other one. The eccentric inventor, it was unwise to bring someone you like on this quest, as an subliminal bias would inevitably arise from his decisions.
The girl was likely inexperienced for such a role, and many others that were in the party Valerion deemed insufficient or the role of leader.
However the thought the Argonian; Dreet-Na, seemed a likely candidate.

Hearing the others pipe up about Nikalous, and the Khajiits, accurate point of who would be best after dealing with a dragon. Valerion spoke.
"I agree with the Khajiit. This should really be best left till after our first engagement of a dragon. Why appoint someone a leader who is then proceeded to be killed but moments after?
But I digress. I vote for Dreet-Na. He seems the most logical choice out of all of us."

Rozalia trudged along with the rest of the group, puling her hood further over her face in an attempt to keep out the cold. The Greybeards had been kind enough to give her a heavy travelling cloak for the cold, but it was stuffed into her knapsack at the moment. It wasn't unbearably cold yet, so she'd wait till then to add more warmth.
Listening in on the others, she glanced around once more. She would probably vote for Nikolaus... but would that be the wisest decision? Perhaps she should be voting for whoever she decided to travel with, once the group split up. Presuming that Nikolaus and his cousin would be going together, she looked over the remainder of the group. Valerion seemed to be looking to the Argonian for companionship; he'd already donated books to him, and voted for leadership. Now with those two, she would feel pretty safe with. Without a doubt they were warriors, and appeared to have no interest in more.. unsavory activities, as male adventurers often did when around females. But sh would have to wait and see - she assumed that right now, no-one ion the group would be particularly happy about her joining them. It was obvious that she wasn't the strongest, so her decision on this - and on voting for leadership - would have to wait until after Kynesgrove. She couldn't deny that was nervous about this, but she couldn't be showing it, not around these seasoned warriors.

Nikolaus nodded his head in gratitude towards Dreet-Na and Rawlith,acknowledging their votes for him. "I also agree - perhaps this should wait until after we've dealt with this dragon. It wouldn't be any good if our leader couldn't handle battle tactics now, would it?" He added with an easy-going smile at the group.
As they continued on their way, he pondered over who he would vote for. Of the three females in the group, none of them seemed appropriate as candidates. Roze was far too young, Saasi hadn't said anything other than her abrupt introduction the previous night, and he doubted he'd even heard the Orc speak. Of the remainder, there were far more candidates, the three most likely being Rawlith, Dreet-Na, and Valerion (And himself, he added as an afterthought, but he wouldn't be voting for himself.). Valerion seemed a bit too cold and... arrogant, in a word, to be a decent leader of people. That left the Khajiit and the Argonian - in which that decision would be left till after the battle with this Kynesgrove dragon.

---

The group journeyed for countless hours, stopping only once at noon for a brief respite by the river, and they continued on their way. Camping just beyond Shroud Hearth Barrow late that night, they continued on in the morning.
A week passed, and the group were settling down for camp about a half-mile away from Darkwater Crossing, their various tents and bedrolls close to the warm pools of the rocky volcanic tundra situated in Eastmarch.

As time with the group wore on Dreet-Na became somewhat more comfortable around the majority of them, however realistically it seemed most were still keeping to themselves and concentrating on the journey at hand. He continued to write general observations and relevant information within the book he was keeping, updating it each night as they made camp. Aside from that he generally kept to himself, though did ask any question that came to his mind where appropriate. He found himself occasionally watching Valerion, his mind wandering about the implications of what he was – his mind searching to recall much of what he had read and learnt throughout his many years.

A week had passed and the group were once again making camp, this time about a half-mile away from Darkwater Crossing. Dreet-Na stood atop a slightly elevated rocky outcropping and gazed about them, taking note that several of their companions had since left the group, leaving fewer in number. He trudged towards the others, picking up any dry discarded pieces of wood or other relevant kindling that he passed before he knelt in the centre of their tents and started to make a fire. He was fed up of the chill in the air and the dampness, and even though he had been subtly casting resistance spells as they went he wanted to feel the genuine heat of a warm fire.

As he finished and lit the fire he glanced up towards Valerion, suddenly remembering that he wanted to thank him again for the tomes he had provided. He had now memorised the spells within and was more prepared for whatever would come their way.

“Many thanks for your earlier contribution” Dreet-Na croaked towards him “I hope that these spells will be useful against whatever we need to face” as he spoke he pulled his ornate flask from within his robes and uncorked it. “Though I do not know how effective my magic would be against a Dovah, I can at least provide wards and protection of an expert level to our companions”. He took a swig from the flask before stowing it away again quickly, sighing as he gazed around the somewhat desolate countryside surrounding them. As the evening wore on he wandered the immediate area and picked several plants before returning to the fire and pulling a small pestle and motor from his bag, along with a small pouch that was brimming with various ingredients. It was simple enough to do what he wanted, making several potions and a poultice from the numerous stalks and petals of the Dragon’s Tongue plants he had picked, combining them with what little Elves Ear and Snowberries he had with him.

“To resist fire” he explained to those around him, before he placed the items beside the fire. “Take what you need” he added gesturing to them, not speaking to anyone in particular as he once more buried his nose within a book, this time searching for any reference to the battle tactics of Dragons. The books he had ‘borrowed’ from High Hrothgar were proving most useful, he had already learnt that there were several different variants of dovah – each acting somewhat differently and specialised abilities. It seemed that all variants were able to use both fire and frost breath, as well as being practically impossible to defeat in melee combat. It looked like they had quite a task before them.

Sighing contently, Rozalia glanced over her shoulder at the group behind, most of them huddled around the fire. But Rozalia had chosen an alternate source for warmth - the rock pools.
Seeing the clouds of steam billowing into the air from a distance, Roze had been looking forward to the volcanic badlands for a while now. She knew the waters of the pools were clean - and far too hot to host beasts such as slaughterfish or mudcrabs - and an excellent relief from the bitter cold of the air. They had set up camp quite close to a rather deep pool, which she had lowered herself into as quickly as possible, wearing naught but her underclothes. The steam even took the edge off the cold air around her head, so she felt warmer than she had been for days.
Still looking over her shoulder, she noticed Dreet-Na had placed fire resistance potions by the fire, inviting the others to take as they pleased. She had been pondering the thought of asking one of the group for assistance when it came to magic. As a half-Breton, she knew she had retained most of the magical properties form her Mother's side of the family. But she rarely used it. She knew the basic fire and healing spells, but not to a great extent or control. She had thought of asking Dreet-Na for some form of lesson, but for some reason, she felt she could not trust him to keep it to himself. The last thing she needed was to be thought less-of by anyone in the group.
However, the Khajiit - Rawlith - she had a feeling that he would be more sympathetic to her need for magical education.
Stretching under the water, she sighed and sunk lower into the water. She'd have to talk to Rawlith some time tonight.

Rawlith surveyed the camp, the small semblance of what seemed to be one anyway. This endeavor.. Slaying Dragons, would take a grand journey and so far the journey was not looking well built. There were no horses, no carriage, minimal, personalized supplies, and barely enough for each person to make it to Kynesgrove, let alone the trip back if they weren't able to make friends, or money in-general, in Kynesgrove.. and all of that mattered only if they lived..

His mind wandered, to and fro once again about this journey, as he sat around the fire and took everything in. The fire popped and crackled while the Saxhleel laid out some recent creations, potions to resist fire as he explained. The Khajiit's eyes looked about the bottles a moment before he turned his head and stood from the rock he was perched on. His tail shifted over the stone as he stood to ease his back and the pain that was building at the base of his itching tail. He moved, stretching his body, and wandered around the outer-limits of camp before hearing the sound of water. It was something getting in water and it was close. The Khajiit used his acute hearing to follow up on it, stepping over just a few of the tiny, tectonic layers that jutted out over a pool of water which he rounded and then stepped down a set to spot a larger pool of the water. It was close to the camp, but easily concealed itself behind the tectonic layers of the volcanic lands, however the steam pillar overhead was a sign that anyone could see clearly.

He looked to the pool of water with the Khajiit equivalent of a smile and then soft laugh that sounded like a deeper form of a Cheetah chirping. The low, deep, yet soft sounded bounced over the water as he knelt down and sat on his heels with his tall swaying back and forth.

"Enjoying yourself lass?" He asked Rozalia as he made his presence obvious, as if it wasn't beforehand. "They say the water here is more then just warm, it is almost medicinal.This one recalls a traveling Priest mention it once, it is supposedly good for the body." He added, spewing a small bit of random knowledge. It was his way of breaking the ice with people, he found that showing them a Khajiit isn't just a thief or scoundrel could go a long way with them, so he made it a goal to be a conversationalist.

The journey was generally uneventful ever since they departed from Ivarstead, Valerion spent much of time, in between stops for foraging and resting, recollecting his strength and mental fortitude. As the days turned into its first week, Valerion started to notice the first effects of the soul he had consumed, wearing off. It started merely as a shake in the hand, barely perceptible, but if he held his hand out with his blade in it, Valerion could notice the blade quivering. Next came the limp that bugged him for a few minutes and then vanished for hours. Each time returning with greater impediment to mobility and a greater deal of pain.
After two days of this Valerion could take no more, he had to consume a black soul gem and he did so when he went hunting for dinner, the 6th night into their journey.
This offered him a small piece of sustenance before they would reach the next village.
A place called Darkwater Crossing.

There Valerion would use Goethia once again, and it should offer him enough energy before they reach Kynesgrove.

Their camp was just about 20 minutes away from the small mining village of Darkwater Crossing. It was here that Valerion would decide to go for his 'feeding' near night fall.
It was currently the late evening and everyone was settling down and getting comfortable after a long day of walking.
Valerion was counting the minutes away, with each stroke of the whetstone he was using to sharpen his blade, this deep metallic ringing was alongside the sound of the crackling campfire and hissing of the volcanic vents located near their camp.
The argonian, Dreet-Na spoke up first in the group that evening. Offering his second thanks for the books.
Valerion, who was sitting on a old tree stump, with his helmet resting at his feet stopped the rhythmic sound of stone against metal at this.
"It's my pleasure. No doubt your supporting skills will be of assistance, but offensive magic is always comforting to have."
Valerion placed the whetstone in his satchel and stood up, sheathing his; now razor sharp, blade into its scabbard.
"I have plenty of my own magic to teach to others in this party if they wish to learn it..."
Valerion gave a slight grin as he bent over and picked his helmet up placing it on his head.
His voice changed slightly as his spoke through the visor, becoming deeper and more resonate.
"But do note that it comes with a heavy price; one that can never be measured in gold or silver."

Valerion walked past the various members of the group and said, with his back to them.
"I'm just heading into the village, for supplies. I'll be back within the hour."
Valerions crimson cape bristled behind him as he swiftly mad his way through the trees off to Darkwater crossing.
As he guessed he soon made it to the village in roughly 18 minutes, the journey being quiet and filled with nothing but Valerions heavy foot falls and the occasional occurrence of twigs snapping and birds chirping.
The sun had sunk behind the mountain range in the north and a deep dusk lay over the small mining village. With the odd torch and lantern permeating through the darkness.
Now he just had to find someone out of the way and take their soul. He had to do it quickly and quietly too, this was different than on the mountain, if anyone screamed he'd have a hard time explaining what was going on.
Valerion quickly moved through the very few houses until he almost walked into a burly Nord, adorned in a patchwork apron and the typical attire of a blacksmith.
He had an unusual set of facial hair on his face and balding head that had brown hair waning at the outer reaches of his skull.
"Ah! Just the man I was looking for!" Valerion quickly said in a cheerful voice
The nord gave a quick look up and down of Valerion, evidently suspicious.
"Can I help you?" he said in a deep voice.
"Yes. You're the blacksmith aren't you?"
"The names Verner Rock-Chucker, and yes. Something like that..." A crease still in the nords brow as he introduced himself.
"Well, I hope you can help me." Valerion dug around in his satchel and pulled out a small crystal, it was long and thin and a clear turquoise.
"I'm hoping to have a look in the mine in search for these, If I find a vein that contains any of these crystals, I'd happily pay you for any you can dig up for me!"
All at once the crease in the nords brow vanished and his face relaxed. Seemingly looking friendlier and a lot younger.
"Ah! Well of course! I wouldn't turn away a customer, although this isn't technically my mine, it's owned by the Jarl. Also it contains Corundum, but..."
He turned away for a second and looked back at Valerion with a key in his hand. And beckoned Valerion towards the mine.
"Say if you do find any. How 'bout we keep it off the books. You pay me. Say 200 septims per vein. You know, minus tax and all the rest of it?" Verner said with a twinkle in his eye.
Valerion gave a chuckle. And shook his hand " I like the way you think my friend."
Verner unlocked the mine door and said this before leaving. "Just don't disturb the other miners whilst you're in there, I'll be waiting in the cabin near where we met, come see me if you find any, then we can discuss business"
"Will do." Valerion said before entering the mine.
It was fairly spacious and plenty of head room as Nords were quite tall. Valerion began searching through the mine. It wasn't that big but it did have a few areas that deviated form the main section of the mine. Deep and out of the way. It was here in the furthest section of the mine that Valerion spotted a dark elf, huffing away whilst trying to crack a rather large rock. Valerion smiled, he had found his dinner.
With out the theatrics he quickly Unleashed Goethia on the dark elf just after he clasped his metal gauntlets around the Elfs throat and mouth, not a single sound emanated from him as he absorbed his soul.
Valerion felt like a new man. and it was time to bury the evidence.
Valerion sharply pulled his blade out of its scabbard and with all his might swung it in a devastating arc towards the nearest supporting column of the tunnel, the wood splintered and exploded upon impact, and a heavy cracking noise came from above accompanied by a great deal of soil and dust.
Quickly sheathing his blade Valerion sprinted back up the tunnel as it collapsed behind him, he could hear commotion from various other points of the mine. All of them evidently afraid of the entire mine collapsing in on them.
It wasn't difficult for Valerion to make it outside of the mine and quickly into the darkness in the chaos he had left behind him.
Valerion laughed happily as he made it away into the night. It was rare he had that much fun in his pursuit of a meal.
But it quickly dawned upon him that he had got no supplies to bring back to the camp.
So he felt the best decision would be to hunt for some elk or deer in the surrounding area for half an hour or so. Just to make sure he didn't raise any suspicions back at camp.