It was a dreary afternoon somewhere in Cyrodill. Rain spat from the sky. It was sort of metaphorical, in a way, of how most of the people on the carts that trundled through the mud were feeling. There were three carts full of prisoners, around six on each, several Imperial guards circling around them. They were 'high security' prisoners it seemed. Potential threats to the state, they had been called. As Madran glanced around at some of the people around him, he had his doubts. One of them, beside Madran, was a young Nord boy. He looked petrified. Madran nudged him as much as he could whilst his hands were bound and his mouth was gagged, giving him a reassuring look, the boy inhaled and nodded.

It was not long until they would reach the Imperial town where they would meet their fate. It seemed as if they were the executioner's fodder now. No ammount of alibis or excused would get them out of this. Madran shook his head calmly. He had not planned to die like this, falsely named as an enemy of the Imperial Empire. Sure, he had not been working with them, per se, during the last few years, but he certainly wasn't against them. He was doing them favours in exterminating uncountable ammounts of Thalmor. He was sure a lot of the people around him were innocent. He pitied them, but he also pitied himself. He had a task to complete in annihilating those who took his loved ones away from him, and he had not completed it.

The rain began to beat heavier upon his short-cut hair and bare chest. He had been stripped of all his graments but some ragged leather leggings and some strapped leather gloves, which where bound together to prevent any chance of escape. As the rain's hypnotic pattern increased, it began to hear like the feet of fast horses. In fact, Madran was sure he could hear horses. He turned to look behind the carts, and sure enough in the distance, there were men on horses.

"Prepare yourselves!" One of the Imperial guards yelled. "Incoming hostiles!" Another roared. They took out their blades and faced the Aldmeri, cutting them down from their horses, or being cut down themselves. It quickly became a bloodbath. Heads rolled. The prisoners glanced to eachother- there was a thicket of woods not far from here, if they ran and did not fall, they could evade their captors, or die in the process. Most of them jumped from the carts and ran.

Madran followed, nodding to the yound Nord boy to follow him. He ran, it was a struggled whilst having his hands tied. He looked back to see the Aldmeri cutting down the Imperials and finishing them off, before turning their attention to the prisoners. The Aldmeri took out their bows and set a rain of arrows towards the prisoners. It was a truly amazing, yet horrifying sight, seeing these impared men and women running across the plains fall to the floor one by one. Blood covered the flowers as they ran. The Aldmeri leaving few standing...

---

THE ELDER SCROLLS
CONCORDAT

---

Madran had managed to make it in to the woods unharmed. He panted, looking back. He saw the Nord boy - an arrow in the back of his head. Madran cringed. It was not pleasant, he looked back on the dozens of bodies. He wondered how many others had made it in to the woods, and he guessed few. He leant over to a sharp branch and released his hands and pulled his gag off, now free of any bounds.

He quickly ran through the the woods for several minutes, until he eventually made it to a clearing - a small stream where he washed his face. Hopefully any other survivors would find their way here. He sat back and closed his eyes.

Rain. It was always raining at the most inconvenient times in- Where are we again? Ah dammit, somewhere along the lines Atillius had lost where they were, great.

At the back of the caravan of carts and on his way to be executed. Escaping would just lead to deeper trouble out in the wilderness. Atillius looked down at his wrists and stared at the hard-leather straps around them. Strong enough to be impossible to snap, just rough enough to make his forearms itch beyond belief. They were professionally made Imperial Legion bindings, they had these little studs on the inside that kept them locked into place under your wrist so you couldn't turn your hand without breaking a bone. Whatever sadist had invented them was both a genius and a horrible monster.

Atillius grumbled as cold rain began soaking itself into the his hide cloak, like an ice wraith was gnawing at the back of his neck. "Mmphrrggrrpph." Right, voicing complaints won't work for two reasons. One: He's effectively on death row right now, and the fast track plan as well. Two: They gagged him, apparently they had tired of hearing him insulting them. Pigs, they were afraid of the truth he preached. A distant scream from the somewhere in the caravan echoed out, something about hostile forces. Splendid! Now he was going to be attacked by bandits and hung up outside of some old barrow to rot awa- Aldmeri.

"Fmmk! Fmmk fmmk fmmk!" The bindings didn't much censor his swearing as a group of Altmer charged in, letting fly arrows and swords. A gory scene if ever he saw one. An Altmer with a longsword slashed at him and would have killed him, had it not been for the leather bindings on his wrists. When the blade came down to meet him he brought up his hands in a seemingly futile attempt to block the sword. It was not so futile as it seemed when the straps held just enough to keep the blade from killing him. A second swing was stopped in its tracks by an imperial soldier impaling the elf on his blade. Atillius looked away from the carnage for a moment and spotted what looked like a Dark Elf fleeing the scene with a nord boy. The nord didn't make it very far as an arrow ended his days with a quick strike.

He untied the gag from his own mouth and hopped down out of the cart, it bounced up and down and actually knocked over another prisoner in the process. Who was concurrently slain by an Altmer with a mace. Atillius grimaced and started a slow jog after the Dunmer, poor kid, he had just gotten someone killed. Ah well, at least some of these people were ACTUALLY working with the Aldmeri. So he wouldn't concern himself with the loss of the life of a possible spy. Ahead he saw broken branches and muddy tracks leading through the forest, the Dunmer was panicked and left an almost perfect hunting trail behind him. With deliberate intent he tried his best to cover up any tracks left behind himself, all the while following the tracks of his fellow escapee.

Up ahead was a small clearing and a fresh riverbed, likely formed from the rains that are pouring down. It had taken him about twenty minutes to arrive, the sounds of battle were far behind him now so that was good enough for him. "Ho! Jovial greetings my Dunmer comrade! It seems this day is a lucky one indeed, we have escaped bindings and survived a bloodbath, so I'll chalk that up as a victory."

Staring up at the stormy sky, Elroneth had narrow eyes. She simply was trying to enjoy her time with the storm, having taken a liking to rain over the years. She was furious, but glad that her trip was dark and gloomy instead of bright and sunny. Maybe that was just a personal preference, she couldn't say for sure. She didn't bother looking at the others in the cart she was in; Madran was not among them, he had been tossed into another cart, with other people. With the amount of guards, it was obvious an escape wouldn't be easy, especially if it was just her. There wasn't exactly any methods of communication either, so getting a group together to even attempt it was impossible. She grunted irritably, lifting up her feet and stomping them down to express her anger. She got a couple of looks, but simply ignored them. She probably had gotten captured because of one of the people in this very cart! At least she knew that those who were actually guilty were getting what they deserved... But the innocent, including herself, were also heading for the block. She honestly didn't want to lose her head, she was still young! There was so much to see!

She looked back, noticing the trees. She knew if she could reach the woods, she could outrun these armored goons. But there were many of them, on all sides of the cart. Trying to simply leave without a distraction was no good. She pondered her options, looking down at her soaked lap. 'Should have made a bolt for it when that first idiot tried to escape. Probably was my best shot.' She thought, memories of this terrible journey already sinking into her mind. From what she could tell, there was no way out of this. She was a goner.

"Prepare yourselves!"

"Mhm?" She lifted her head, looking around. She had absolutely no idea what was going on, but it sounded more thrilling than sitting here and waiting to die. She caught sight of a group approaching from behind, and felt her situation looking a little brighter as she heard a guard yell.

"Incoming hostiles!"

The sudden battle that broke out was her chance! She knew it was now or never, as their attackers seemed to be out for not only the imperials, but for the prisoners as well. She noticed the others beginning to make a run for it, and followed the example. She slipped out the back of the wagon, splitting away from the other fleeing prisoners. They'd surely focus more on a larger group than a lone prisoner. At least she hoped they would, as she ran. Her feet feeling right at home in the mud. She slowed down somewhat, glancing back with uncertainty. She thought about Madran for a moment, but figured out of all of those captured, he'd be fine. He seemed like someone who could take care of himself, at least that was the opinion she had from her short travels with him. She shook her head slowly, focusing back on running. She felt more confident as she passed through the trees, wishing she could climb up into them. They'd probably pass right by her if they came this way, it'd be great. But at the moment she couldn't do such a task, considering her hands were tied behind her back. She'd have to figure out how to solve that problem later.

Maybe it was the fear of being shot from behind that made it feel like forever, but Elroneth felt like she had been running for a long time. She slowed down, still walking steadily, nervously glancing back occasionally in case she was being followed. Though soon enough she came across a riverbed. She stared, curious if others stopped farther down, considering she had ran a bit away from the rest. There seemed to be more of a clearing farther down, she figured if there was anyone around, they'd be there. It seemed like a decent location to rest, and maybe get somebody to free her. She continued to march, eyeing the clearing as she approached. Hopefully she'd get lucky, though since she had already escaped captivity, she was sure her luck would go sour before too long.

'But that's life...'

Ophius sat as silent and motionless as if he were still safely hidden in shadows, his eyes closed and focusing on meditative focus as much as he could manage in this position, which was paltry to say the least... His mind worked over and over his situation, plotting, planning, theorizing, struggling to come up with a way to escape without either a sword or arrows sticking him.

To other prisoner's though he may have looked dead were it not for staying sat up, having made no apparent attempts to move or complain since being stuffed into the middle cart. Like the other's he was amply bound and his muzzle was strapped shut, but being an argonian that may not have been too big a deal... were it not for the great insult of having stuck corks onto the ends of each of his claws to keep him from cutting himself free, and more so a 'charm' was wrapped around his wrist bindings to cut him off from magic that could save him. There was 'one' boon he seemed to benefit from, the armor he'd been wearing when he was captured was easily mistaken for plain concealing cloths [unless you'd rather I remove this], and with his surrender they seemed content to bind him thoroughly and insult him with corks... It wouldn't help him right now anyway, he couldn't even turn invisible because of that charm, and it'd be too obvious if he tried to remove a cork and cut himself free, that'd just get him gutted early.

Even so, his mind worked over so many details, how quickly he could 'de-cork' and slit someone's throat, contemplating the density of the Guard's skulls if he slammed them into the cart hard enough, and even the slim possibility of breaking someone's neck with his still free tail... as satisfying as these actions might be, each one was certain to result in his death shortly there-after and... 'wait... what's that sound?'

He had tuned out the rain, though it felt delightful on the scales that were exposed, but a sound that was more prevelant came to him through the rain, a harder sound, rushed... All at once those silver eyes shot open and he looked behind them 'By the shadows, it can't be... It'd be far too coincidental.' But sure enough the shouts went out, They were aldmeri and they were coming for the imperials... or perhaps someone among the prisoners really was a spy and they wanted them back bad enough.

This was a chance he couldn't sacrifice, as soon as the imperials rallied and turned their attention away from the prisoners and to the Aldmeri bearing down on them, he dug his claws against eachother, scrabbling carefully to pull the cork off of his index claw, and though quite painful he twisted his hands so that he could dig the claw into the leather bindings.

'wait for it...'

He cautiously sawed through it as the assailants drew closer, tiny increments at a time.

'wait...'

The first of the imperials clashed, and his claw reached the half way point of the bindings, severing the string holding the magic blocking charm.

'A little longer...'

The first of the prisoners began to leap off of the carts and try to escape, drawing the attention of both Imperial and Aldmeri as they fought.

'Now!'

Even with the bindings not completely severed yet he rose to his feet and leapt from the cart, vanishing from sight in mid-air, having activated his invisibility as soon as he was away from the charm. while the other prisoner's bolted straight for the tree's, he took advantage of his invisibility and sprinted to the side before arching towards the forest, effectively ensuring that the Aldmeri arrows weren't even aimed at him as many of the prisoners met their end shortly after finding freedom.

Since he first leapt from the cart he counted every second with practiced precision, keeping track of what time remained of his invisibility while running full out... He broke the tree's with only seconds to spare and pressed himself to the other side of one of the tree's just as he became visible again, panting mildly from the forced exertion, such effort went into it, and now he had a whole new ocean of possibilities for grasping his freedom, and of course quickly finished cutting through his wrist bindings, then free'd his muzzle.

First he looked back over the field, checking the distance incase any of the assailants were giving chase, then turned to view the forest's edge around him for potential resources... Rocks and wood don't make very good weapons when one doesn't have the time to turn them into something effective, but a few tree's down he spotted something much more 'malleable' pinned to a tree by some Arrows...

A few seconds later he was trotting off into the forest with a fresh corpse over one shoulder, still warm even, careful to keep a brisk pace and use his tail to sweep away his tracks.

---

Minutes later he came to the edge of the same clearing as those who had fled before him, and on instinct he paused for a moment to observe them, silently appraising the area for threats before deciding that for the time being, the clearing bore only other escaped prisoners.

So he stepped into the clearing, heading straight for the river, though now he didn't have a corpse with him, instead he had 8 large red-stained bones under one arm, A few strips of something thin and red over a shoulder, and both claws very bloody. He didn't speak yet as he reached the stream and got to cleaning his claws, as well as washing the bones and sinew off, followed after a moment by Snapping one in 2, creating the barest of improvised stabbing tools.

when he finally spoke, it was less of a greeting and more of a critique, though his voice had a strange slightly creepy smoothness to it for an argonian "You under-estimate your situation Human, Even if the entire band won't chase after us, we are still unarmed escaped prisoners in the forest, likely to have at least a few Aldmeri try to follow us to 'clean up', unless you think you can take them bare-handed, we best not stay in this obvious location for too long."

He paused and leaned over into the steam to take some fresh gulps of water, leaning back up with a quiet sigh before holding up one of the still solid bones "Now, who wants a weapon? It'll take me a few minutes to get each one to a useable state and they won't last long in a real fight, but they'll be better than bare hands... I can make daggers and bows from this 'material'." He wouldn't call him a black-smith, so much as a survivor, Better to be okay harvesting bones to make weapons than to leave oneself devoid of weapons in an emergency... and that dead prisoner sure wasn't using them.

Martox sat, hunched over with his eyelids shut. Drops of rain started to pelt the back of his head and neck, and he slowly came back from unconsciousness. At first, everything appeared blurry, he couldn't make out the simplest letter of any type of text, had you asked him to. What's going on? Where am I? All he could feel was rain hitting his back, soaking his clothes and his hair. Soon, his vision returned to him and the first thing he saw were the bindings on his hands, then he saw the cart, the horses, and finally the soldiers and other 'prisoners.' When he more closely examined them though, he saw that their bindings were different then his. His bindings held his hands in a prayer like gesture, while everyone else could easily move their fingers. Smart I suppose. Can't use magicka if your hands are touching each other like this. Not without destroying your flesh at least. He then looked to the sky, the eerily gray and dark sky. Water droplets hit his face and eyes, making him squint. Martox always liked the rain, it made good cover when sneaking up on someone for the kill, or to pickpocket. But this time, Martox glanced at the soldiers again who seemed to be stationed on all sides, it was more ironic then anything. The cover he used so many time to take the life of others, would be used to kill him as well. Cowards. I gave up that fight. They could have taken me easily. They didn't have to knock me out. Finally, Martox's last sense came back to him: taste. What was that that he was tasting? Cotton? Cloth? Probably a mixture of the the two. A gag? Really? A little over the top. It's not like I can shout as the Greybeards do.

Martox cracked his neck, and stared at a Khajiit who sat across from him. Even with it's animal features, Martox could tell he was afraid. The Khajiit stared back a Martox, it's eyes were filled with terror and fear. What was it expecting to see from Martox? Sympathy? Martox stared blankly at the Khajiit, showing no signs of emotion, no fear, not even the slightest bit of worry. From the looks of it though, Martox seemed to be the only one who belonged here. He looked again at the other carts; no one else seemed like they had ever done anything wrong in their lives. Martox was a killer and a thief, and somehow, he always knew it would come down to this. That this would be the way his life would end. Was that why he wasn't afraid? Something in him told him though, that this wasn't it. This wasn't his time. There was more to come, he just had to find the right moment to escape. But when would that come? Things looked bleak, but then it happened, a noise. In the distance. Martox could hear the clips and clops of the horses near him, but there were more. Further away. A rescue team? No one here seems like royalty. Or even part of a bandit squad. I left the Brotherhood quite sometime ago... So it can't be them... Who could this be? As he finished his thought, he got his answer.

Incoming hostiles!

Martox jerked his head in the way he heard the cry. And he saw them, the Thalmor. Not long at all after that, he saw arrows. And, his favorite part, he saw blood. Gruesome scenes of Imperials getting impaled by steel arrows. Martox looked behind him and saw exactly what he wanted to see. Not far away from the trail was forest, If I can get to those trees, getting away will be as easy as- Martox felt the cart start to wobble and move, until he only felt mud and accumulated rain water on his face. He quickly pushed himself to his back and snorted out the mud that plugged up his nostrils; and currently his only way to breath. The cart was on it's side with a crushed Imperial underneath it, now another obstacle to get to the wooded sanctuary that set on the other side, and the horse in the lead was dead, with three arrows in its back leg, and one in the back of its skull. Martox turned his head to see the Khajiit thrashing about on it's back, trying to back on it's feet. Martox also noticed something else though; an arrow headed straight for his chest. Time almost seemed to slow down while Martox used his legs to pull the Khajiit close, and in the direct path of that arrow. The arrow plunged into the Khajiit's eye, and out of the back of it's skull, splattering Martox with brain matter and blood. You or me, my feline friend. Martox used the arrow tip to cut his bindings, freeing his hands, and he ripped out the gag that was in place.

Behind Martox he could hear running movements coming towards him. He quickly gathered his thoughts and, in one fluid motion, turned around while firing an ice spike through the face of an Imperial who was about to come down on him with a battle axe. Martox crouched and made quick steps to the dead Imperial under the cart, and pulled the man's bow and quiver from him, He won't be needing it I suspect. Martox put his back to the cart as arrows whizzed past, and he took a deep breath while readying an arrow. He ran out and jumped over the cart, placing one hand on the edge of it to ensure he made it over without any mistake. As he landed on the other side, a Thalmor spotted him, but before the Thalmor could pull the string on his bow back, Martox already fired his arrow, which landed on his throat, right between his jugular and esophagus and out the back. The Thalmor dropped his bow and fell to his knees while hold his neck. While Martox marveled at his kill, a sharp pain entered his left shoulder. But it subsided quickly with the amount of adrenaline running through his veins, he just turned and shot another arrow at the Imperial who struck him. This time however, Martox didn't take the time to watch and see how his kill was, instead he went on a full sprint the woods.

Martox made it behind a tree. When he looked to his left, a dead Nord man laid there. An arrow in the back of his head. I'll be taking that. Thanks. Martox placed one foot on the back of the mans head and ripped the arrow out, then placed it in the quiver with the others he also put the bow string across his chest and started to walk deeper into the woods. Not long after that, he found a small creek. Whether it was there because of the rain, or it was there before, didn't matter much to Martox. What did matter to him, was the thirst in his throat. There wasn't enough saliva in his mouth for him to spit, that gag soaked up every bit of moisture that was in his mouth it seemed. When Martox reached the stream, he knelt down next to it and started taking scoops of water with his hands and drinking every bit he could get in his mouth. After a few of those gulps, Martox felt he pain in his shoulder come back. So he turned his head to see an arrow sticking out of his back. "Fuck.." Martox mumbled under his breath. How could I have been so careless? Why did I hesitate to watch that Thalmor go down? His hands started to glow red as fire balls formed in them, but he quickly formed fists which snuffed out the flames. He took several deep breathes before he held it, quickly reached back with his right hand, and ripped the arrow out. Blood and flesh came out of the wound, but Martox used flame to quickly solder the wound. a small grunt escaped through Martox's lips. He let out his breath and stayed motionless for a few second before using a heal spell on himself. It wasn't much, but enough. He picked up the arrow that was in him and placed it in his quiver, Every arrow counts. Hell, maybe I'll even be able to use this against the damned Imperial that hit me with it.

Martox perked up his ears; something else was here. He listened closer, Voices...No.. Voice. Sounds like an Argonian. Another survivor? I did see that one on a different cart. Even so, I should approach with caution. Martox went back into the trees and followed the direction of the voice. Quickly, Martox noticed a clearing, and several other people, including the Argonian. They are all wearing prisoner outfits, so that must mean they were on there too. They do look familiar I suppose. Martox watched for a little bit longer, before coming out of the tree line. "Keep your voice down Argonian, I could hear you from up the creek." Martox said in a monotone, hushed, voice while staring directly at the Argonian. I have a feeling, we're going to be very close friends for at least a couple of hours.

Great.

Madran was sat down uncomfotably with his eeys closed and his mind elsewhere when a large man entered the clearing. Madran snapped out of his daydreams when the man called out. "Ho! Jovial greetings my Dunmer comrade! It seems this day is a lucky one indeed, we have escaped bindings and survived a bloodbath, so I'll chalk that up as a victory." Madran stood up with his blade in hand, defencively unsure of the man. He inspected him for a moment, before confirming to himself that he was not a member of the Aldmeri- Madran had an eye for this. He had fought them for years, he could see if someone was with them or not, this man was not.

Before Madran could say anything to the man, he saw another figure enter the clearing. An Argonian. The Argonian was clealry not with the Thalmor, but there was something eerie about him, something that would likely incline Madran to be wary of him. "You under-estimate your situation Human, Even if the entire band won't chase after us, we are still unarmed escaped prisoners in the forest, likely to have at least a few Aldmeri try to follow us to 'clean up', unless you think you can take them bare-handed, we best not stay in this obvious location for too long," the Argonian spoke out to the man who had only just greeted, in a tone with a distinct lack of warmness.

The Argonian was holding bones, which was nothing less than unnerving, to say the least. "Now, who wants a weapon? It'll take me a few minutes to get each one to a useable state and they won't last long in a real fight, but they'll be better than bare hands... I can make daggers and bows from this 'material'." The Argonian asked, glancing back to Madran and the other man. Madran merely shook his head. "I am not leaving my blades on that cart," he spoke in a calm, assertive and gravely tone. "My friend was on one of those carts, and she hasn't got here yet. I'm going back when the Aldmeri clear off."

"Keep your voice down Argonian, I could hear you from up the creek," another human introduced himself, walking in to the clearing. He hadn't heard Madran, of course. Madran made it a habbit of making sure the information he shared only reached those that he wished it to. There were four of them stood here now. "Listen, Argonian," Madran nodded. "Perhaps it would be helpful if you crafted some weapons so that we will have something to keep us safe until we return to the carts."

Madran peered in to the woods. He felt a pang of sorrow for the Nord boy that had fell. Sure, he didn't even know his name - he hadn't even spoke to him, but the look of desperation in his eyes had been the last look before they shut for a last time, and that was never good. Madran believed that nobody should die with fear, a reason why he had struggled to come to terms with the fact he had been captured. But he was free now. He sighed, and began to wonder about Elroneth, who was somewhere back there. He was confident she had survived, she wasn't the sort to get herself killed in a situation like this.

"My name is Madran, for what it's worth," Madran spoke out to the others. "Perhaps we should be on a first name basis, considering the fact we are now enemies of the Imperial Empire, and unless you would like to run to the Aldmeri for protection, which is unlikely considering they just tried to kill us, I suggest we stick together." Madran ground his teeth behind his closed lips, he had travelled alone for so long, but it seemed now that strength in numbers was the best option. "Though of course, any of us could be Aldmeri," he peered at the human who had just entered the clearing and inspected him. He did not look like an Aldmeri. He shrugged and attempted to relax his tensed fists.

A few footsteps from behind, very silent, like a wolf creeping across sodden ground. Atillius tilted his head a bit to see an Argonian slinking out from the trees, sneaky one isn't he. But Argonians are usually unaligned with Aldmeri, so there was little threat of him being a spy. The Argonian spoke in an unsettling tone about being underestimating the situation that the party of three was in. "Balderdash! We're in a pe-" Before he could finish another individual approached, a young man. A human race, and judging by his stature he was a Breton. 'Could hear you talking from up the creek' he says. Some sort of thief or assassin obviously, if he could hear him from a distance. Somewhere along the line the lizard had offered to make some weapons. Atillius just smiled at the notion that a couple bones could suffice as a large enough weapon for him.

"Son, you just aren't doin' it right. A weapon in my hands needs a lot more weight than a handful of bones can supply, and if you'll notice? We're surrounded by stuff that can easily be used as a weapon." Coughing to cover up a somewhat immature snicker at the lizard man he pressed his thumb against the top row of his teeth. "At least, for someone who can hold it." He reached up to a thick oaken branch that was just within reach from where he stood, just about four feet in length, four inches across, and covered with smaller branches and leaves. The fat man let his body weight do the work and he pulled his feet out from under him, the branch stood little chance and snapped off like a twig. "Tsshhaa fuck!" Atillius rocked a bit and stood back up on his feet, there was a large thorn stuck through the seat of his pants. With a bit of tugging he pulled it out and tossed it aside, his face a bit reddened and very frustrated. "You saw nothin'."

The Dunmer looked back in the general direction of the cart and Atillius followed suit. Plenty of dead folks were back there, Atillius was just lucky that it wasn't him facedown in the mud. Madran introduced himself and said 'keep to a first name basis.' Well, that wouldn't be too hard. Atillius only had a first name and a title. "The name's Atillius, Atillius Morrow. Morrow is just a title though, so just call me Atillius." There was something slipping his mind, but he couldn't quite place it. Something that the Dunmer had said earlier, abou- Oh, yeah. That.

"What was that about 'You're not leaving your blades on that cart.'? You gotta be crazy 'er sommin' for sayin' that. You expect to go back there and survive? One, you're unarmed. Even if this lizard made you a weapon you'd still stand no chance against Imperial Steel or Altmer blades! Two, if all of us helped you? You'd still be outnumbered!" It was at this time that he had begun shouting. "And three! We just escaped that band of idiots and liars, what kind of significance could a couple blades hold to you that you'd intentionally risk dying over?" The air blew from his nose quite hotly, the idiot was likely gonna have some quip about how 'You wouldn't understand' and then walk off to get himself killed. "Dammit, I was just in a good mood. Where's the nearest tavern, I need a drink." To burn off a bit of frustration he ripped away all the sticks and leaves from the length of wood he held in his hand. Giving it a more club-like shape, also leaving behind some splinters near the top for 'strategic reasons.'

Ophius both quickly and smoothly turned his head to spot Martox approaching and remarking on him being audible from further down, and countered quite sharply "Then you must either have very sharp ears, or were closer than the range at which one worries about dangers hearing them... I am well acquainted with how far away I can be heard at any one time, if there were any Aldmeri close enough to hear me, i would more likely be preparing to dig a blade into their throat than speaking." with a slight little huff he turned his attention back to Madran and listened intently to the dark elf, though he seemed to completely ignore the Breton, he was keep a figurative ear out for his movements.

An eye-ridge perked suddenly as he took in those words though "You intend to go 'back'? Interesting. though I imagine, if anywhere, your friend will be somewhere in this forest like the rest of us, and if the aldmeri don't take anything useful with them, they'd probably dispose of it... though, I suppose it's possible they just won't care though." At Madran's approval of his 'weapons', he chose a couple of the bones and snapped off just the ends of them before setting to work using his claws to carefully carve slivers off of them and work to guide it into a bladed shape. "Though if you intend to go back, I would suggest taking some steps to conceal ourselves until then."

He laughed a little at the next thing, "I am Ophius, and anyone who would run to the Aldmeri for help is foolish enough to deserve what comes to them... I certainly would never consider it, I hear they 'frown' on dark magic that doesn't belong to them, heh... and on that note, It doesn't take a genius to figure that the Aldmeri attacked because, perhaps, one of us in that cart 'was' a spy and possessed information valuable enough to warrant 'acquisition'... I'd hardly say 'rescue' referring to anything to do with the Aldmeri of course."

Of course, then the Big man started talking again, though Ophius found himself giving off a slight smirk at the boasting being followed by a thorn in the butt. "Hey, if I had enough bones i could make a hammer of something... Daggers are more practical given the ammount of materials though... and tempting as it is to go into a contest to counter your implication, there's one simple thing that keeps me from using heavy weapons like hammers and clubs... you can't stab someone with them." Mercifully though, he did not verablly respond to the man's mistake, though he did snicker a bit indignently.

The bone was steadily beginning to look more like a blade on the upper half, albeit a thin one... he paused on one and got to work on a second, if there was time he could refine it a bit before use... he got speaking again, yet he sounded a bit more sympathetic this time. "However, on the note of your blades... perhaps it would be better if you described them and someone else collected... oh, say, someone good at being stealthy incase the carts are being watched... or even better, someone who can go 'unseen' right infront of the enemies very eyes? I would have a better chance of retrieving them without being seen and attracting threats to follow back to the rest of us, I was considering slinking off to loot the leavings at some point anyway, and you could keep an eye out for your companion... I can somewhat sympathize with growing attached to one's blades... when you linger in shadows for most of your life, your blades are often the only company you have, killers in the hands of a killer... of course, mine were taken somewhere else when I was captured, too dangerous to leave with normal weapons... I had few, but any one could have killed by 'accident', very poisonous..." He didn't seem worried about implying being an assassin, he might be full of himself enough to be certain he'd handle any trouble it brings, or perhaps he was just comfortable with it.

Martox strolled over to the small pond that formed near the others, though he went around the other survivors rather than in between them. When he reached the pond, he knelt down, cupped his hands, and started to drinks of the water. These fools. The one wants to go back? The one seems to actually be considering the offer, and the other just seems like an over-sized oaf. With his thirst quenched, he stood up and turned around, just in time to see the large Imperial snap a branch off of a tree and slightly trip over. himself. Martox only stared blankly at him for several seconds before walking over to a different tree and posting up against it. So, a Dumner that wants to get his weapons back from the place we just got away from, an Argonian who thinks ones are good weapons, and an Imperial who can't even stay on his two feet. He glanced at everyone around, And this is our team. How... Interesting. Martox let out a deep sigh and pointed his attention the Argonian, "As it's been stated, those bones wont hold up for very long. Even if you make them sharp enough, they'll splinter and break after maybe three uses." He crossed his arms and cracked his neck, ''Unless they're giant's bones. Then they might last five or six."

Martox turned his attention to the Imperial who was shaping the branch into a club, "Better watch were you step. Those thorns tore the skin, and near those thorns is a plant, that blue one there," He raised his hand and pointed toward the dark blue flowers that were in full bloom near the thorns, "They excrete a poison that is deadly unless quickly dealt with." Martox turned his head to look around the area, trying to see if he could recognize something, in case he'd been there before. Which of course proved to be untrue, "And we don't know how near the closest town is. So an Alchemist, along with that drink you want, could possibly be pretty far away." Matox walked over to the flower and gently touched it, "It only affects you if it gets in your blood stream." He turned his head to look at Atillius, "If you start to feel weak in the chest, let us know." Martox raised himself up and looked into Atillius' eyes, "Just so we can catch your body before you make an earthquake from falling to the ground." Martox started to walk back towards the tree he was up against earlier and again leaned against it.

Martox finally looked at Madran to address his near-insane mission, "You want to go back and get your weapons? They must be pretty special for you want to go through that risk just to get them." He stood up now, no longer leaning on the tree and a stern look crossed his face while he stared at Madran with intent, "Unless your just taking us there to turn us into the Aldmeri." He walked a few steps closer to the Dumner, "It would make sense. Make us believe you're with us, so you can reap the benefits of a successful capture of escaped fugitives." Martox's gaze broke and looked at the ground, "Though I honestly wouldn't mind going back either. I could pick up a few more arrows for this poorly made Imperial bow. I could even find a better bow in with the prisoners things." He looked at Atillius and Ophius, "I would only suggest we kept an eye him. If we all decide to go." Martox looked at Ophius, "Unless you're planning on going by yourself. I wouldn't mind accompanying you. Since you're clearly confident with your stealth skills, I think I could trust you to have my back." A double mission. I haven't gone on an objective with someone else since we went after the Jarl in Markarth. Should be interesting.