Weynon Priory, West of Chorrol



It was the dead of night in the Chapel of Weynon Priory; perfect for a clandestine meeting of the Hidden Militia. On the stone floor, among the pews, were the nine members recruited so far; the number was a good omen. Before the candle-lit altar was the person who had called the Hidden Militia to the Priory, an Imperial Woman who wore the flowing, shimmering silk of a higher clergywoman of the Church of the Nine Divines. Despite her green-ish hair, no doubt either an unsanctioned fashion choice or a mark of some magical accident, the lady had a solemn smile as she greeted the group with all courtesy and introduced herself as, "Confessor Elessenia of the Church of the Nine Divines, at your service."

She then spoke to them, "You are all members of the Hidden Militia, sworn to aid the Empire by by clearing the way for actions that many among us will not understand. Among these are the strengthening of what remains of the Empire of Tamriel through two new provinces; provinces whose current inhabitants have not been fully won over to the Nine Divines, much less Talos himself. Nevertheless, it is our hope that with the embrace of the Wrothgar Mountains and Orsinium, plus The Reach and its silver and soldiers, they will one day see Talos' light."

She then elaborated, "The Elder Council, with the reluctant backing of the new Emperor, Titus Mede II, have offered to engage in secret talks with delegates from Orsinium and some prominent clans from The Reach as a prelude to their recognition as Imperial Provinces on par with High Rock, Hammerfell, and Skyrim. Those delegates and a contingent of the Blades have left under safe conduct to the town of Bruma, where they are to rendezvous with you and go south to the Imperial City where those talks are to be held. However, this will not be easy - We have internal enemies who want to see these talks fail, and the road to Bruma is crawling with bandits now. Not just that, but there will be opposition in Bruma itself, as the Mayor of the town is suspicious of our activities and is likely to rally the Nord population to riot if he finds out about the purpose of their and your presence."

She looked at the gathered members of the Hidden Militia as they absorbed her words in the candlelight of the Chapel, before adding, "You will all receive a stipend of septims not just as work expenses, but as wages, along with special passes and documents that will allow you to go through Legion checkpoints and avail of the services of Imperial offices and the Imperial Cult. You will also be given a provisional pardon for previous crimes committed before your recruitment. Still, your documents will not clear you from committing new crimes, although we will loan money for bail and fines if the crimes are minor enough - Yes, a loan, not a gift."

Confessor Elessenia then stretched out her hands and spoke once more, "Now, let me bestow upon you all a weaker version of the Blessing of Talos - A less potent version of that which was granted to the Divine Crusader against Umaril the Unbound during the Oblivion Crisis; my great-grandfather was The Prophet. You are free to refuse this, but that will increase the tribulations you will go through."

She waited for their acceptance or refusal, then asked, "Are there any more questions?"

@Carantathraiel@Lunamaria Hawke@Alfhedil@Raqueltrper@Crimson Flame@Randomguy@Andre Valias@WSilversun@Rune_Alchemist

Alexios listened with rapt attention to the Confessor, his helmet tucked under his arm. He said nothing, but mulled over Elessenia's explanation of the plan. Legate Urion had approved his squad for action, but sent him to Weynon Priory to meet the "Hidden Militia" that the legionnaires would be working with to protect the delegation. When he heard that the Blades were involved, Alexios' eyes narrowed. He still said nothing, but wondered why the Eighth Legion would send his squad when there were already Blades as part of the entourage. When she finished addressing the Hidden Militia, Elessenia offered a minor Blessing of Talos. Alexios shook his head and stepped back, clasping a hand over his Amulet of Akatosh. He, however, remained to watch the Hidden Militia and what they might discuss.

Herding Kiffar to the Priory had been a... Task, for the poor guardsmen that were sent to fetch him for this charge. He had been working, at the time, playing merchant guard to a caravan making it's way out of Skyrim, though the mere presence of the vast Khajiit had been enough to ward off common banditry and the occasional stray wolf pack. Which, unfortunately for all involved, meant that he was terribly bored when they arrived- and that a patrol of Imperial Guards was the most interesting thing to come off the side of the road in days. He has immediately decided that, clearly, they were here to pilfer the goods from this merchant.

That unfortunate misunderstanding made for an interesting entrance, when they finally arrived, just in time to hear the beginning of the Confessor's speech. Two guardsman shouldered through the doors, their faces badly bruised, one with their arm in a sling- another six coming in behind them, dragging Kiffar in their wake. He was walking along willingly enough by then, though he was forced to duck low to squeeze through the door, grinning broadly all the while. The massive Khajiit was shackled and chained, though there hardly looked to be a scratch on him, his voice a deep, throaty thing that seemed always but a hair from developing into a roar.

"Kiffar has told you, this crime was only a misunderstanding. Kiffar believed you to be tricksy bandits, yes? You may unbind him. This one promises he will not throw any more horses... Maybe not any more people, either, if the Imperials share the jerky Kiffar can smell, hm?"

The mere mention of horses was enough to make the poor man in a sling grimace, while another approached Kiffar as one might a wild animal, taking cautious steps and leaning away the whole while. Kiffar simply smiled- a terrible, toothy smile- and held his wrists out to be unchained. The moment he was free, manacles clattering to the ground, he took a firm step towards the two who has been bruised up in the attempt to bring him along, earning a startled yelp from one, and a growling laugh from Kiffar.

One of the more senior guardsmen rolled their eyes, leaning around Kiffar's bulk to offer an apologetic nod towards the Confessor.

"He calmed down once we explained what we were about- but whatever they want with this.... Citizen, they'd better be prepared to keep him on a short leash."

Out they went, then, leaving Kiffar to stand, towering, in the middle of the room- rubbing the ache from his wrists idly, while gnawing on a strip of jerky hanging from the side of his mouth, either stolen or gifted while the focus was on his escort. He listened politely enough to the Confessor's introduction, then, the explanation of why he had been brought here and what they were to do. When the offer of blessing came, he stepped forward with a low rumbling, easing to a knee before the Confessor. Even then, he was at easy eye level.

"Kiffar will take the green woman's blessing. The Empire is good work, for stray kitties, hm?"

The air was uncomfortably warm inside the chapel. The air outside of it had been pleasantly cold, the aroma of the mountain trees and flora lingering in the air. In here, though, the lit braziers made the air thicker, the incense they burned clouding her nostrils and making the woman feel too enclosed. She began to sweat beneath her cloak, which she’d refused to remove in the hopes that she would not be within the confines of these walls for very long.

Her eyes wandered those gathered. One Dunmer. Two Altmer. An Imperial. A Nord. And two Argonians.
These held her attention the longest; Sindri had never been so close to one of the lizard-folk. Her glances were quick so as to avoid inflicting insult, her eyes noting the bright scales of one, talons of the other. Of course, her mind wandered to the alchemical composition of each, and if she were to gather a shed scale or broken talon, what would come of them.
What did she know about Argonians? Very little, but she had a feeling there was something of their make-up that would prove interesting.

Sindri’s attention went to the Nord next, her pale gaze wandering his robes, though before she could build a single thought, the hairs on the back of her neck rose and Sindri shifted her weight from one foot to the other just as the chapel doors swung open.
Her skin crawled as if a handful of spiders were fleeing for cover across her skin as Sindri took note of the giant khajiit that ducked through the threshold. Her attention lingered on him as he strolled in under heavy guard. Wounded guard, Sindri noted, the metallic stink of blood was faint but present amidst an onslaught of other scents.

Sindir rubbed her hands together, then pulled the cowl of her cloak over her mouth a nose.

The large beast spoke, insisting on compliance while mentioning having thrown a horse, and Sindri’s left eyebrow rose.The guard left, and the khajiit offered a fanged smile that could have chilled the blood of lesser folk.The size of his teeth made Sindir wrinkle her nose as she turned to face the chapel speaker.

The woman spoke, setting before them their purpose. Sindri’s eyes wandered again, taking in the expressions and reactions. It was doubtful that any of them arrived here without at least an inkling of why they’d been recruited. The heavier details, of course, would have been left out until they were gathered here under the cover of darkness.
Through the day, Sindri had loitered unceremoniously in the cemetery behind the chapel, enjoying the breeze, the sun’s warmth, and the view of passers-by. When the sun had set, she’d moved down the road for a clear view of the chapel, watching those who entered for clues.
Chorrol was a Colovian town, which made it quite easy to pick out which pedestrians were not local. Like herself. Sindir had watched until at least half a dozen of those whom she assumed to be the recruited had slunk in through the chapel doors before she’d gathered her things and followed.
Tolerating the unease of having such a roof over her head, Sindri focused on the instructions, warning, and stipulations that came with their accepting the job.
As well as the offer of a blessing of Talos.

Sindri took a half step back away from the woman, offering a curt shake of her head in declination.

“Is this a requirement?” She began, her eyes on the robed woman. “That these provinces must worship Talos in order to be accepted into the Empire? Not all of those within the . . . embrace of the Empire accept Talos. Those to whom we will speak do not. I know without doubt that not all of those within this building choose to do so. Or do you simply add it because you have chosen to worship as such?”

Meen-La
Location: Weynon Priory

---

Honestly, she had no problem with what was happening. Her only regret was not dying in glorious battle and returning to the Hist or whatever those back home in Blackmarsh thought. The guards that had been used to escort her had long since unbound her shackles and left her with her gear. She had to wonder if they were naive or just that confident. Better for her, either way. She could just smash her way out, of that she had no doubt, but at the same time. A pardon, for her crimes? A more tempting offer than some may believe...but for now, Meen-La stayed quiet, eyes hidden behind her helmet as she'd observe those gathered, only half listening to whatever this holy woman was saying.

Her eyes, of course, were immediately drawn to the lukiul, dressed in what was obviously legionnaire armor. He wasn't sent to keep an eye on her was he? Didn't recall his face, either, so probably noone with a grudge. So just a normal legionnaire? She couldn't fathom the lukiul more than they could likely fathom the swamps back home. The others gathered didn't seem special or interesting in any way, truthfully. Except the Breton looking woman. Something about her intuition said that she might be fun to take in a duel despite the way she looked.

This opinion only changed when an...incredibly well built Khajiit was brought into the priory, being manhandled by guards no less.

"Hah." She couldn't help but to let out an audible chuckle at the sight. A Cathay-Raht. Not the first time shes seen one, but the first time she's seen one outside of Elsweyr. Maybe this group would have someone fun in it after all. Still, might as well get this underway. They were all to be allies for various reasons, and she was in no position to argue.

"Confessor," She would step a bit closer to the group, having mostly stayed off to the side as she observed. "I too, will take the blessing, if your Talos is willing." She would turn her head towards the Breton, the feathers on her headpiece swishing as she did so. "Forgive me for intruding, but that does not seem to matter. We will be mere escorts and whatever happens otherwise is none of our business. Is that correct, Confessor?"

---

When Arnvidr was approached by agents from the Blades, recruiting him to be part of a secret division referred to as 'Hidden Militia' he was sceptical. After all, ever since the Oblivion Crisis, the Empire under the Mede Dynasty had been far too preoccupied with inner Cyrodiil matters to care about the provinces, let alone the threat brewing to the South in the Aldmeri Dominion. They had grown too complacent, thinking of themselves to still be the Septim Empire with its dominance over Tamriel, even when—if you look at history—the Septim Empire had already been in decline ever since the Imperial Simulacrum. One would have thought that the Umbriel Crisis would have been the wake-up call for the Empire to get their act together, but it turned out they became even more entrenched in inner Cyrodiilic politics instead of paying attention to what has been happening in the rest of the world.

Which was why, when he was given the basic outline of what the Hidden Militia sought to do, he was pleasantly surprised. It was a proactive approach to start strengthening and consolidating power—which, Arnvidr suspects was done in anticipation of a possible war against the Dominion—he might not agree with all the Empire had done since then, but a more proactive stance that concerned itself with matters outside of Cyrodiil was a promising start.

He had his issues with the Empire, even now, but if it was between the Empire and the Aldmeri Dominion, he would have picked the Empire every time. And at present, the Empire was the bulwark they needed against the predation of the Aldmeri Dominion. His ideal scenario would be of an independent Skyrim, returned to its glory days, but the current Skyrim was so far removed from their actual culture. They were nought but Colovian Cyrodiilic with a superficial Nord coat of paint. They had nothing that made the Nords and the Imperial great and all of their worst aspects. In short, Skyrim as it was, was nowhere ready for the Aldmeri Dominion on its own.

Therefore, he made the decision to join the Hidden Militia and support the Empire, despite his misgivings of the Empire.

He was rather surprised that their first meeting took place in a priory, however. He supposed the Alessian Nine Divines was the state religion of the Empire, but he wasn't quite sure why a Confessor of the Alessian Church would be this involved.

Nevertheless, as the woman offered to bestow the blessing of Talos, Arnvidr shrugged, before replying, "I do not worship Talos as a Divine, but I will take the help offered."

Indeed, he had no qualms about doing so. Unlike most in the Alessian Church that would have seen the Nordic Pantheon, he worshipped as 'heathen worship' his view was more nuanced. In the first place, most of the Nine Divines Priests were Restoration mages, using spells that were named after the Divines. But even were this one was one of the rare anomalies, Talos had its place even in the Nordic Pantheon, as one of the many aspects of Ysmir, such as Wulfharth and Pelinal. Traditionally, even as recent as the end of the Third Era, these aspects of Ysmirs had been venerated in the many hero cults of the Nords, though not as Ysmir himself. It was in the past 200 years since the Oblivion Crisis that due to cultural assimilation, the Nordic Pantheon had been completely eroded and replaced by the Nine Divines, with many Nords confusing Talos for Ysmir. But he digressed, the point was even in the Nordic Pantheon, Talos had its place, so he did not mind receiving a blessing from Talos.

Sylruna Velaryn

Sylruna watched the proceedings with quiet interest, her crimson eyes taking in each detail of the unusual gathering. The candlelight from the chapel's altar cast dancing shadows across the stone walls, reminding her of the flickering flames she so often wielded. She adjusted her midnight blue robes, grateful for their familiar comfort in this tense atmosphere.

The arrival of the massive Khajiit had certainly livened things up. Sylruna couldn't help but feel a mix of amusement and concern at his dramatic entrance - though she kept her expression neutral, years of diplomatic training helping her maintain composure. Still, her lips twitched slightly at his negotiation for jerky. It was refreshing to see someone so... straightforward.

The Reachwoman's question about Talos worship caught her attention. As a Dunmer who had grown up with both the Tribunal teachings and Imperial customs, Sylruna understood the complexity of forcing religious change on proud peoples. She stepped forward slightly, the runes on her robes catching the candlelight.

"If I may," she said, her voice soft but carrying clearly in the chapel's acoustics, "I believe I understand the Confessor's offer as just that - an offer, not a requirement." She inclined her head respectfully to both the Confessor and the Reachwoman. "As someone who comes from a people with our own strong religious traditions, I appreciate the sensitivity of this matter. Perhaps this is why some of us have been chosen for this task - to help bridge these cultural gaps?"

She glanced around at the diverse gathering - Argonians, Khajiit, Nord, Imperials, and others - before continuing. "My people's history with the Empire hasn't always been smooth, but we've learned to coexist while maintaining our traditions. Maybe our experiences could help ease these transitions?"

Sylruna's hand unconsciously moved to adjust her braids, a habit when she was thinking deeply. "Though I must admit," she added with a hint of her characteristic gentle humor, "I hadn't expected my first diplomatic assignment to begin in quite such an... eventful manner." Her eyes flickered briefly to the departing guards who had wrestled with the Khajiit.

She turned her attention back to the Confessor, her expression becoming more serious. "Regarding the situation in Bruma - I'm familiar with the city's Nordic population. Their pride runs deep, and they're unlikely to welcome change easily. Perhaps we should discuss strategies for maintaining discretion while moving through the city? I'd rather avoid any riots if possible."

"Kiffar will take the green woman's blessing. The Empire is good work, for stray kitties, hm?"

The newcomer Khajiit and his escorts were certainly out of the ordinary. As if this Hidden Militia could be any more odd bunch. Alexios tried to maintain a passive composure, but a slight smirk tugged at the corner of his maw. He then listened as the Dark Elf in the group spoke and outlined her thoughts on the situation, citing her experience of Morrowind. Alexios nodded thoughtfully, but said nothing.

"Regarding the situation in Bruma - I'm familiar with the city's Nordic population. Their pride runs deep, and they're unlikely to welcome change easily. Perhaps we should discuss strategies for maintaining discretion while moving through the city? I'd rather avoid any riots if possible."

Alexios cleared his throat and took a step forward.
'If I may,' he finally began, his voice bearing a deepness many officers in the Legion possessed, 'The Legion won't want any riots to occur if we can help it. Might I suggest that I request reinforcements from Fort Pale Pass? Give the mayor and the Nords something else to focus on while you act, and in the worst case the rioting can be contained.' Alexios offered his suggestion. Bruma wasn't his concern so much as his charges as assigned by his superiors, but he knew they would not appreciate anarchy.

Sylruna Velaryn

Sylruna turned toward the Legion officer, studying him thoughtfully. His suggestion had merit, though she could see potential complications. Her time dealing with proud populations had taught her that sometimes a show of force could inflame tensions rather than calm them.

"A practical suggestion," she said diplomatically, offering a respectful nod to Alexios. "Though I wonder if such a visible military presence might not draw more attention to our activities?" She absently traced one of the glowing runes on her sleeve as she considered the implications. "The sight of additional Legion forces might make the locals wonder what's important enough to warrant such protection."

She glanced around the candlelit chapel before continuing, her tone gentle but focused. "Perhaps we could combine your approach with something more subtle? The Legion's presence could serve as a visible distraction, while some of us..." she gestured to herself and then vaguely to the others gathered, "...work more discreetly to ensure the delegates' safety? My experience with illusion magic could help us move through the city unnoticed, if needed."

Her crimson eyes flickered with a hint of curiosity as she regarded the officer. "You seem familiar with Bruma's defenses. What's your assessment of the most discrete routes through the city? I've spent some time there, but a Legion perspective would be invaluable."

"A practical suggestion, though I wonder if such a visible military presence might not draw more attention to our activities? The sight of additional Legion forces might make the locals wonder what's important enough to warrant such protection."

Alexios held a slight frown, though he appreciated the diplomatic tact of the Dark Elf. "What do you suggest, then?'

"Perhaps we could combine your approach with something more subtle? The Legion's presence could serve as a visible distraction, while some of us... Work more discreetly to ensure the delegates' safety? My experience with illusion magic could help us move through the city unnoticed, if needed."

Alexios listened as he rested his free hand on the hilt of his sword. He was much inclined to agree; as it was one of his first thoughts.
'I could approach the mayor on behalf of the Legion, say there's intel on remnants of the Mythic Dawn still hiding in the region,' he pondered aloud, 'that would perhaps justify the active Legion presence in County Bruma.'

"You seem familiar with Bruma's defenses. What's your assessment of the most discrete routes through the city? I've spent some time there, but a Legion perspective would be invaluable."

The Legionary took pause to consider Bruma in his mind's eye. Already he could see the frosty reception of the Nord populace.
'The city still remains vigilant of strangers, ever since the Oblivion Crisis. If you enter officially, you can expect to be scrutinised and noted down in the records,' Alexios explained, bringing his free hand up to idly stroke his chin, 'There were caverns that ran beneath the city, but they were sealed up for security. The only way in is through the gates.'

Alexios then looked down at his helm and had a thought. 'Perhaps we could use both a distraction and disguise,' Alexios added, 'I could requisition Legion gear, and your group can pose as part of the efforts to secure the city.'

---

---

Weynon Priory - Chorrol, Cyrodiil

So an Argonian, a Nord and a Dunmer walk into a priory... It felt like the beginning of a poor joke taught to first-years at the Bard's College and she was idly considering her own part of this slowly escalating mess that her brother had talked her into. Yashar had of course pitched it as something far nobler, of the needs of the Empire and all its citizens. Being a devout adherent to the Nine, it was becoming obvious as to why he himself had become involved in this hidden militia. It was true that the Dominion was an existential threat to the Empire, that much was clear to anyone who was capable or interested in looking beyond their own small part of Tamriel. Less so was the enthusiasm that the Dominion had for ensuring that only the correct gods were worshipped. She scanned across the gathered members, carefully considering what she could discern of them without approaching directly.

The Argonian in Legion gear was the least subtle of their number, and a curiousity at least for her. She had met few Argonians in her travels, and while they very much should not be considered the standard, still this one struck her as a bit off compared to the notions she previously held. But he was polite, disciplined and brought friends. Very well armed and similarly disciplined friends. This showed at the very least that whoever organized this had expectations of some trouble down the road at some point, as much was explained by the "confessor". Then another Argonian arrived, this time in chains and while she did not protest openly, Khaliya had the feeling that she would have rather been anywhere else. That also went inline with the Confessor's words, that some of them were not entirely here by sincere choice. Not like it was any of her business if some of the members of this expedition liked to put their hands or swords where they were unwelcome, so long as they respected her and her belongings.

A Dunmer woman and a Nord were the next to draw her eyes, the former seeming to be an effort at ensuring some cultural understanding could be found between the Empire and the potential new provinces. Few understood being outsiders of faith and culture as much as the Dunmer, from her understanding. That would at least bode well towards their negotiations, and more so as she listened to the woman speak her mind. The Nord was rather surprisingly taciturn for one of his people, at least from what she knew of them. Most Nords she had run across had been boastful, boisterous and rather loud and violent. This one though, she quietly considered if he was not quite the bruiser that most of his kind were, taking in his bearing and trying to get a read on him.

And then of course, came the cat. By the shining bitch's cold tits, that was the biggest Khajiit she had ever seen, and he seemed every bit the size of one who could have overshadowed her sister Roshanara. She didn't even know they could get that big, much less how a Khajiit could get that big. What did they feed him down in Elsweyr? Smaller, weaker Khajiit? Then she noticed the shackles, the bruises across the guardsmen attempting to guide the big furry ball of muscle into the priory. Now that was something she was more familiar with, and more so as he roughed up the guards a little more and helped himself to a bit of jerky. Someone straightforward, honest and very clearly capable of extreme violence at a moment's notice. She would just need to stick close to that one and be honest when speaking to him. Maybe use small words...

Finally, she came upon the Reachman. There was no mistaking what she was, not for a Breton, a Nord and by far not an Imperial. Khaliya knew a denizen of the Reach from both personal experience and that of her tribe. It was just a way they had about them, and while her tribe was on good relations with a few clans to the point of even claiming kinbonds, there were just as many if not more who still held a grudge over the death of Sharuk The Seven-Handed and his clan. She tried to discern if the woman had any identifiable markings, but her place in the priory made that difficult, and she gave up on the understanding that it was unlikely that particular grudge would be settled this day or at least on this expedition.

"With respect, I have the guidance of my ancestors." She said at last, gathering up her pack and adjusting the leather traveling clothes currently keeping her modest, if not well armored. Another glance around and it seemed clear that at least from first look she was the only one not openly armed, looking more like a provisioner or non-combatant and that was fine with her. If needs be, she would do her part but she was more comfortable with lending her assistance towards more diplomatic and constructive means.

"Forgive me for intruding, but that does not seem to matter. We will be mere escorts and whatever happens otherwise is none of our business. Is that correct, Confessor?"

Sindir’s head turned toward the Argonian, her annoyance over this talk of the Nine so-called-Divines momentarily diminished over her interest in the speaker. The lizard’s words sunk in a second later, and Sindri couldn’t help but accept them.

It is our hope that with the embrace of the Wrothgar Mountains and Orsinium, plus The Reach and its silver and soldiers, they will one day see Talos' light. The chapel woman had said. A hope, not a requirement, although Sindri still felt as if it were hypocritical to guide anyone toward this end when they were not believers, themselves.

Even the present Nord refused Talos, even if he accepted the offer. Sindri’s head swiveled toward him. That was interesting. Her countenance remained blank as she took in the details of this strange Nord for only the pace of a few heartbeats before she turned and looked back to the chapel woman.
Sindri leveled her cold gaze at the woman, as if daring her to express that this business with their chosen Gods be the Gods of all involved. Considering the number of their gathered party who refused her blessing, hopefully she would realize her work was cut out for her.

The other Argonian, the one dressed in Imperial garb, began to speak to the single Dunmer, discussing how to get through to Bruma without drawing so much attention. From drawing reinforcements in Imperial numbers to using magic to hide them.
Down to dressing up as Legion soldiers to blend in.

“Honestly,” Sindir interjected with a tsk, gesturing to the many figures present. ”I quite doubt they’d have gone through the trouble of selecting a group such as this if they wanted us to appear to be forge-mold soldiers marching through a city. Look at us. Mer, Nord, Argonian, and a Khajiit the size of a giant. We’re not blending into anything. I suggest we use that."

Sindri jerked her chin toward the Legion Argonian. ”We’ll be questioned and put on record for having entered the city. Then perhaps only some of us enter the city, or we produce a cover for our entry. A lie about why we are there that would be believed. Having been in and out of Bruma, I know they do not refuse those with a reliable reason for entry. We give them one. Surely we can collectively come up with something. Or we can use him.” Sindri added, gesturing to the large cat.

Sylruna Velaryn

Sylruna listened intently to the various suggestions, her crimson eyes thoughtful as she considered each perspective. The Legion officer's suggestion about using the Mythic Dawn as a cover brought a slight smile to her face - it was clever, playing on old fears that still lingered in Bruma's collective memory.

She turned toward Sindri, nodding in agreement. "You make an excellent point about our... distinctive appearance," she said, her tone carrying a hint of gentle amusement as she glanced at their diverse gathering. "Perhaps instead of trying to hide what we are, we could use it to our advantage." She paused, her silver-white braids catching the candlelight as she turned back to Alexios.

"What if we combined both approaches?" she suggested, her diplomatic training showing in how she tried to weave together the different ideas. "The Legion presence could be investigating the Mythic Dawn rumors, as you suggested, while we..." she gestured to their unusual group, "...could present ourselves as something that would naturally draw attention away from the real delegation."

Her eyes sparkled with sudden inspiration. "A merchant caravan, perhaps? It would explain our diverse backgrounds - after all, who would question a Dunmer mage providing protective services, or..." she glanced respectfully toward Kiffar, "...a powerful Khajiit guard protecting valuable goods? Trade caravans often employ all manner of protection, and Bruma sees plenty of merchant traffic."

She noticed Khaliya's assessment of their group and appreciated the woman's careful observations. It reminded her that they needed to consider not just their cover story, but how they would work together. "And speaking of protection," she added, her voice softening, "we should perhaps discuss how to coordinate our various... talents. Some of us are more suited to direct approaches," she nodded toward the more martial members of their group, "while others might be better positioned to handle things more... discreetly."

She absently adjusted one of the runes on her robes, her expression becoming more serious. "Whatever we decide, we'll need to trust each other. Bruma's people are observant - they'll notice if we're not convincing in our roles."

Meen-La
Location: Weynon Priory

---

Meen-La, was so far, utterly unimpressed with the way these members of the Secrent Militia were behaving. Problem one - they hadn't even introduced themselves yet! Problem two, they were already discussing plans without a full scope of information on what they were doing. How many people they would be escorting, the scope of their supposed enemies. What to expect if things do go south. She would have expected the Legionnaire to at least take such considerations into his purview but it seemed as though she had thought much too highly of them.

Should be expected, she supposed. They couldn't catch her for ten years right in their own backyard.

Problem three, their so called plan was a pile of Wamasu Dung in her professional opinion.

"Mythic Dawn Remnants, reinforcements...do you want us to stick out like a Swamp Jelly in Elsweyr, lukiul?" She would turn her head towards the rest of those gathered. "I apologize for the harshness of my tone, my Kin, but as that one," She would lightly tilt her head in the direction of Sylruna. "People will need convincing, but a story built on nothing but lies will fall under the faintest of scrutiny. Do we have the means of appearing as merchants? Something like that can be investigated and found false very quickly? If they are already suspicious they will already likely be investigating us the moment we step into the city." Her voice took a slightly more playful tone as the edges of her lips curved into a small smile.

"Also, do we really have the luxury of spinning such plans when we hardly even know one another? So allow me to be the first. I am Meen-La. I'm sure some of you have heard of me, especially you, my lukiul Kin. She flashed the argonian Legionnaire a toothy grin. While I think planning things now when we do not have the full scope of information yet, If you'll allow me a moment to interject with this plan of yours, I would suggest something much simpler, more effective, and less open to scrutiny. Meen-La stood straight, gesturing with her hands as she spoke. "Our goals are two fold. Not only take care of the bandits, but also get into Bruma without trouble to escort these delegates, yes? So we split into two teams. I take a few of you with me and we go deal with the bandits in the area. The others go to Bruma...under the guise of hunting a recently escaped Criminal from the Imperial Dungeon. A certain Lizard known for being rather brutal - Me. Meen-La. You have intel that is where she ran, and you are looking for clues of her nearby. The Nords in the region will find less fault with such a plan, especially if you take Kiffar and one or two of our more combat capable friends."

Auron Falareth stood at the back of the group, his posture upright, arms crossed loosely over his chest. He had been listening intently, to Confessor Elessenia as she spoke.

The mission was clear enough: protect the delegates, navigate the treacherous road to Bruma, and prevent chaos from engulfing their efforts. But the notion of receiving a blessing from Talos made him uneasy. Auron’s past dealings with the Dominion, where the deification of a mortal was viewed as heresy, weighed heavily on his mind. Even here in the chapel, he still couldn’t get over the Thalmor’s ruthlessness in enforcing their ideology.

When Elessenia opened the floor for questions, he allowed the others to ask their questions, then stepped forward. He bowed his head slightly, a gesture of respect that still carried the elegance of his upbringing.

“Confessor,” he said calmly, “I understand the importance of this mission and the blessings you offer. However, I must ask, should we encounter resistance in Bruma, especially from those who may rally against us, how far are we permitted to go? Are we to prioritize diplomacy, or are we to use force if things escalate?”

He paused, letting the question linger before adding, “And should we accept this blessing, will it… mark us in any way? Some among us may not wish to draw attention to our affiliations.”

Weynon Priory, West of Chorrol



"There will be no physical marks from the Blessing of Talos, good Altmer," Confessor Esselenia said to Auron, before continuing, "But those experienced in Magic may detect the blessing through arcane means, and thus, those worried about that will be allowed to opt out of the offer; it is completely optional. I also advise diplomacy first if the Nordic population of Bruma attempts any chaos; we are not the Thalmor. Now, as for the other questions from the group..."

On the subject of the new provinces having to worship Talos, the Confessor said, "Outwardly, there will need to be Talos Shrines and Temples in the new provinces, however, there are plans for treaties like in Morrowind, where allowances are made for local customs. We will not 'make windows into people's souls', but we will expect Talos to be honored; how else will the other provinces accept being carved up to allow for the existence of two more?"

Meen-la, meanwhile, surprised this Clergywoman the most, and pleasantly at that, and with a smile, she affirmed her plan with the words, "Good. We were prepared to spend enough septims for a caravan and trade goods, but you saved us that expense. It seems we can rely on you as much as we can rely on the rest of the group - We respect someone of your subtlety."

She did not know what to say to Kiffar except that she was glad he would accept the Blessing of Talos, same for Arnvdir and Meen-la, while Sylruna had not committed to anything yet, she noticed.

Lifting up her hands in benediction, a soft purple light began to settle down on those who had accepted the Blessing - Arnvdir could sense that this was not Restoration Magic, but something more.

Her next words were to Auron once more, "Dissident and Exile, he who left behind the life he knew to follow what is right; you have shown courage in coming to us; this will serve you well."

Back to the others, the Confessor said, "You are all to rest for a while after this; we will bring food, supplies, and a downpayment of septims before your departure; it is agreed that the best time to depart is at the break of dawn; five hours or so."

@Carantathraiel@Lunamaria Hawke@Alfhedil@Raqueltrper@Crimson Flame@Randomguy@Andre Valias@WSilversun@Rune_Alchemist

Alexios listened to the various responses: from the Reachwoman saying nobody would believe their cover story, the Dark Elf suggesting a combined approach where the Militia posed as a merchant caravan, to the other Argonian also saying they would stick out like a 'swamp jelly in Elsweyr' before calling him a 'lukiul'. Whatever that meant.

Alexios put on his helmet and folded his arms, now regretting that he bothered to offer his suggestion. 'Right. Well, in the Elder Council's infinite wisdom, you lot were chosen and I am only making do with what Akatosh has given me.' The Argonian subsequently apologised for her harsh tone, to which Alexios inclined his head. However, Alexios said nothing to her comments on the Dark Elf's newest suggestion, as it was she who suggested the merchant caravan story to begin with.

The Argonian continued: she introduced herself as Meen-La, then looked to Alexios when remarking on her own notoriety. He shrugged.
'I must have missed the Legion-wide memo with your name on it, my apologies,' he replied. She then brushed over his comment and proposed a new two-pronged approach: kill the bandits, tell the populace there's a hunt for the would-be bandit-killer bandit. Alexios mulled it over; it was a sensible approach. 'I'll take my squad to Bruma then, turn up the streets thoroughly for this brutal lizard Meen-La.'

The High Elf of the group stepped forward and asked if there was a preference to diplomacy or force, to which the Confessor advocated for diplomacy. The High Elf's concerns were merited, which made Alexios all the more committed to writing his message to Fort Pale Pass. Already his opinion of this 'Hidden Militia' was not high. He can appreciate units of irregulars as much as any other officer or commander in the Legion; military history mentions more than a few groups with odd talents that have changed the odds in any struggle. But this group had only adventurers and outlaws of all stripes; there was nothing yet for Alexios to regard as a good-omen for their mission.

When the Confessor gave them leave, Alexios waited and listened to see what the Militia decided to do.

---

"There will be no physical marks from the Blessing of Talos, good Altmer," Confessor Esselenia said to Auron, before continuing, "But those experienced in Magic may detect the blessing through arcane means, and thus, those worried about that will be allowed to opt out of the offer; it is completely optional. I also advise diplomacy first if the Nordic population of Bruma attempts any chaos; we are not the Thalmor. Now, as for the other questions from the group..."

As one of the more arcanely inclined of the group, Arnvidr turned to the rest, then spoke with a reassuring tone, "It should be all right. It is not as if the magical effect given by this blessing is an illegal one, like, say, levitation. Fortifying one's physical capability is a perfectly common effect of the Restoration School. Even if someone were to somehow figure out that it came from a priestess, most priests of the Nine Divines are Restoration Mages, in any case. There shouldn't be any issue on that front."

The Confessor then left the group to their own devices, after giving a final benediction to the Altmer. Dissident and exile, she said...a survivor or perhaps a descendant of those from the Night of Green Fire? He looks young enough, but then again, he was an Altmer. Though Arnvidr supposed that was neither here nor there for the moment.

"Our group is going to draw attention, one way or another, with how eclectic our members are. I agree with Miss Velaryn that we ought to lean into our distinctive appearance. But not as a caravan, none of us carry enough goods to make it believable that we are traders. Rather, why don't the rest of you pass yourself as a band of mercenaries hired by myself? I am somewhat known, especially to Nords, as an academic of sorts thanks to my book. I've hired mercenaries to help me research Nordic ruins in Skyrim before, we'll say that my new research is on Ayleid Ruins, there are a couple of prominent ones around Bruma."

Kiffar had remained, for the mostpart, quite silent after his arrival- Patiently waiting, head bowed, for the blessing he was to receive. He was not a particularly religious sort, but it seemed the way these things were done, and holy people deserved at the least an attempt at civility and respect from him. It also served to let him listen, ears flicking this way and that as each voice aired ideas, or criticized the ideas of another. All of it sounded like a great deal of cactus husk to him- But then, the ideas of thinkers often did. Once the blessing was given in full, he rose to his full height once again, an appreciative nod offered to the Confessor before he turned to the others.
The vast feline prowled through the group, one claw extended to none-too-gently prod Alexios' armored chest on his way past. He flopped with all the grace of a tired cat onto one of the pews, wood groaning under his weight, though it held. For now.

"That one... Thinks ill of us. Kiffar thinks that one is wise. We chitter like kittens for fancy ideas. The task we are given is simple, no? We escort the talkers and the thinkers, we kill the plotters and the schemers. Kiffar has found in life that if a problem cannot be solved by fighting or by fucking, then it is not a problem for Kiffar to solve. We meet the talkers and the thinkers in this Bruma. We walk with them. We kill things that try to kill them. We get much coin to line our pockets, and food to line our bellies. Simple, yes? Leave the scheming and the plotting for the people we will kill. Schemers and plotters always fail to remember that they can be killed."

He stretched out upon the pew he had claimed, yawning massively- A brief, terrifying impression of just how wide those jaws could spread- before he melted into his place of rest in the way of cats big and small, draped over hard edges as if they were the most comfortable of cushions. Eyes like ice never closed, however, flitting from person to person among their mismatched group.

"But perhaps Kiffar is too simple for saying so. This one leaves the thinking to thinkers- He wishes only that the thinkers would not argue so much, when we have been given many hours for the napping. He also thinks it is impolite, not to introduce one's self, after another gives their name. The Meen-La has given hers. Kiffar has given his. Who are these other thinkers?"