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[b][u]Weynon Priory - Chorrol, Cyrodiil[/u][/b]

[color=a1a1a1][i]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 [b]correct[/b] 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 [b]how[/b] 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 [b]Reachman[/b]. 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.[/i][/color]

[color=bc8dbf]"With respect, I have the guidance of my ancestors."[/color] [i][color=a1a1a1]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.[/color][/i]