[B]Fuck it, we're doing it live: Collab edition ft. Dr. Dervs, M.C. Witty, and Biggie Psyker[/B]

[I]16 Rain's Hand, North of Rihad...[/I]

Whether the stable hand was a collaborator or another citizen of Rihad reported the odd trio, Marassa, Hralvar, and Cub did not have much breathing room before being forced to vacate the road and take a chance in losing themselves in the woods to throw off pursuers. The plan had went off without a hitch; Marassa obtained the maps, Hralvar picked up supplies, and Cub had the horses ready for his companions by the time they arrived. Half an hour after they left the gates and were beginning to pass Chougand with the forged documentation provided by the dwemer, the three had only noticed by chance pursuers behind them, a group of horsemen galloping behind them. After what had been a contender for world's shortest argument, Marassa led her companions in a hard gallop into the forests north of the small town, thoroughly losing themselves in the thick brush. Fortunately, if their pursuers had followed them in, they were equally lost. The khajiit allowed herself a moment to relax, drinking from her water skin and pulled out the map, for what good it did in an unmarked forest. "We should try to exit the forest in a different place than we went in, our pursuers are likely staking it out for us. I'd rather not meet them." she said, her white and brown spotted horse snorting as if in agreement before it decided to munch on some leaves from a low hanging branch. She looked around to try and find her bearings, feeling the weight of her armour return as the feather spell slowly wore off, much to the horse's displeasure. The normally docile beast had its world turned upside down, running faster than it had in weeks and being ridden by someone in full armour, something decidedly uncomfortable for a creature that wasn't a trained warhorse. Still, it could have been worse as Cub illustrated, desperately tugging the ratty ends of his once regal travel cloak from the jaws of his impertinent mule.

Considering their escape and disorientation, there was one course of action that made sense; taking a quick break. Fortunately, Marassa's sensitive ears picked something up that was at once encouraging and irresistible; a stream. She told the others as much, dismounting her horse and taking its reigns, delighting in the opportunity to stretch her legs. "Come on, we'll figure ourselves out there." she said, leading her horse down what appeared to be an old game trail.

Marassa moved ahead deeper in to the underbrush, her acute hearing leading to what the others heard not. "Hey, wait! Hold on!" Cub called in frantic hushed tones as he wrestled his cloak from his steed's overbite, careful not to alert their pursuers to their location. The thought of simply prying the beast of burden's mouth open crossed the Orc's mind more than once but each time he batted it back down. No sense in maiming the damn thing when they still had far to go! No, instead Cub simply trudged forward behind Marassa, tethered to his new equine accessory as a human(ish) lead.

"I'm gonna name you Shavie. You didn't know him, or maybe you did, I don't know. He was a Scaly who made music and talked to the dead. I left him in a dungeon once. We didn't talk much after that." Cub spoke in hushed tones to the mule though his words were met only with apathetic eyes and munching sounds. "I wonder if Shavie died, could he talk to the living? Does it work both ways? What if Shavie is here right now but we can't see him! What if..."Cub eyed the mule suspiciously. "Shavie? Did you come back as a mule? Are you eating my cloak because I left you in the Palace of Kings?" Again the mule continued munching. "No, that's crazy." Cub smiled to himself for such a silly thought. Then he proceeded to walk more quickly away from the mule. Just in case.

The khajiit ducked to avoid a branch. "I rather hope Shavi is still around, somewhere. Considering he was a necromancer and a conqueror, he definitely seemed better adjusted than Gorzath and a lot more easy to relate to. Zaveed liked him, too. If he did pass on, I have no doubt he'd figure out how to return from Oblivion to talk to the living." she paused. "It's happened before, I believe. But I don't think he's here now, Cub. He'd say something." Marassa said, not really sure if she believed any of that, but it was easier to humour Cub than to debate philosophical things. She did, however, hope Shavi was still alive. How was he handling the invasion?

Before long, the group came to a small clearing, and a fairly large stream, which came something of a relief. It was a chance to refill water skins and water the horses. She looked around at the brush, scanning from anything that looked amiss. Predators sometimes lurked by sources of water, especially in hot climates, waiting for unwary prey to stumble into their reach. The khajiit listened intently, sniffing periodically, noticing only the familiar scent of her companions and the horses. "I think we're clear." she said, leading her horse to the fast flowing, clear water. There must have been a spring upstream, as was common in mountainous regions. As the mare dipped her long head down to drink, Marassa stroked the animal's neck, eyes still cautiously darting around. Something felt off, like things were far too quiet. Outside of the ever-buzzing sounds of insect life, there seemed to be something missing, but what?

"Yeah, but what if he can't say anything because he's a mule? Or because his mouth is full of my godsda-" Cub was cut short by the sudden suspicion the Khajiit showed. Was it something he'd said? Was talking about Shavie like talking about Sevari? How much had he'd missed not paying attention in Rihad? "Listen, maybe it's not Sha..not you-know-who. I just meant maybe if you-know-who was a you-know-what he might come back as a who-knows-what. You know? I didn't mea-" Again Cub was cut short, this time by the sharp snap of a twig as Hravlar lowered himself gruffly from his steed.

"You feel it too?" Hralvar shifted inside his cloak, scowling as he whispered to Marassa. He'd noticed her looking around suspiciously and had come to the same conclusion she had: something was definitely off. This was a bloody forest, so where in Oblivion was the wildlife? No birds chirping, no frogs yammering about, nothing. But then again, Marassa didn't tell them that anything was off when she sniffed around. Surely she would have smelled out any nearby predators or bandits, and the only other plausible scenario was that the dwemer sent in those damned steam machines they kept around their ruins. Although that didn't fit either, given that those metal contraptions were hilariously noisy, and they would have heard the things coming from a mile away. "Smell anything around, lass, or have I finally gone senile?" The old Nord asked quietly, one hand reaching down to his sword while hiding his other, magicka-charged hand inside his cloak.

"Your mind isn't fleeting yet, Nord. Something, or someone, is here." Marassa said back, hand reaching back to grasp the grip of her sword. The khajiit breathed evenly, deeply, as she studied the trees across the stream. "But where..." she pondered.

Cub hadn't noticed how heavy the air hung, too busy trying not to be eaten by a scorned mule-gonian.
The rippling of the stream and the buzzing of insects played an uneasy calm to the lifeless brush.
Maybe this oasis really was haunted. Maybe Shavie really was here...

Cub's mind raced as all three stood at the ready, eyes and ears peering into the growth around them. Suddenly, as if on cue, something moved within the trees. A shape, lithe, eased itself against the green and cast large shadows on the fronds. Bracing themselves, the trio readied themselves as the shadows grew larger and larger as the creature neared, parting the plants in its wake. Finally, the thing emerged from the forest with a bellowing,

"Oh, hello."

The figure emerged from the brush, a lithe but sturdy looking Redguard woman in practical scaled armour who walked as if she were well accustomed to shouldering its weight. She appeared to be around Marassa's age, in her early 20s without a scar to blemish her attractive features. Almond coloured eyes surveyed the group, dark bangs barely above her eyes before being tied back into a single braid along her back. On her hips were sheathed two swords, surprisingly dwemer-made. If there was one thing that was apparent about her, it was that she was dangerous.

"Oh, don't look so shocked, please! Be at ease. I am but a girl on a walk in the forest, I am no threat to you. But please, excuse my manners, I am the Lady Marion. And who might I have the pleasure of acquainting myself with?" she said, her disposition cheerful and friendly. A deception.

"She's not alone." Marassa said to Hralvar beside her. She rose her voice to address the girl. "A girl who approached an armed group of strangers in the wilderness is either a fool or plotting something. If your companions chose not to reveal themselves, and you do not depart, you will force our hand." The khajiit said, ears pulling back as she glared at the Redguard across the water.

"You're not Shavie."

Cub was relieved when the form that stepped forward was neither the vengeful spirit he'd envisioned nor some desert beast seeking refuge in the shade, short lived though it was as Marassa sensed others within the brush. With a sorrowful rip, Cub tore his cloak free from Maybe-Shavie, leaving a large portion clasped between the mule's grinding teeth. Better not to be bound should Woman-Not-Shavie indeed mean trouble. ... Then again maybe she really was just here for the stream. Would it be worth to attack her not knowing? Marassa seemed to suspect danger but he wanted to be strong, not a murderer! The doubt was there. He couldn't prove she WASN'T a traveller anymore than he could prove his mule wasn't an Argonian Necromancer. Or rather, the opposite. A dead person who speaks to the living. Ghost, that was it.

With an exasperated sigh, Cub, as in all times of mental stalemate, asked himself the deciding question. What Would Zhaveed Do?

"Miss, you seem to be, uh, in a rather dense predicament here. Not, not that you're dense, the trees here are dense. And, and so is the situation. I-I'd even say you're in the thick of-the thicket of it now. You should, uh, leave, uh, leav-leaf, leaf! You should leaf before this branches any farther, furth...fern-er."

Nailed it.

Marion shot Cub a gaze that was caught between bewildered bemusement and a tinge of annoyance. "While most girls don't walk through the woods alone, neither do they keep the company of an old man and a mentally crippled orc. Very well, since this encounter is rapidly becoming most unpleasant..." the woman raised her hand, as if to bid the group farewell when out of the brush came a pair of ice spikes and a javelin, visible just long enough for Marassa and the others to avoid impalement. Emerging from the foliage were two of the woman's companions, an almost apologetic-looking argonian in priestly robes who did not appear to be armed and another Redguard man, in similar scaled armour as Marion with a finely trimmed beard, cradling a scimitar and a small, round shield, in his arms. Upon his hip was a quiver, filled with three more javelins. Marion smiled sweetly at the group across the creek. "Although my late-husband Robyn can't be here, he would have liked us to carry on his work in light of this war. Part with your coin, and you can part with your life, or you'll be parting with your heads. Simple enough?" she said.

Marassa spat, sword in hand. A flicker of light covered her armour and her greatsword as she held it at the ready. "Thieves. I've killed for less." she said simply. "It would be in your interests to move along before you do something you won't live to regret."

"Oh, have it your way. Tucks-His-Brow, Nasir, let's lighten their purses, shall we?" she said, drawing her own blades. A familar white shimmer crossed her dwemer arming swords as she advanced with Nasir, who headed right for Cub while Marion headed for Marassa, her feathered weapons a threat. In the back, Tucks cast a rally spell upon his comrades, further increasing their will to fight as well as removing their anxieties. Marassa yelled a battlecry, charging to meet Marion in the creek, both woman's blades clashing above the shin-deep water, the battle joined.

Meanwhile, Hralvar raised his left hand and charged up a bolt of lightning, firing it at the Argonian, who raised a hand of his own to conjure a ward, blocking the electricity. Frowning, the old Nord let the magicka dissipate, charging up more in his hand as he leveled his sword at Tucks-His-Brow, raising an eyebrow at the Argonian's attire.

"Aren't you a priest? Correct me if I'm wrong, lad, but I'm fairly certain none of the Divines condone banditry." Hralvar quipped before letting loose an even more powerful thunderbolt spell at Tucks.

The argonian shot out a pair of clawed hands, absorbing most of the thunderbolt with a rather impressive ward. What little made it through and connected to his body ran down his arms, which he was able to make a good show of ignoring. "And what, I implore you, is a bigger travesty; taking from the mercenaries and rich of the land so those unable to help themselves may live another day, or sitting by and do nothing while a war ravages the provinces, consuming all in its path?" The argonian replied, as if to a spoiled child. Once Hralvar's attack played itself out, green energy enveloped his hands, which Tucks threw towards Hralvar, a Pacification spell. "Now, cease this nonsense. We only wish a charitable donation to help feed and shelter the unable. You will be saving lives." the argonian's voice, while rough like much of his race to non-argonian ears, was oddly soothing.

Thun-Thun Thu Thun.
Thun-Thun Thu Thun.
Thun-Thun Thu Thun.

As the Redguard man made his steady march toward Cub, his body awash in green and near quivering with the Rally spell that rushed over him, he raised his buckler before him and rapped out a small warsong with the broad end of his scimitar.

Cub furrowed his Cro-Magnon brow as the would-be minstrel edged closer. Slipping the Dagger from his gauntlet and his cloak from around him, his dwemer chestpiece shone in the high sun. Nicks and scratches covered its surface mirroring the crimson veins beneath, parting gifts of a flying lizard. The telltale puncture hole above his left breast however had no equal. Indeed it was still completely foreign to Cub as to how the Dwemer staves had made it with no visible magic to speak of. Then again, many things were foreign to Cub these days... Wrapping the Dagger tightly in the cloak, Cub stashed both in one of his steed's saddlebags. "Don't touch that Shavie, I still don't know what it does. And for gods' sake, don't eat it!"

The Redguard man had nearly reached the water's edge, a product of his methodical (Cub might even say melodical) advance and his position further behind the woman. As Cub pulled forth his hammer and prepared to charge the man down, he was startled as the Redguard abruptly ended his song. With a wry grin and a traditional accent he spoke. "Must you be so quick to rush to your death? We've barely even met!" As his last syllable fell, so to did his buckler-ed hand to where his javelins hung at his hip. Firing one quickly forth, Cub was narrowly able to deflect the projectile with his hammer, still not sure how to react to the man.

Trying his damnedest to look nonchalant, Cub called back over the river. "I don't usually stop to chat with my enemies, my hammer does the talk-" Another javelin, this one barely deflected be the head of the hammer, pinging off somewhere in the jungle. "Will you stop that?!"

Nasir let roar a deep laugh as he regarded the large mouse before him. Robyn had always warned him playing with their food had been many a cat's downfall but what had his brother known? Nasir was the one still living after all.

"My friend, for such a large head, you must have a very small brain. Are you not capable of more than one thing at a time then? Truly your lovers must be a sad bunch." With another hearty chuckle, Nasir pointed his curved blade toward Shavie. "Though it appears you saw fit to bring her along anyway!"

With visible frustration, Cub hoisted his hammer and charged the infuriating Redguard ready to shut him up once and for all.

The arming sword was barely dodged as Marassa was forced to lean way from it, Marion pressing the advantage of having two, swift weapons against Marassa's much larger, cumbersome greatsword. While the khajiit dodged one strike, the other struck her armour, although at an angle where the curves directed the blade away from her body. This bought the warrior a chance to buy herself space by driving the pommel of her sword into the Redguard's chest and taking to large steps back, where the length of her sword had the advantage. The two circled each other, searching for an opening. Marassa cast a shield spell on herself, hardening her armour even further. "You're quick, cat. You wouldn't think it to look at you." Marion said, holding her own weapon in a style that favoured parrying. Her wrists began to glow and suddenly, one of her blades was charged with electricity and the other with frost, surprising Marassa. Usually that kind of Alteration spell was typically only done to shields, the mass better able to retain the spell. Marassa prepared for what was coming next.

The woman charged, weapons being used in flourish, their spells acting as blinding distractions. The khajiit was prepared however and swung mightily at the charging Redguard, who had to break off her attack to avoid being cleaved. With a quick thrust of her hand, Marassa released her sword with one hand, launching a magelight into Marion's chest, the blinding orb latching to her armour, unable to distinguish between it and a cave wall. The bandit tried to slash blindly at the khajiit, which resulted in Marassa catching the woman's wrist, casting a burden spell on the woman's gauntlet, suddenly increasing the weight, which was substantial enough to have her arm drop, along with her weapon, throwing the Redguard off balance. Not offering a chance for Marion to recover, she backhanded the woman across the face, striking her fine features with the hard Nordic gauntlets that protected her wrist, sending the woman sprawling into the creek. As the woman tried to right herself and locate her blades, Marassa advanced, sword ready to strike. "Call your goons off if you value your life." she snarled.

Instead of a snarky remark, Marion shot her hand out, launching a fireball that was impossible to dodge at that range, exploding on the khajiit's breastplate and causing her to stagger. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot across her jaw as Marion had launched herself from the water and landed a punch with her weighted hand, using her handicap to an advantage. Her other hand was quickly at Marassa's throat, sending a jolt of electricity into the khajiit's flesh with a shock touch. The pain was excruciating and she found herself unable to breathe, clasping at the wrists at her throat, panic preventing her from casting any spells that could possibly help as the woman forced her to her knees, and back towards the fast-flowing, clear water.

Meanwhile, Hralvar snarled in fury as he tried to resist the calming effects of Tucks' Pacification spell. It would be easy, so, so easy, just to give the bandits and go on the way. And the priestly bandit had a point. But there were bigger things at stake. 

"To Oblivion with you." The old Nord rasped out as he brandished his sword, shaking off the Pacification spell. "You want to help the poor and needy? Those displaced by the war? I'll tell you how." Hralvar scowled as he advanced on Tucks. "You end the damned war. The longer the dwemer are in control of the provinces, the worse things will get. If you're too much of a shortsighted fool to see that you should be taking the fight to the dwemer instead of us, then you don't deserve to live." Hralvar lunged at Tucks, clasping both hands on his blade as he attempted to plunge it into the Argonian's chest.

"You speak as if you think a solitary man and his companions could suppress the whims of an army. I pity you, Nord. Always thinking with the blade instead of the mind. You think we do not take steps to oppose the dwemer, that they're the only blight upon this land?" The argonian scoffed, his hands glowing with a purple-black shroud as a Bound quarterstaff appeared in his hands, catching Hralvar's blade. "Brigands and bandits of all sorts have come down on the innocent just as surely as the dwemer have, and I assure you, we've taken our fair share from the invaders. You're just narcissistic to think you and your ilk are special." he said, knocking Hralvar's sword to the side and following with the momentum of the long quarterstaff, intended to strike the Nord's flank.

Meanwhile, Nasir easily side-stepped Cub's wild charge. The orc didn't seem to be the most clever of foes, but given his impressive size and strength, it was clear to the Redguard that he didn't want to find out how hard he could hit. "I'm over here, you know!" he taunted, laughing at Cub's visible frustration and anger and keeping mobile enough to not get locked down into a situation he'd have to physically deflect one of the orc's savage blows. "I can see you're a busy man, but maybe you should take a minute to consider your lady-friend. I heard cat's don't much like water." Nasir pointed his scimitar towards Marion and Marassa, whose head was forced under the water, he claws digging harmlessly into Marion's bracers as the Redguard forced her back. The khajiit was clearly struggling to break free, her legs kicking feebly against the firmly-planted Redguard woman.

"The way I see it, and I know it's hard for you to think hard about anything, but you've got yourself a choice; you keep fighting, your friend dies, for what? Some pocket coin? Rather anti-climatic for a seasoned warrior such as herself and then you have to live with that up until I open your belly and see how many children you've had for breakfast. Or you and your old-man calm yourselves, and we can get down to conducting business." Nasir said smugly. 

A roar filled the air, coming from the brush.

"Or would you prefer meeting Little John on bad terms?" he asked.

The Orc heaved, his breath catching in his lungs as the nimble Redguard darted about him mockingly. All around the two were splintered logs and crushed saplings, unfortunate victims of the frantic singing pendulum in Cub's hands. The sun sweltered and blazed his green skin beneath his armour, heat and discomfort adding to his frustration at the thrice-damned bastard before him. So eager was Cub to disprove the man's chiding remarks, he shut out the world around him. The river stopped flowing, the insects stopped humming, all that mattered was crushing the insolent prick before he could mouth off one more time.

It was with no small measure of embarrassment then that Cub realized he had played right into his hands. Apart from the spears he hurled, the sunkissed man's barbs were the most damaging; likening Cub to a mindless animal incapable of thought drove him to be just that. He hadn't the fearsome roar from deeper in the oasis until the Loud One had pointed them out. Not until the bastard pointed up stream did he see Marassa struggling beneath the water, electricity coursing dangerously close nearby.

"Hravlar! Enough!" Cub spoke before he thought as he called to the old Nord. This was of course nothing new as Nasir was more than happy to point out but took even himself by surprise. The winded Orc hoisted his hammer and charged toward the female from earlier. His massive form moved sluggishly from his prior exertion but would build up more than enough steam to topple the woman to the water's edge herself. The female Redguard looked toward the sound to see the large warrior barreling toward her. Releasing her grip on the Khajiit, she turned to face the newcomer, blades twirling and surging with energy only to witness the beast collapse a short ways from her.

Cub felt a shooting pain through his leg as he toppled midsprint. The gleaming javelin had found its mark, the knee joint hinge of his armour, and was now protruding from the wound. Jovial laughter accompanied the sound of Cub landing hard upon the ground. "I seem to remember giving you two options and neither of those involved charging my dear Sister-in-Law. Perhaps the high numbers confused you, I do apologize." Nasir strolled casually toward the stream and chuckled again. Cub snarled as he tried to lift himself with the help of his hammer but Nasir merely kicked him from under him. Moving toward Marion's side, he called into the brush. "Tucks, stop playing with the old Nord and see to the fat one here and the cat. We have business to discuss."