High General Abasi-Kil
Jadenport (also known as Septimia), Tsaesci Kingdom

---

The sky poured with a furious intensity, water greeted his serpentine body as raindrops descended upon his armor. High General Abasi-Kil stood upon a wooden platform, surveying the Akaviri expeditionary forces. Below him, six Akaviri legions, four Tsaesci, one Tang Mo and another Kamal moved about carrying various equipments to a massive fleet of over one hundred ships. The downpour did not bother them, for years of intensive training taught them that a little storm like this means nothing for the mighty Akaviri Alliance. In fact, the battlemages could probably neutralize this rain. But for some warriors, a downpour before their journey meant the wind goddess Keinaryce had given them her blessing. Abasi was not a overly superstitious man, but he would accommodated religion in case, for it improved morale.

"I see our soldiers are ready to fight," a familiar female voice spoke behind the general, turning around, he bowed slightly to the approaching visitor.

"Of course, you excellency. My men have been waiting for this." The general responded. The snake woman is Esthera-Vash, the potentate of the kingdom. Since the king, Sherian-Doake had fallen ill few months ago, most of administration duties are now her responsibility.

"Abasi, are we still not over all this formality?" the potentate laughed and shook her head. They have grown up together in two of the most prominent noble families, they've always looked after each other in their careers. Esthera was the shrewd diplomat, her honeyed words and political insights was essential in holding together a fragile alliance the king built two centuries ago. Abasi, on the other hand, was the no-nonsense soldier. He knew how to inspire his men, how to outmaneuver his opponents on the battlefield and in the imperial court. But like any other Tsaesci warrior, he preferred to let his katana do all the talking.

"It is always important to show our superior some respect, especially in front of the troops. After all, I want them to treat me the same." the general anwsered, reaching into a pouch attached to his armor, he produced a scroll. "But I assume you want the latest intelligence report, instead of visiting an old friend. Well, the Ka Po Tun mercenaries found that Tamriel is currently in a state of chaos, the perfect moment to strike."

"Excellent," the potentate nodded, she took a second to observe the invasion force, before pointing to two figures not far from them. "You should address their concerns."

The two figures are the Kamal and Tang Mo commanders. They stood toe-to-toe with each other, seemingly arguing over some important issues. The high general sighed in disappointment, knowing the races' long standing hostilities, he had to intervene before the situation spirals out of control.

"I guess this is our farewell Esthera," Abasi slithered forward while saying goodbye to his potentate, his friend. "I will have the battlemages send back a message when we get to Ynslea."

The Tang Mo and the Kamal were now in a heated argument. As the Tsaesci general drew near them, he could hear their squabbles.

"This little monkey here thinks he needs four extra supply ships for..." the Kamal commander paused for a second to greet Abasi before continuing. "...bananas."

Before Abasi had time to responded, the Tang Mo was quick to counter. "With all due respect high general, you know very well that an army marches on its stomach. If my troops do not have our rations, we'd starve to death before reaching Tamriel."

"Please, gentlemen." the Tsaesci general waved. "We're all allies here, wouldn't it be too much to find a compromise? I'll divert two ships for Tang Mo supplies, and the Kamal forces can have the other two." He carefully examined the faces of his commanders, both of whom are still unimpressed. Though he hoped satisfy his allies, at least to some extent, Abasi knew they will get nowhere if they just stood at the port, arguing. Fact was that both men in front of him craved violence, therefore it would serve them well to find a common enemy rather then letting some old rivalry resurface.

"Save your aggressions for our enemies in the west." He motioned for his lieutenant, upon learning that all ships are ready to depart, he turned back to the two commanders. "Anchors aweigh, set sail for Tamriel, let us show these savages our true strength."

King Frithjolf Broken-Shield
City of Daggerfall, Kingdom of Daggerfall

The Council of Kings had been called forth, the fifth meeting since the Forsworn uprisings in Skyrim’s Reach took Frithjolf’s distant cousin from the throne to lead an expedition into Reachman lands to the West of Jehanna. A fool of a man if there ever was one. Frithjolf knew how to fight and knew the value of a well-placed blade, but he also recognized the fruits that could be gained from diplomacy. As he looked about the grand hall he was in, from the multi-colored galaxy of foods filling the room with an all-pervasive smell of grand Breton cuisine, to the men sitting around the table and doing the same as he- sizing up the others. Frithjolf was in a room filled with ambitious men, but he held no love for them, as he knew they were snakes. High Rock was nothing like Skyrim and no matter how much his distant family had ruled Jehanna and made it feel like home, it was not the same.

In Skyrim, personal feuds were settled on the field of battle or a duel was declared. There was no honor to the men arrayed before him. They were all snakes. Serpents and vultures, growing fat off of the strife of High Rock. If he had his way, and had he still been in Skyrim instead of regrettably venturing out to capture his family’s throne in Jehanna, he would challenge each of these men to a duel for their thrones. He’d unite High Rock for the good of the realm. He was a realist, and not easily given over to fantasy. He recognized that any conquering would have to be through guile or war. He did not want to risk Jehanna’s gradual growth in wealth and power by declaring war, nor did he possess the snake’s tongue of Breton politicians. That was what his wife was for, though, and she sat beside him, the two of them flanked by two of his bannermen each, dressed in courtly attire but still had their axes looped on their belts.

“Does King Frithjolf agree with my earlier statement?” Asked Grand Duke Beralt Courtois of Northpoint. Beralt was perhaps the only man he respected in the room, if only for the fact that he showed interest in the battlefield more than the court. He still thought him unworthy of his trust for the time-being, but respect? He would give him that.

“A military union between our two nations would definitely be a good thing. As it stands, I will have to consider what I stand to gain.” Frithjolf spoke, grabbing a leg of chicken on his plate and taking a large bite from it. He approached eating the same way he approached war, hard, fast and quick.

“You stand to gain many things,” Beralt paused, Frithjolf was sure the boy was about to say something foolish before deciding twice, “Trade from my port would greatly increase the wealth of your realm, and having an agreement to mutually defend each other from any threat outside of our two realms would be invaluable to the both of us.”

“I know your games, Breton. Provocateurs, assassins, spies, these are your weapons. Do not try to make me share a bed with you to serve as some trinket to make you feel more confident to move on your own military ventures.” Frithjolf stared daggers at the man before taking another bit from the leg.

“Gentleman,” Crumbs everywhere as the emissary from Wayrest spoke, “Must we fight? As we speak, we have two enemies at our borders, threatening our realm!”

Theatrics, something Frithjolf couldn’t stand. He already couldn’t stand being here, in Daggerfall, so far away from his throne and perhaps his wife, Anneliese had sensed it in him before she put her hand to his thigh, calming his breathing a bit. He looked at her and swallowed, drawing his lips tight and shaking his head ever so slightly, “And who may these enemies be, Sea-Scum?”

“I will let that slide-”

“Let it?” Prince Narcisse Septim-Vincens said, holding a goblet of wine to his smiling lips, trying to stifle a laugh. Perhaps the only thing all of the men here could agree on was that the emissary was fun to mock. That Ambrose Mackin would be dead soon by someone’s hand, sooner or later. Wayrest was a lawless land these days and no one dared to send any land convoys of goods through the area. They all ended up the same: crew slaughtered and supplies burned- except the food, of course.

“Yes,” The emissary scowled, swallowing the bite of bread before continuing, trying his best to not show that he was insulted, “Our enemies from beyond these borders are the Aldmeri Dominion! They’ve already sent emissaries to Pirate-Lord Ambrose Mackin, hoping he would give them a doorway into High Rock. Gladly, Pirate-Lord Ambrose did not let them, fearing the consequences it would bring on the realm.”

“Complete shit, you wretched little man. The Aldmeri Dominion would receive the same answer from any of us. Your Pirate-Lord was looking out for himself and only himself when he gave the answer. He knew what would happen to him if any of us found out that he had agreed to such a thing.” Prince Narcisse spat, taking another gulp of wine before waving over the wine-bearer for more of the purple liquid.

“Prince Narcisse is correct. What is your point? Why do you bring this up, little man?” Frithjolf asked in a patronizing tone before taking a large bite of bread.

“Do tell.” Beralt said, ripping a piece of bread away from his roll before stuffing his mouth with it. He watched with a smile as the emissary searched for a reason. He wasn’t a very good emissary, perhaps that was why none cared for using his name. It was Emmet Bartley.

“Well, we could mount an invasion of their Isles to take control of their resources. Surely they have countless treasures that High Rock could use. The endeavor would unite High Rock as a whole and ensure some sort of peace, given a common enemy.” The emissary seemed proud of himself. Frithjolf would have taken the chance of cutting the pride out from under him but Beralt cut in with a serious voice if Frithjolf had ever heard one.

“Have you ever spent time on a ship, fool?” Beralt asked, chewing slowly.

“Well, I did sail here.” The emissary said, quietly.

“How many times, how many voyages have you sailed? Where have you been in any sea, hm?” Beralt said, straightening himself in his chair and swallowing.

No answer. Silence at the table.

“The Empire could not defeat them. They have Tamriel’s greatest navy, ships of a make few men have seen and could ever hope to replicate. They cut through water like ebony through silk, banners and more banners, listing the heraldry of the captain back to the beginning. They are a terror at sea, Emmet Bartley of Wayrest, Emissary of Pirate-Lord Ambrose Mackin,” Beralt gulped at his wine, washing down the taste of food in his mouth before looking back coldly into the emissary’s eyes, “Your Pirate-Lord didn’t want those ships blockading his harbor and burning his coastal towns. The rabble you call a Navy would barely stand a chance, no matter how many Altmer captains you can say have raised Mackin’s banners. Do not pretend to know what would be good for High Rock, because none of you have done it any good.”

Silence again. Business as usual, it seemed. Frithjolf nodded Beralt. Perhaps they’d have something to discuss in the future, so long as the two could see eye-to-eye on something.

vallisun keeper of the woods, central vallenwood:

as it stood we stopped having a king after the last usurper to the bosmer throne was under dadric influence so instead of a king to rule all without pretense I was given the title of keeper of the woods, I was known to other nations as a representative to the nation of vallenwood. we avoided fights as much as we could and instead took to being an economic power as some of the clans agreed to going to elswer to continue our moon sugar trade a few clans near the coast kept trading our bones and furs to our cousins the altmer of the summerset isles. although I was a representative I had no throne or any special privileges I went and hunted my own food like every bosmer and I never cared to be pampered like the damned altmer rather I earned my spot because of my skills in negotiation and economic mind apart from my brothers and sisters in vallenwood. under the green pact we were strict carnivores so I grabbed my bow and arrows as I climbed the tree for a vantage point. our climbing skills rivaled that of the kajit themselves. I waited as an elk came nearby and I shot it dead easily as I jumped down and started to ear my dinner raw. Although we ate all flesh including those of our enemies we were pacifist and we wouldn't go to war with anyone knowing that under our green pact we would eat our enemies and need to go through a fast before the battle. we defended the forests with our lives and are damn good at it but outside the forest to win a war we would need help, since archery could only take us so far.

White Gold Tower "The War Room"

The Emperor Triarius stood, leaning over the map of Tamriel as his military, political and financial advisors argued in a deafening voice over the next move. The shook his head slowly and raised, letting out a booming shout "Silence!" And with that word the room fell silent. He pointed to Valenwood on the map as his voice returned to normal "As we speak I have sent a rider south, with hopes he will slip through the border and deliver my proposition to the Bosmer. Once we smash what is left we turn our gaze to the Summerset isles..."
"Their navy is unstoppable! There is no way we would ever be able to land and invasion force and..." General Marcus Triarius, the Emperors Brother began, but was cut off by the Emperor again
"What if we didn't fight it? If we land a small group upon the island, they might be able to move unnoticed. They slip into the shipyards of the elves, and set the ships alight while they are docked."
"Are you insane? I mean... with all respect, my Emperor, they'll get caught and slaughtered for sure" Admiral Vici said, shaking his head slowly
"If we try to fight their fleet we'll be caught and slaughtered anyway." The Emperor said with a sigh, moving his finger across the map to High Rock "If we manage to sink as many of the Elven ships as we can in their harbours, we can call upon our friends in High Rock and our... acquaintances in Hammerfell. If we secure assistance then we might be able to take on the damaged Thalmor navy and land an invasion force upon Summerset isles"
"My lord, even if we do land our forces it would be an uphill struggle to secure them."
"More like an uphill struggle carrying the bones of a Dragon"
"Exactly my lord! We simply cannot do it"
"Tiber Septim did." The General cut back in
"But we do not have Tiber Septim!" The Admiral smashed his hand against the table
"No, but he is on our side. Talos favours the races of men, we will have his blessing" The General said with a grin, folding his arms
"But..."
"Talos is a god, Admiral, there is no point in pretending otherwise because the Altmer will it. Think about it, why would they try so hard to stop Talos worship if he isn't a god? Wouldn't they simply laugh at our blindness instead? Why do the shrines of Talos grant us blessings? Tiber Septims spirit runs through the world, Admiral, like the other Eight Divines" The General glanced to the Emperor "Am I right, my lord?"
"It doesn't matter, unless Talos plans to materialize and stomp the Altmer for us. We can't charge into battle hoping a divine will save us, we need strategy, tactics and manpower... Which is why we need the other races of men to stand beside us"
"And how do you plan to do that? The Nords and the Redguards distrust us... maybe even outright hate us... and the Bretons are too busy fighting each other to bother with the Thalmor" The Admiral shook his head again with a sigh
"They'll stand with us. The Thalmor will take this time to build up their strength, then they will sweep across Tamriel. How do you think they are going to treat the Redguards for all the soldiers they lost in that war? How about the Nords for driving out the Justicars? They'll stand with us, they may not like it but I think they will" The Emperor turned to the Admiral "Admiral, get me the smallest and fastest ship in the Empire that you can find, General get me your best battlemages, preferably Mer so they can fit in"
"As you wish." The two said, and turned to leave the 'War Room'. The Emperor sighed and lent over the map. Trouble lay ahead, he could feel it. The people of Cyrodiil seemed united behind him, but if it came to total war against the Thalmor, would that be enough? Would he be able to get the Redguards and Nords to support him? Would the Bretons be too busy slaughtering each other? First step first. He turned his head and called out, the Blade 'Master and Commander' nodded as his emperor summoned him
"I need the Blades ready, I intend to travel to High Rock, I will have need of their fleets"
"I will inform your Blades, my lord"

Valenwood

The messenger, a wood elf, raced through the woods. He had been careful to ensure that he looked as close to the native elves of Valenwood as possible, removing his imperial clothing and donning that more akin to what was worn by Bosmer Hunters. The message was tucked neatly into his clothing, out of sight, as he searched far and wide for the Bosmer 'Keeper', all while avoiding the Thalmor who would surely cut his throat if they discovered he was working for the Empire. He slowed as he heard an arrow fly overhead and ducked, moving slowly through the green foliage as he watched a Bosmer jump from a tree and set upon an Elk. He grimaced, he had never agreed with that... he had been born and raised in Cyrodiil, after all. It took him a few moments to recognise the Keeper from the description he had been given, and he moved from the tree line "Psst... You there! You're the Keeper of Valenwood aren't you? I'm with the Penitus Oculatus" He whispered, as he approached slowly "I bring a message... From the Emperor." The messenger extended his hand to give it to the Keeper

To the Keeper of Valenwood

We may not have the best relations, I respect that. I also respect your views on the woods and your pacifism
But there comes a time when all must stand and fight against a common enemy. We both know what the Altmer will do to your woods one day, when they need more timber for their ships. They will hack them all down and kill your forests. If they are given time, they will ride across Tamriel and crush the other races. Whether our suffering worries you or not, your trade will certainly be hit. If you secede from the Aldmeri Dominion, however, and toss the Thalmor out of your lands and join the Empire, then I can lift the restrictions on your trade with Elsweyr. Once you are no longer serving with my political enemy, I will no longer have to restrict imports and exports, giving a major boost to your economy as a result.
All I ask in return is that you secede from the Aldmeri Dominion and join us. We will not effect your way of life, you will receive the same agreement we signed with Elsweyr. I give you my word that we will respect your beliefs and your government will not be changed, you will gain free trade with every other province in the Empire, you will have self governance and I will station Imperial Legion troops to help defend you from invasion should you ever be threatened. In return you must abide by Imperial law, except where concessions are made as part of the agreement (IE: The protection of your forests, legality of Moonsugar and Skooma) and swear fealty to the Empire.
While you may be Elves like the Altmer, I think you have more in common with the Khajiit and as a result the Empire than you do with the racist Aldmeri Dominion. Unlike the Altmer, who stand high and mighty, you live as one with the land. The Thalmor think the Altmer the superior race, when in reality no race is better than the others. We are all different but we are all equal. I trust you will do the right thing for both your people and all of Tamriel.

Yours faithfully
Emperor Gaius Triarius the First

Post Scriptum; Please destroy this letter when you have given your response to my messenger

Black Marsh, Helstorm

Beem-Teeus paced around the room while some of his top generals argued about either invading Morrowind or gathering intel on an impending war. He raised one scaly hand the room slowly became silent.

"Men, we don't know for sure if there is a war," he said calmly. "But we are not going to invade Morrowind."

"But they had us as slaves!" one of his generals. "I think we should return the favor!"

"That was ages ago, Stalks-In-Swamps." He cleared his throat. "I called you all here because there are rumors going on about a war. And I intend to send informants and spies around Tamriel."

"Where would they go? You can't send them to Summerset Isles. The Dominion may be regaining their strength and power!" said Stalks-In-Swamps.

"We may not have a choice. I will send one informant to Hammerfell and Skyrim and see if they can relay me anything."

"Who would we send?" asked another general.

"I'm sending my best informant, Tim-Kai, to Hammerfell and he will go to Skyrim from there. He will learn all he can from the locals and send a messenger to me."

"Preferably Argonian," joked Stalks-In-Swamps. "We don't want the messenger to catch a disease and croak on us."

"My wife, Aney-Mei will have that taken care of."

"Is it wise to let your wife have more power than most women?"

"She's knows what she's doing," snarled Beem-Teeus. "She's a strong woman."

"When does Tim-Kai leave?" Stalks-In-Swamps asked.

"Send him tonight!" another general announced. "The soon the better."

"He'll be crossing the border to Cyrodiil first thing in the morning. I sent him out this afternoon."

The room grew silent as Aney-Mei entered the room. She was considered lovely by nearly all the Argonians even though she is part Argonian. She glanced around the room before joining her husband's side.

I sighed loudly once I finished reading the letter as I went to a tree and put my hand on it to think what I should do. The last thing we needed was another influence in vallenwood and we couldn't stand being in a war but it is true what he said, the altmer would sooner destroy our forest for their own navy then to protect us. After that damned dominion ended we never had help from them it was only because our moon sugar trade with the kajit that we became better allies. we would need to turn the profit into our favor but we would need our own allies as well so I ripped up the letter and I looked at the messenger " if your emperor wants us to secede then he will first need to agree that if he sends troops during a war then he must make sure that they don't dare touch our trees. if they do we will kill them ourselves regardless if they are allies or not our first allegiance is to the forest. we will secede but we will only allow your troops to be allowed here and to be used as a staging area for your assault so you can attack the altmer from the east, we can send some of our hunters by request but only if it is needed. if your emperor needs more then what I offered then we will open negotiations here in vallenwood." I told the messanger as I collected the bones and fur from my recently dead elk. praying to the forest that I did the right thing

Valenwood

The messenger waited patiently as the Keeper spoke, then nodded "I assume that means that you wish to retain independence rather than become a province of the Empire? That's a shame, but understandable and what you have offered us, a staging ground for our strike against the Thalmor is an indispensable asset. I must ask that when you secede from the Aldmeri that you be ready for a backlash, the Thalmor are likely not willing to give it up peacefully. We'll have a legion move here to remove any Thalmor who are too stubborn to acknowledge your secession and then prepare for an assault. What you have done here is a great service to your forest or the peoples of Tamriel. I will ensure the Legionnaires know not to damage your tree's. Are there any other terms that the legion would need to abide by? Our knowledge of Valenwood has been more limited since the Dominion came to power"

simply that they cant damage our trees or eat the fruits we have here. if they require fruits then they need to bring their own supplies but we can provide meats and furs. if you can follow those rules then you will have our archers at your back. make sure your emperor keeps his end of the deal with our trading and we will keep our independence. we will wait till your troops are on the move before we secede from the dominion. However, you must tell your emperor that to have his best he will need to get the aid of the kajit so that we can use both of our climbing and stealth tactics to win his war." I said simply nodding to him that he has our support but not succession until he sends his troops since what he said was true that their would be a backlash with the thalmor and as skilled as we were with our archery and guerilla tactics we had few if any battle mages at our side

Inside Torval, The city-state in which the Mane (Currently Ab'kar Sarahaan) and his tribe are located and which no Human may tread, the Mane stood above a table covered by a map of Elsweyr inside his brightly lit palace. His palace was surrounded by sugar cane gardens. The Mane's, mane was flowing with the hair of him and his fellow tribe members. His Mane weighed him down so much he could barely move.
"My Mane," A familiar voice nearby said "We must act quickly!". The voice was the Manes 'Warrior Guard', Ab''Farahn. "If we do not act quickly, Then the bandits will attack the arms convoy, and we will lose all of our arms! We may even risk attack, as these bandits equip themselves, and do... The gods know what!".
"Ab''Farahn," The Mane replied "We must not be clumsy about this. If we act too quickly, our actions may result in failure. It would be foolish, to act without thinking. Besides, our men will never reach there in time.".
"And if we take to long thinking then that would also result in failiure! That too would be foolish!"
"Hmm... Perhaps we can ask the Imperials for aid."
"What? You think they will help with a few bandits? Ab''Farahn is amused!.. What good have they ever done us!"
"Are you forgetting that they helped us kick out the Aldmeri?.. Because Ab'kar Sarahaan certainly hasn't."

Ab'kar started to write a letter.
"Fine!.. Ab'Farahn shall take this letter to the Imperials." Ab'Farahn said.
Ab'kar laughed, "Don't be foolish Ab'Farahn!" He replied.
"What? What is so amusing!? Ab'Farahn does not understand!"
"I'm not risking sending you! I need you! You are Ab'kar and Torval's Warrior Guard! You shall remain here. You would never make it in time anyway!"
"And who would? Who would make it in time to deliver a message before the attack?"
"I shall send a Khajiit Scout, messenger, or whatever you would like to call it. Trained in the best athletics!" Ab'kar clapped his hands. A messenger came into the room.
"You called Ma'far, My Mane?" The messenger asked.
"Yes." The mane replied "Take this to the imperial city to the White Gold Tower in the Imperial city. Give it to the Emperor, or any way in which he may receive it." The mane handed him the letter.
"But that is an entire province awa... Yes my Mane."
"Good. Ab'kar thanks you Ma'far. Go now." He waved Ma'far off.
"Yes my Mane."

The letter read:
"Dear Emperor Gaius Triarius,
Ab'kar, Mane of Elsweyr, Requires your assistance. Elsweyr is in danger from a band of bandits. Now, Ab'kar knows it sounds stupid, but please continue reading. There is a convoy of weapons and armor heading from the city of Orcrest to The city of Corinthe. However, the convoy is at risk of attack from bandits, who if succeed in their task, will have an unbelievable amount of equipment. With this equipment they could do many terrifying things! They could increase there operations and could even attack a city! Ab'kar asks you now, please come to aid us inbetween the path of Orcrest and Corinthe at noon tomorrow! The reason Ab'kar come to you rather than sending Ab'kar's own military, is the fact that you are more equipped and have better transport, with your many breeds of horses. Our current Imperial Garrison is still ill equipped and is stationed in Cornithe, which is of course where the equipment is headed.

Kind regards,
Ab'kar Sarahaan, Mane of Elsweyr."

"You think he will get there in time? More important do you think the Imperials will come to our aid in time, or to our aid at all?" Asked Ab'Farahn.
"I know he will, I can not say about the rest ." Replied Ab'kar.
***
The messenger arrived at the Imperial city in under two hours. He headed to the tower, and requested permission to see the emperor. "I have a message for the Emperor." He said "From the Mane of Elsweyr.".

Imperial Palace

The messenger was guided to the Emperor, who was preparing to leave already by carriage with an escort of his 'Blades' on horseback. He looked to the Khajiit as he stepped down from his carriage and took the message and broke the seal, opening it and reading it, frowning as he did. The Master and Commander of the Blades rode around, speaking
"Emperor Triarius, Sir, the Convoy is ready to..." The Master and Commander paused, examining the Khajiit. The Emperor passed the letter to the Master and Commander who read over it quickly "It'll be a miracle if our forces can get there in time, it's leagues away." The master and commander exclaimed as he handed the letter back to the Emperor
"Even if I send our fastest riders we will be hard pressed to get there in time!" The Emperor said with a shake of his head, turning to the Imperial Legion soldier who had been escorting him to the carriage "Auxiliary, inform Legate Hadvar that I require four of his fastest mounted legionnaires to head South to Elsweyr post haste. On the path from Orcrest to Corinthe they will find a Khajiit caravan, they must be there before noon tomorrow."
"Yes my lord!" The Auxiliary said, as he took the letter from the Emperor and gave a quick salute before dashing off, the Emperor turned his gaze towards the Khajiit "Return to your lord, tell him we will send our aide the fastest we can." The Emperor climbed back into the carriage "Ride!" He yelled, and the carriage pulled away, the blades racing along side it.

Valenwood

"I see, I'm certain the Emperor will want to open negotiations when this is all over. For now, I will return to Cyrodiil. Good luck, Keeper, but I have no doubt you will succeed" The Messenger said, turning and dashing off through the green foliage again, heading up north once more

"Temijen my son, stand before the old gods and swear...from this day until your last..You will always be an enemy of the Thalmor." - Last words of K'avsaron, Father of Temijen, post siege of Hegathe

Sentinel, Palace Barracks;

The blow staggered Kilren even though he knew it was coming; his shield went high to collide with the blade and brought it down sharply to the side to complete the parry. His opponent was too skilled and wily however, as he went through with the motion hoping to drew his blade down and away from him. His opponent, a heavily muscled broad shouldered warrior with shot cut hair, went with the motion and offered no resistance. But as he did he brought himself closer with a quick step, well within Kilren's guard. The larger man’s shield went up in a quick backhand towards Kilren's face. He saw the movement so late to avoid it, but he backpedaled all the same. The hard wood smacked him hard in the face and his senses went wild for a moment as a sharp pain spread through his nose.

It was probably broken Kilren knew, but he ignored the pain with simple mental discipline. He swept his sword up and to his left, just under the man’s shield arm, he was still to close and was also shifting backward so the blow did not have the force to badly cut or wound the arm. Still it brought him the time he needed to avoid a second shield bash to the face. His opponent's arm retreated back far enough to rob him the chance to cut at the arm again, he also doubted he had managed to cut through the leather bracer there, but his opponent would think twice before trying that maneuver again. Kilren and his opponent began to circle one another once more in the small arena. Beyond the wooden fence a crowd of spectators watched on, some cheering their chosen champion, many of the older men observing the display with a cynical eye. The instructor stationed on a podium with his arms crossed over his broad chest was the only man who's opinion Kilren cared about.

They were watching him closely however, with a warrior’s eye, and he did not plan to embrace his family or himself this day. He put them out of his mind however; he could not let distractions into his thoughts. He opponent was breathing heavily; sweat gleaming from his forehead and shining in the hot sun’s rays that fell from the blue heavens above. Kilren was tired as well, but he dare not let it show, sweat swept down from his forehead to dance down his dark cheeks. He felt keenly the cool breeze that blew down from the west. He marked the shadows at the corners of his eyes, slowly circling with his opponent, waiting for when the shadows leaned away from him. When his own shadowy profile pointed toward his larger adversary, that small window…that moment when the suns bright rays would then fall on his opponent's eyes.

He waited for that moment and when it came in the form of the man’s subtle but, to Kilren who was waiting for it, obvious squint of his eyes. The moment the sun was at Kilren's back and in his opponents eye was the moment he struck fast, first he pumped his arm into a tight cut, once, twice, three times all aiming high. His opponent easily blocked them all, but as the fourth cut came high, Kilren skillfully shifted the scimitar in his hand and cut down low at his opponents leading leg. The man shifted his leg back even as he dropped his wooden leather bound shield low. It intercepted the blow but the quickness and the change of flow had caused his guard to drop for just a moment, as he was momentarily off balance.

A moment was all Kilren needed however, as he swung in with his scimitar leading, he quickly swept his left foot behind his right, then dropped low, effectively spinning with the entire momentum of his body to then catch his opponent on back heel. He used the blunt end of his scimitar, and while this would normally not mean the man would fall over, even overbalanced as he was. Kilren skillfully hooked the curved end of his blade, combined with his momentum, in order to pull that leg out from under the larger man. He gave a short lived yelp, which turned into a grunt as his back hit the sand hard. He would have jumped right back to his feet, but there was Kilren's blade at the man’s throat.

The man’s eyes bulged momentarily in surprise.

"Yield." Kilren said through gritted teeth.

The man said nothing, anger evident in his eyes. Kilren pressed the sword a little further and the fight left his opponents eyes. With a curt nod he accepted his defeat. A grin could not help but spread across his face as his opponent finally yielded. He had been a tough one, but he had done it. He looked up at the redguard standing with his arms still crossed atop the podium that overlooked the little arena in the palace courtyard. All of which connected to Sentinels barracks. The instructor wore no smile, but he did nod his head. Kilren had proven himself worthy of joining Vanquisher Temjin's growing army.

---

Sentinel, Main War Room:

Temijen, Lord of Sentinel and Vanquisher of the Aldmeri and King of Hammerfell, sat before a round table in the center of a wide oval shaped room. Charts, maps, scrolls, and parchments littered the oaken table. Around the table sat his most trusted generals and lieutenants, some of the older guard were veterans of the Great War, those were some of his closes and most trusted of friends and advisers. Of the group there was an almost splint number between those belonging to the Forebears and Crowns. Though the two groups had long since reconciled and enjoin forces, there of course remained old grievances and animosity. Temijen had purposely made sure to splint his council as evenly as possible between members of both factions, as to not appear to favor either. Perhaps a fruitless effort, as Temijen himself including his father had descended from the Forebears. They rarely agreed on anything, however, and some still needed to be brought to heel now and again.

It was a task Temijen had almost seemed born for. While he had spent most of his later years before the Great War in Cyrodiil, as an Imperial officer. Temijen had been born with a natural charisma, and a seemingly innate understanding of the world of politics. In the years following the redguards victory (a nearly Pyrrhic Victory though it may have been) over the Aldmeri Dominion, Temijen had been brutally efficient in his rise to power. He had given governance of the coastal cities over to trusted generals, some of which had not even been redguard, so as to weaken the political ties and strengths of both Forbears and Crowns. With that done, he had went on to cowing the many smaller realms and factions within Hammerfell, first starting with the nomads and rogue tribes. It had been long work, but in time all of Hammerfell was under his dominion. He had from then went on to reforming the armies of both the crowns and forbears. Finally reorganizing Hammerfell's naval forces, introducing the system of the High Captains.

In the end Temijen had given birth to a new Hammerfell, one free of the cowardice and weakness of the Empire. But now that he had all but solidified his power at home, it was time he fulfill the promise he had made to all redguards long ago.

"Where do our armies stand?" Temijen asked aloud. His dark eyes fell on Suljack, Master of Arms.

"Better than he could have hoped, High Lord." He announced with a wide grin, flashing white teeth which stood in sharp contrast to his ebony skin. "Our current strength stands over 33,000 strong, and they could further grow if we introduce nomadic tribes willing to march for the promise of loot and glory."

Temijen nodded, better than he had estimated indeed all things considered. "And our previsions?" This he aimed to his Lord of Coin.

The tall and surprisingly lanky Haeklith licked his lips before Answering. "This year’s harvest has been rather poor, however we still have last year’s harvest stored away, it was only meant for emergencies in case of a drought or worse. But it can suffice for ten months of campaign."

Temijen nodded solemnly, that was most unexpected, but the land of Hammerfell was hardly anything close to predictable, yet still it had fashioned a strong people from its harsh embrace. "How have hour recent plans went for the new fleets?"

T'ozun shrugged. "High Lord, it would seem the High Captains have reported a few setbacks, mostly in the form of heavy storms off the coast sinking some of our older war ships." But he added with that same breath. "However, plans are still proceeding apace, the forest south of the Dragontail Mountain have proved sufficient for our needs."

Temijen allowed himself a brief smile. "Excellent, once the new war ships have been completed, we can move on to the next phase of our plans." He then leaned forward on the table and let his eyes drift across the map of Tamriel. "In the mean time we must keep an eye to High Rock to the west. The chaos there could yet be used to our advantage. Prepare an envoy to set out by ship, it time we got into contact with some old friends."

I nodded to the rider as I got the clans ready for when we spring the news to the thalmor. once we told them we were succeeding it would be difficult to get the hard headed (most of them) out of the forest. we swore to protect the forest no matter what and they knew that, they would most likely use their destruction magic to burn down our forests when we tell them. which is why I needed to wait for them to send aid before we kicked them out otherwise we would violate the green pact and have failed to protect our forest. we just needed to wait for the empires battle mages

Imperial Palace, Imperial City, Cyrodiil.

The messenger bowed and nodded as the Emperor rode away. "Safe Travels, My Emperor!" He yelled as he started his journey back to Elsweyr as fast as his feet would take him.

***Three or four Hours later***

The Mane's Palace, Torval, Elsweyr.

"My Mane," Ab'Farahn said "The messenger as returned."
"Bring him in! Now!" Replied Ab'kar. "Did you make it?! Does he know?! Will they come?!" Asked Ab'kar quickly.
"Many questions my Mane..." Replied the messenger, Ma'far, as he panted "Ma'far will answer all.... I made it... He knows... They will come... Well, they will try... If they are not already there... Which I currently doubt they are... It may be possible... They will be on their way..." Ma'far finished.
"Good, Go now Ma'far. Ab'kar gives you leave. Go rest." replied Ab'kar.
"Thank you my Mane." Ma'far retired to rest.

"They best make it here in time, my Mane. Ab'Farahn is worried." Ab'Farahn said.
"Let's hope they do." replied Ab'kar.
"They could do who knows what with that equipment. We need it."
"Then let us hope they do not acquire it. Ab'Farahn, Send the few ill equipped men we do have, and yourself, to help the Emperors men."
"Yes, my Mane."
"May the gods watch over them..."

Ab'Farahn went to the barracks of Torval, yelling orders as he went through. Ab'Farahn mounted his horse and marched the men to path between Orcrest and Corinthe. The men were equipped with tatted leather armor, except for the few who had managed to acquire Elven armor from the dead Thalmor from the past few years (and even that was damaged), and old, rusted Iron swords and bows. At least the arrows were undamaged. They had scavenged the few supplies they could from the revolt against the Aldmeri Dominion. Sadly, That was not much. Ab'Farahn wore a custom made set of armor made from scraps of Leather, Iron, and Elven armor, and wore a Sabre-toothed cat's skin around his neck. He was equipped with a heavy Elven Warhammer. The army, if you could even call it that, it was more like a band of ill equipped adventurers, rode towards their destination.

***1-2 Hours later***

Near the path between Orcrest and Corinthe.

The Khajiits had arrived near the path. They hid behind a canyon, so they would not give there position away to the plotting bandits. "Let's hope the Imperials arrive here soon." Said Ab'Farahn.

***30 minutes later***

Suddenly, the Khajjits were attacked by a small portion of the bandits. As Ab'Farahn heard the battle cries coming from over a nearby hill, he turned his head, and to his shock a group of bandits flooded over the hill. The bandit group consisted of four swordsmen and two archers, While the Khajiit forces consisted of 10 ill equipped archers, 6 ill equipped swordsmen and Ab'Farahn. The archers loosed their bows and one of the arrows hit the corner of Ab'Farahn's left eye, and the other killed one of the Khajiit's swordsmen. Ab'Farahn screamed in pain, and was suddenly overcome in rage. The arrow fell from his eye to the floor. Luckly, the arrow did not do any major damage, and had just damaged his eyesight. "Bastard!" He yelled, as he charged up the hill toward the archers. He smashed one skull with his Warhammer and dived onto the other, who had hit him. He smashed the others skull in several times, before finally stamping on his face... Well the face that was now a pile of crushed bones, and blood. The Khajiits had managed to kill the four swordsmen, but lost a few men. The Khajiits lost three archers and two swordsmen. "Scavenge all the gear you can from our men and their men!" Yelled Ab'Farahn as blood poured from his eye "We will bury our loses later." The Khajiit men started to scavange all the equipment they could, equipping themselves with the better gear, saying their goodbyes and giving their respects as they did. "These men were too skilled to be ordinary bandits... Something is up..." Whispered Ab'Farahn "Ab'Farahn is worried.". Ab'Farahn picked up piece of cloth and folded it around his head, covering the corner of his left eye, as a bandage. "Men!" He yelled "let us move! More will come to discover what has happened soon. Let us find a new place to take up hold!".

Elsweyr
The Horsemen rode to Elsweyr, riding through evening and night until they reached the province. Across the border they rode, stopping for nothing and tirelessly charging forwards... Although tireless would hardly be the word to describe their now overused steeds, transforming them to beasts of burden carrying their masters across the Empire.
No horse should have to endure such a dash, and by the time they reached Orcest their horses were at the breaking point and it was already into the early morning, 7:00 AM. The horsemen came to a halt here, the four of them tending to their steeds and taking a few moments to eat and drink, as the road ahead was hardly the most hospitable. They set off again at 9:00, working the horses who had been given so little time to recover into the ground again
They caught up to the convoy at 10:00 and lingered behind as they rode after it, waiting to pounce the bandits should they come to sight and deliver a quick strike to the bandits hearts. They had no doubt they could take on a ragtag group of bandits, and hopefully the bandits would mistake them as a larger force than they really were in the heat of battle and retreat

Imperial Legion Garrison, Fort Istirus
The Long Resurected fort had been reoccupied for the Legion years ago, designed to watch the river that ran between Valenwood and Cyrodiil. The Imperial Legion Garrison there had been awaiting the return of their messenger from Valenwood, and indeed he arrived in the small rowboat he had used to cross it and delivered the message directly to Legate Brutus
"What did they saw Anglor?" The Legate asked as he emerged with his Body Guards, and the Bosmer struck a salute
"Legate Brutus, sir, Valenwood will rise up against the Thalmor, they await our forces invasion as their signal" The Wood elf reported
"Excellent work, Anglor, another province for the Empire!" The Legate chuckled, clapping his hands together
"Uh... Well, actually Legate Brutus, Sir... They aren't going to join the Empire..." The Bosmer said sheepishly, and the Legate gave a sigh of disbelief
"Truely?" The Legates voice carried no small amount of disappointment "By the Nine, tell me you at least secured Military Access?"
"I did, sir, but our forces are restricted from damaging the tree's."
"I see Anglor, Dismissed" The Legate sighed weakly, turning and examining the shoreline, plotting his next move

A Summit In the North (High Rock)

As there were the different factions in High Rock and no single over all ruler, multiple messengers rode to each of the four kingdoms and the one republic, carrying variations of a similar letter which they delivered to the guard upon arrival
"A message from the Emperor!" They would declare "He calls a Summit."
(Ruler Title and Name)
I request your presence at a Summit regarding the threat of the Aldmeri Dominion to the races of men and the free peoples of Tamriel, to be held on the Isle of Balfiera, in the Iliac Bay, near the borders with both Skyrim and Hammerfell. With some fortune, the Summit will be attended by both Vanquisher Temijen of Hammerfell and The Dovahkiin, High King Giles of Skyrim.
Emperor Gaius Triarius the First

A Summit in the North (Hammerfell)
The Imperial Rider rode through the heat of Hammerfell to the gates of Sentinel. He knew of this land only what the maps had told him, and he had followed their instructions to Sentinel. He called out to the Redguards
"Hail, noble redguards! I carry a message from beyond your southern border, from Emperor Triarius!" The Rider called, taking the note and delivering it with a small smile upon his face
Vanquisher Temijen
I humbly request your presence at a Summit regarding the threat of the Aldmeri Dominion to all the races of man and the free peoples of Tamriel, to be held on the Isle of Balfiera, in the Iliac Bay, near the borders with both Skyrim and Hammerfell. With some fortune, the Summit will be attended by both the Breton lords of High Rock and The Dovahkiin, High King Giles of Skyrim.
Emperor Gaius Triarius the First

A Summit in the North (Skyrim) ((I am going to assume that since Ulfric is the only Jarl as being mentioned to die, Giles became High King ruling from Windhelm))
The Imperial Rider endured the bitter cold of Skyrim as he rode for Windhelm. He knew Skyrim well, he had lived here before and served in the legion during the Civil War... The outcome of which still embittered him to this day, more than any frost could do
"Hail, our nordic brothers! I carry a message from Emperor Triarius of Cyrodiil!" The Rider called, taking the note and delivering it with a small smile upon his face
The Dragonborn High King Giles
I humbly request your presence at a Summit regarding the threat of the Aldmeri Dominion to all the races of man and the free peoples of Tamriel, to be held on the Isle of Balfiera, in the Iliac Bay. With some fortune, the Summit will be attended by both the Breton lords of High Rock and Vanquisher Temijen of Hammerfell
Emperor Gaius Triarius the First

"The best techniques are passed on by the survivors..." - Gaiden Shinji, Blademaster First Era, 947

Port of Rihad,

The sun was rising high in the near cloudless sky, a swift breeze smelling of salty air was heavy in the wind. The light blue water sloshed against the docks of port. Dockhands moved crates from a nearby warehouse onto a large Baghlah. The ship was ornately decorated, with a bow sculpted into the shape of a mermaid. Its flag was purple, with two yellow-gold curved scimitars crossed in the center.

A single redguard stood overlooking the scene. He tall and lean, his face heavily decorated with purple and blue war paint. He was not dressed like most redguards: he wore a long, navy blue velvet robe, with gold-and-silver-colored trim that gleaned in the sunlight. Large jewel earrings, some hoops, others solid stones, dangled from his ears, giving him an almost outlandish appearance to be sure.

“Aye Captain!” cried a dockworker. The redguard turned to the man- an imperial. “It is two more ships like this that need filling, yes?”

“Yes, yes, two ships, just like this one, they need to be stocked, and quickly.” The captain spoke quickly with a commanding air. “And that's Captain Therdim if you don;t mind."

The dockhand quickly bobbed his head in understanding before rushing off to report his orders to his fellows. High Captain Therdim strode to the edge of his ship’s bow to lean on the railing to overlook the countless other ships at dock. Some were fishing or the rare trading vessel, but the ones Therdim were interested in counted the largest group. Dozens of war ships lined the harbor, more than Therdim could count at a glance, from smaller and swift dhow's to great and powerful war galleys armed with ballista's or catapults. The past years had seen a drastic up scaling in naval war ships all across the western coast line of Hammerfell. War was in the air and every man and women knew it, it was on the lips of soldiers to common folk.

The buildup of forces had no doubt not gone unnoticed, but as if yet no one knew for certain when and where Temijen planned to strike. His up scaling of the Ra-gada navy was a such that many ships were actually beached instead of docked at a proper harbor. With large camps fortified and built around these areas, effectively creating what many had termed 'ship sheds'. These sheds had so far served to store the ships light and dry in readiness for launch at the break of war, and even Therdim could not guess the overall naval strength Hammerfell now possessed. Indeed, it would seem Temijen had planned well.

The sound of an approaching pair of feet shook Therdim from his thoughts, and he turned to be greeted by Captain Nhermur of the Red Mist. They greeted each other respectively. "Captain Nhermur, to what do I owe the honor?"

Nhermur was slightly shorter than him, but wider of shoulder and more compactly built. He flashed an easy smile before responding. "I just thought I'd pay a visit to an old friend. I see everything is proceeding apace as planned." He added the last with a nod to the cargo being loaded below deck.

Therdim rubbed his chin. "Ah, yes, it would appear to be so. With any luck we should reach Stros M'kai in a weeks’ time, sooner if the wind favors us."

Nhermur nodded. "So Temijen has so ordered, though to what end we will not know until we get there."

Therdim eyed him thoughtfully. "It would seem obvious; he means to strike out against the Aldmeri Dominion."

"But where –or when– will we strike first? The Aldmeri according to recent reports still marshal in Valenwood, but it would seem he proposes to attack Alinor itself."

Therdim shrugged as if it did not matter. "A difficult proposition to be sure, it is well known that the Altmer possess a formidable fleet. But so do we, if there is any in Tamriel that can match them at sea, it is us."

"The Altmer have battlemages to bolster their ships, it would be no simple task," Nhermur was quick to point out.

Therdim looked back out at sea as he considered. "That they do, but if rumors are to be believed it would seem Temijen still has a trick or two hidden in his sleeves."

"In that case I hope your right."

The waters before them were dotted with dozens of tiny islands. Swaying palm trees and shifting sand covered them. Ships maneuvered around them skillfully, against crashing waves, thick with white salt, heading forward toward the rising sun.

---

Sentinel Palace,

Temijen paced across the balcony that overlooked the courtyards and gardens bellow. At this vantage point offered a fantastic view of the city as a whole, as well as the coast and ocean beyond. With his arms folded behind his back, he stalked back and forth lost in thought. He almost did not note the shadow at the balcony edge, the figure there shrouded in shadow.

"I do hate when you stalk about." Temijen voiced without turning toward the figure.

"I do so apologize my lord, it's an old habit." The sound of the speaker tone made it evident he had a smile on his lips. "But you understand my discretion; it would not bode to well if any saw you in my company."

Temijen had stopped at the center of the balcony and gripped the railing, his back to the stranger. If the man meant to do him any harm, it would seem incredibly easy just then.

"Have you made progress with the dwemer discovery?" Temijen asked cutting right to business.

"Oh yes, we have been able to learn much from the ruins of Volenfell had revealed many secrets." The figure stepped out of the shadow of the column, revealing a robed man draped in a desert headdress which concealed most of his features. Alik'r wizard smiled then added. "While the old Dwemer contraptions are still to advance for us to use, but ballistae’s based on their designs have already been constructed. Once they have been properly tested you will have a new and potent weapon to use for your fleets."

"Now that is good news, let me know when the test have been completed, once that is done have them shipped to Stros M'kai."

The Alik'r wizard bowed. "Of course, it shall be done, as soon as the latest expedition returns with their discoverers."

The footsteps of someone from the main chamber that lead to the balcony warned them of someone approaching. The man shifted to hide once more in the shadows and seemed to become almost one with them- or he simply vanished might have been a more appropriate description. A guard entered through the wide curtains and bowed low.

"Forgive my disturbing you lord vanquisher, but a missive directly from the Imperial capital has arrived."

Temijen turned intrigued by the news, though his hard face betrayed no emotion. "Is that so? Well, hand it here, let’s see what the fowls want." The man handed over the letter and Temijen read it carefully. Temijen huffed, as he reread the letter shaking his head. He looked to the guard and waved him off. After several minutes the Alik'r wizard stepped from the shadows again, seeming almost as if he had suddenly appeared from nowhere.

"I assume the Empire has not a made declaration for Hammerfell to rejoin the fold."

Temijen scoffed. "They seek a summit within the Western Reach, in the city of Evermor. They think they can call us to the table like dogs." He spat in disgust.

Alik'r mage said nothing for a moment as he thought on the implications. "So they wish a meeting, who else is to come to this 'summit'?

"They call upon their bickering slaves in High Rock, and the High King of Skyrim. It takes little imagination of what they wish to discuss."

"Perhaps this can still be used to our advantage my lord? Going to his meeting means nothing- attendance could help us discern how the other provinces feel if nothing else. Much could be learned, and no agreement would need be made with the Emperor."

Temijen, however, was shaking his head. "I will not attend any audience of theirs, even if the cowardly Titus Medes no longer sits on the throne; they have long since lost our respect and our support."

The man only shrugged. "We lose nothing in going, and stand to gain. At the worst of it, you can see their new Emperor beg for Redguard aid. That is at least something."

Temijen left hand went to his chine as he thought on the matter more. Finally with a nod he answered. "Very well then, we will see what this new emperor has to say. And I will get a measure of this 'Emperor Gaius Triarius the First', for their sake let us hope he has more iron in his belly then his predecessor."

Grand Conference Hall, New Vivec, Vvardenfell.

The Grand Councillors of Morrowind sat inside a room filled with ornate artifacts gathered by the Nerevarine during his travels in Nirn. They were all sitting in a chair positioned to make a circular formation, with the center chair being reserved for the King. They were all squabbling with each other as they wait for their liege, some talking about their conflicting agendas, while the others simple argue due to personal reasons. With the tension between the "rival" houses beginning to escalate, the door sealing the room spread apart, with a figure striding in the middle it. It was King Oravos the Nerevarine, God slayer, and Azura's favored that entered the room. The councilors immediately shut themselves and stood from their seats, hoping that their king didn't mind the hints of their arguments during his entry.

"Take your seats councilors, and state the business to why you've held this meeting." Oravos said as he sat on the chair prepared for him.

The councilors sat to their chairs, while one of councilors from House Dres remained standing to initiate the meeting. After saying the necessary formalities, the councilors began to flood the King with matters that never occurred to him. Some, involving personal affairs of a house, while the other, involved future plans for Morrowind. Oravos addressed each topic tossed to him, and dropped his verdict of what should be done. While all of the verdicts was just, some of the councilors couldn't help but harbor a small grudge for not being able to sway the decision done to their benefit. As the meeting was coming to an end, one of the councilors, Neloth of House Telvanni, stood up, and addressed a matter to the King that no one had the guts to ask.

"My lord, I would like to confer with you as what are your plans regarding the Empire? Its been years since the Empire abandoned Morrowind, but it does not hide the possibility of them invading us again. Our agents within the Empire's ranks reveals that they've sent a messenger to our allies in Valenwood, it's unknown to us to what transpired within our ally's territories, an offer to secede from their alliance to us or an ultimatum for surrender, we are not sure." Neloth says, before sitting down.

"It's not the Empire that we should be worried about right now Master Neloth, its the forces on the east that we should be worried with. If what you say is true, the Empire has plans on the west not on us, if they wanted to us cut-off from our allies, they would have done it years ago, even before my arrival. If they plan to bring Valenwood to their fold, let them be, they have a better chance of surviving the invasion coming from the east." Oravos says, inciting the councilors to whisper with each other, taking guesses as to what he was saying. Oravos argued with himself in his mind whether he should tell the people now, but in his belief, the earlier they knew, the easier it would be for them to prepare.

"You see, more than two hundred years ago, I've left for Akavir after receiving a vision from Azura, of an invasion hailing from the east. I've sailed the treacherous seas to travel to the land where the invasion is supposed to come from, hoping to gain knowledge on how to stop it. I've spent years studying their art and culture, mastering their tactics and strategies as when the time comes, I can bring the knowledge back, so we can counter and defeat them." Oravos pauses for a moment before speaking again.
"I've played parts in their conflicts, assuring that they will continue on fighting among themselves, but with Azura's calling and revelation on what transpired on Tamriel, I had to return to my people. I was unaware of the suffering of the Dunmer, as I've been blinded by my attempt to stop something that was inevitable. Now, the people of Akavir prepares for the attack, while Tamriel remains oblivious to the real threat." Their king says, making one of the councilors of House Redoran to stand up.

"What do you propose we do then my king? you have our support to whatever it is that needs to be done. You've led our people against the blight and Dagoth Ur, you've led our people to the rebuilding of our lost country, we would, without a doubt, follow you once again to face this new threat." The councilor says while the others stands up, saying their own vows to the king.

Oravos nods as he hear them pledge their support to him once again. He turns to the Ashland Sentinels by the door, signalling them to lock the door as the council assess the necessary actions to be done.

---

City of Tear, Morrowind.

It was a rainy day on Tear, the city, a ghost of its former self was garrisoned by the forces of House Redoran, under the direct order of the King himself. Everyone on the city is armed to the teeth, always expecting an Argonian assault due to Morrowind's retaliatory incursions on the Black Marshes after the return of the Nerevarine. Ildoryn Sarano, Oravos' most trusted servant was currently overseeing the operation done on the city, as to see if they would need more troops to occupy place. Ildoryn stood on the upper walls of the city, watching the plains on the south as the fog blurred his view. He stared at the plains, trying to remember the first time he saw the place. He tries to project images in his mind of Argonians on the plains working on the Saltrice, making him chuckle as he always enjoyed the sight of the lizard people being clad in chains. The images however began to move, in a manner he did not imagine. One by one, the images he saw on the field came closer and closer, as if they were alive. Just as when he moved his head outward, an arrow whizzed by his left shoulder pad, almost hitting him.

"Prepare to arms! the Argonians are attacking!"

Path between Orcrest and Corinthe. Sometime around 11am.

"Men!" Started Ab'Farahn "It is Nearly noon! Ready yourselves! We Head towards the convoy!". Ab'Farahn mounted his horse and led the men down the path towards where they assumed the convoy would be. After about 20 minutes, they had finally found the convoy, and noticed the Imperials behind it. "You must be the Imperials that Emperor Triarius sent." Stated Ab'Farahn "Thank you for arriving. Our Mane can not thank you enough. We believe that the Bandits will attempt to attack from the two hills on the left and right of the road, about three miles ahead." He then explained.

OOC: (Please excuse me adding an OOC part onto my IC post. I'm just making sure it will be seen.) I'm not entirely sure how we are going to do the combat that may (Probably will) happen with the bandits... Any ideas?

I went over to the Elden root and I went and I touched the sacred tree to pray to the first trees. then I sent some of the bosmer to be ready to ambush the thalmor that go farther into the forest then the shore itself so they couldn't have any strategic advantage so they could attack our forest from deeper within, I gave them authorization to attack any thalmor that gets farther then woodhearth but to do so with stealth and from the trees and make sure they couldn't call for help. If we were to succeed with this I would have to be on guard until the aid for my people came. It is all I can do until I have the battle mages I would need against the altmers magic abilities

Tamrielic Gazette: "The finest reports read by kings and emperors, since 2E 137."

Sundas, 18th of Second Seed, 4E 205.

---

In this fine week, our journalists traveled far and wide to bring you these news.

Three Redguard merchant ships were seized off the coast of Stros M'kai by unknown parties. Local fishermen claimed to have seen Breton pirates, but this was not confirmed.

Several villages in Cheydinhal have recently reported werewolf attacks, villagers have found their livestocks brutally slaughtered and eaten. So far, no one was killed but some farmers have experienced close calls.

A group of skooma doped Khajiit wreaked havoc on the streets of Torval, some shops were destroyed while many citizens were injured. The perpetrators claimed that they were under Azurah's guidance to fight the "unenlightened".

Werewolf attacks

A small contingent of Imperial Watch officers have been deployed to reinforce the Cheydinhal guards, a contract has been placed in with the fighters guild as well as being a local bounty, 500 Septims per werewolfs head. There has been a clamour of mercenaries aiming to get in on this action and collect the bounty, and the fighters guild has sent two of it's best to deal with the contract. The knights of the Thorn have declared their commitment to destroying the Werewolves... Only to go back to drinking and sharing tales.

Elsweyr

The Rider looked down to the Khajiit and nodded "I see. Very well, you and your forces shall take the due east, and my own forces shall take due west and come upon the bandits when they least expect it. Do you agree?" The rider said as he turned his horse to the side

Valenwood

Alvor withdrew his blade from the Altmers neck, and the body fell to the floor with a thud, it's crimson blood running over it's pale yellow skin and dripping to the ground below, he turned to his left and nodded to the other Penitulus Oculatus as he lowered one of the other guards to the floor, then signalled to the forces across the now unguarded lake. The Imperial legionairres brought a wooden plank forwards from the Fort and placed it across the river, and the Legate rode over first, his forces following behind him and heading into the thick tree's of Valenwood, moving through it on their warpath with the Thalmor

The Emperor's Summit

The Emperor sat in his ships cabin, reading from 'Tamrielic Gazette' as the trip drew longer still, drinking from a glass of wine in the other. After today, he hoped he would be sailing south with a force strong enough to invade and take over Summerset Isle, destroying the Aldmeri Dominion once and for all and, hopefully, rebuilding relations with the other races of men. Maybe he'd even get the Bretons to co-operate for once. He almost choked on his wine when he saw that Breton pirates were suspected of raiding Redguard merchant ships. He double checked the paper to ensure he hadn't misread it, and sure enough it was there. That was that then, he'd have a few things to say to that bloody pirate lord if this turned out to be true. Werewolves in Cheydinhal? He trusted the Steward he had left in charge to do a good job with that, and preyed to the nine that there would still be Farmers to grow the crops by the time he returned. And Elsweyr... by Divines Elsweyr, he'd have to deal with that one too, probably, if the Khajiit didn't manage it. He'd have to do that after the war...