[IC] Tales of Tamriel

[Penny]

Chapter 1 - Black Light

18th Day of Hearthfire, Sundas, 4E 201

The wind blew in like a knife off the Sea of Ghosts. Kris pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, though the battered old legionnaires cloak and her leather armor did little to combat the chill. It was mid autumn, but in North Western Morrowind the first snows could only be days away. Kris trailed along the edge of the road, wrinkling her nose at the faint hint of sulphur from distant Vardenfell. She was a trim woman, Breton by her fine bone structure and pale eyes, though her skin had been burned tan by years of long marches under southern skies. Her hair was dark brown and cut short, though in the past weeks it had reached the nape of her neck.

It had been nearly a month since she had left Mournhold, cutting across country to the Gulf of Vardenfell and bartering passage on one of the small oddly shaped Dunmer coasters with their sharp triangular sails. Her quarry was headed for Blacklight, but he had gone the whole way by road. With the Legions absent for nearly a decade, the roads were decaying, rough and in need of repayment. With luck she would reach Blacklight ahead of him. Ryn Vorn had been an Imperial officer once, a captain in the Legion but he had traded that life, and the lives of his men for Thalemor gold. The peace might let him get away with that but Kristalia Courenne was damned if she would. Unconsciously her hand strayed to the hilt of her sword. She was close, she had to be.

It was nearly sundown when she reached the Narrows. The Dunmer farmer who had described it to her hadn’t exaggerated. The road clung to the side of a steep wooded hill on one side, while the other was a nearly vertical drop into a rocky defile. Atop the hill was a ruined watch tower. It lacked the familiar regularity of Imperial construction, dating to some point in the Dark Elven past, perhaps before even the Septims unified the land. Moss grew thick on its ancient stonework, and ravens cawed among its ruined battlements. The ravine also seemed to act as something of a natural boundry. Across the hundred foot expanse the vegetation seemed predominantly the fungoid forms of deeper Morrowind, while on this side leaf bearing trees were in the majority, their branches hung with a patchwork of autumn leaves ranging from yellow to dry brown. The road curved around the outhrusting bulge of a rock spur that fell down towards the bottom of the chasm. As she had hoped, it was the perfect place for an ambush.

Kris carefully climbed to the base of the ruins, pulling herself up the steep escarpment hand over hand. The thin trunks of trees provided good handholds, and wedging her feet behind their roots provided enough leverage. Only once during her climb did anyone pass on the road below, a farmer driving a wagon of produce towards the city, but his stooped back kept his eyes low and incurious. At the base of the edifice she found what she was looking for, a narrow culvert in the stone that once must have served as a drain. Years of neglect had choked it with dirt, but there was enough of a space for the slender woman to wriggle inside. Crouching with her back to the sky she whispered the words to the spell. Magicka surged through her body as she spoke the words in her mind and a small pink flame kindled between her palms. A single tongue flickered way to the south. Vorn was close. Very close. She let the spell collapse as triumph surged through her. After months of chasing him, after just missing him in Kerwin and Berle Hall, he was at last coming to her. Kris pulled her cloak tight around her body and settled in to wait.

It must have been two hours after sundown, when Kris jolted awake, her scouts reflexes pulling her from a shallow doze. The sky blazed with the unearthly glow of the aurora, pulsating shades of blue and green throwing the landscape into strange and queer relief. In the distance she dierned the sound that had woken her. The clatter of hooves on the decaying roadway. With a hunters care she crept to the opening of the culvert and drew a half dozen arrows from her quiver, pressing the points into the soil before her. That done she reached into her pouch and withdrew a small glass bottle and pulled the cork, draining its sour and thready contents. After a moment she felt her vision sharpen and her form blur. A cramp began to tug at her stomach, she couldn’t find all the ingredients she was used to in Morrowind, and some of the herbs they used here had unpleasant side effects. Well different unpleasant side effects to the ones from Cyrodil at any rate. The added nightsight was worth a little discomfort and she had worked through worse than a few cramps in the past. The potion was an old trick that the Legion taught its scouts. Though she knew both spells, the surge of magica might be detected by an alert foe.

The sound of hooves grew steadily along with another more intermittent sound, it took her a moment to recognise the crack of a whip echoing from the chasam wall. Her lips flattened into a frown, was Vorn bringing a wagon? If that were the case why would he be such a fool as to push his horses hard on this dangerous stretch of road. Like all questions, the answer would reveal it self if she watched and waited. With an abruptness that startled four horsemen rounded the southward bend. Three of them were tall slender figures dressed in black and gold robes. Thaelmor. Hatred and fear bubbled up in Kris stomach, cramping it far worse than the potion ever had. Thaelmor wizards had killed more of her comrades than she cared to remember, and there were three of them. The fourth man, was Vorn. He was tall blond and good looking, dressed in fine clothing that was going a touch threadbare at the cuffs. She could still see him laughing and joking with Titus and Ilmar, the night before he had betrayed the Legion. The urge to kill him boiled up inside her, pent up from months of tracking him. But no, she had to be smart if she wanted to survive. Behind the horsemen came a pair of Dunmer in shabby armor, one carried a large wooden pole with a rough rope hawser around it. The rope went back to a train of a dozen Argonian’s and Khajit connecting to each at a leather collar around the neck. Slaves. Another Dunmer was cracking a whip, more or less arbitrarily over the slaves heads. Even from her lofty vantage point, Kris could smell the sour reek of despair and fear.

“Talos curse it,” she whispered venemously, chewing her bottom lip. She had hoped to catch Vorn with one or two body guards, not with a contingent of Elven Wizards and a slave caravan. Part of her knew that she should let them pass, wait for another time when the odds were in her favor. That would be the Legion way. But the Legion was gone, and Vorn was right here.

The first arrow punched down through the leading elf’s collar bone, the steep angle driving the point down into the mass of arteries above the long. The sorceress fell backwards from her horse vomiting blood for the instant it took her heart to give out. Only the horses had time to scream before Kris’ second arrow took another of the Thaelmor in the belly, dropping him shrieking to the road clawing at his blood soaked robes. Chaos erupted below. The slaves screamed and ran, some pulling foward the others throwing themselves down against the The third wizard turned and lifted his palms towards the wooded hillside blasting out a stream of lightning that ignited brush and burst winter damp trees to fiery kindling. The wizard must have been aiming at random but by unhappy chance his first bolt nearly blew her head off. She ducked back into the shelter of the culvert and re-emerged as Vorn spurred his horse to a gallop, It leaped over the withing body of the gut shot wizard, shoes striking sparks on the uneven cobblestones. Kris loosed another arrow which flew short striking the horse in the spine. It shriek as its back legs collapse, the momentum torquing its body towards the ravine. Vorn stood in his steps like an Sentenliese guardsman and leapt free of the horse a moment before it slid screaming and screaming over the precipice to its death. Lightning flashed across the mouth of the culvert as the elf adjusted his spell, spraying Kris with hot shards of stone that sliced at her bear arms above her arches bracer. The spell must have illuminated the opening for the crackling energy continued to play across the narrow opening, bathing Kris in blue white light.

With every heart beat she could feel Vorn getting further away from her. Steeling herself she whispered a prayer to Dibella and leaped through the arcing spell craft. Leather burned and sizzled and she felt a sharp burn erupt across her left arm, but she was through and tumbling down the side of the escarpment. Like all Breton she had a natural resistance to Magicka but it wasn't something she cared to put to the test. Catching at trees she tried to slow her decent as she slid and skidded, rocks and trees tearing at her exposed flesh. For a miracle she kept her orientation well enough to hit the road on her feet. Her bow and quiver had been abandoned so she whipped out her battered sword. The wizard was only an arms length from her and she thrust her blade into his thigh in almost the same movement as her draw. The elf screamed and his spell collapsed, plunging the roadway into relative darkness. His horse, pricked by the tip of the blade, bolted along the roadway. Kris turned to give chase, heedless of the insurmountable advantage of the man on horseback, when a sharp stinging crack ripped at her left arm. The whip wielding dunmer guard jerked her towards him but she wrapped her arm around the cord and jerked hard. The dunmer stumbled forward and dropped the whip, evading her disemboweling stroke by inches. She thrust through his body as he clawed at a shortsword on his belt, sending him staggering back grasping at the greasy pink rope of his own entrails. The remaining two guardsman turned and fled in blind panic.

Kris’ lungs were burning with the exertion of the few minutes of frantic combat.She stumbled back towards the screaming Thaelmor and thrust mercifully through his neck, choking his screams off in a brief gurgle. She collapsed against the side of the embankment, bitterness and failure curdling her stomach as she glanced down the road that both Vorn and the wounded Thaelmor had escaped. She wanted to run Vorn down, but pursing him and his wizard ally was suicide. She sank to her haunches, wiping blood from a cut above her eyes, evidently taken unnoticed at some point in the frantic struggle. Her muscles felt like water and she badly wanted to relieve herself. Familiar sensations.

After a moment she registered the weight of eyes upon her and she looked up to find the slaves still roped together. The lead slave was trying to make his way towards one of the fallen daggers, but the rope connecting him to his more timid fellows prevented it.

“Talos curse me for a fool,” she muttered bitterly, working hard to catch her breath.

@POOHEAD189

[POOHEAD189]

30th Day of Last Seed, Turdas, 4E 201 (Weeks earlier)

Briefly Dax questioned yet again if this was worth it. Even with the element of surprise and distance between them, three against one was a risky proposition. However, the Argonian hunter had not gotten so far from home and survived this long by backing down from challenges or difficulties. He slowly reached down and touched the Amethyst pendant given to him by his father. "The Hisssst guide me." he muttered softly, and drew out his fine hunting bow.

Daixanos crouched within a copse of bushes to the south of the bandit camp, having the advantage of a higher elevation at the side of a small mountain rise. From the small amount of information the bounty script had given Dax, he knew there should be three of them around the northern edge of the pale, near the coast. The latter information had been correct so far, but he couldn't see all of the bandits from this vantage point. In fact he only saw one atop a rocky rise. An archer that had the misfortune of looking directly into the sun if he were to look Dax's way. If he had to guess, the other two were below him within a cave beside the frigid waters.

With a smooth and trained motion, Dax drew back the string of his bow, aimed, and let loose an iron arrow. The Hist had blessed him it seemed. The arrow had struck the man just below the neck, through the collar bone. He fell, hopefully without a sound. Quick reptilian feet had Dax hurrying to the left, his snake like tail leaving small 'S' shaped grooves in the dirt. After 30 feet, he halted behind a small tree, and waited. A minute passed, and peeking out he saw no commotion. He waited another minute just to be safe, before he began moving northwest as slow and cautiously as he could to get a vantage point to see the inner bandit camp.

He made it to the bottom of the slope behind a jutted rock, parallel to the water with the small camp. Two men spoke amiably, one moving about to toss some more wood into a fire that was slowly dying. It looked like the one handling the fire was a Mer, perhaps. It didn't matter, and he was thinking too much on this. He grasped one his vials, and placed the poison on the ground. He dipped his arrow head within it, making sure to coat it thickly. Dax nocked the Iron arrow and drew back his bow. Two against one weren't favorable odds, and he needed this element of surprise. The Argonian was just about to loose when the Mer handing the fire began to glow, and the fire suddenly flared brighter. Dax grunted as if struck, and didn't have the frame of mind to keep the string pulled back.

His prematurely fired arrow flung end over end into the camp, striking the rocky rise between them that the archer he had dispatched earlier used as a vantage point. He ducked behind the rock again, hearing raised voices and strange sounds he could only deduce were magic being casted. Why do they have to have a spellcaster, Hist curse them. He knew they would be upon him in no time, but thankfully they still did not know his exact location. He quickly dipped his next arrowhead into the poison, drew back his bow string, and stood tall out of his rocky hiding place. The Nord that had been sitting roared and charged when he spotted Dax, hefting a greatsword. The Mer behind him was glowing no longer, but seemed to be moving his hands intricately. Not having anymore of that filth, Dax thought to himself. The Nord might be the more immediate threat, but he was at least something Dax wasn't uneasy around. He fired a wild shot due to the intensity of the situation, the envenomed arrow hitting the mage in the knee. The Mer cried out in pain and fell.

It was all Dax could do to take out his Battle Axe strapped to his back, whipping it forth to collide with the greatsword in a great shower of sparks. The Nord was stereotypically strong and tall, but Dax was burly for an Argonian, matching his opponent's strength initially. Both weapons flinched, and the two warriors stepped back and gauged their opponent's style, each looking for an opening. Dax gave a hiss as the man growled, the wind whipping past them into the coast of the inner sea. Dax needed to play this defensively, and as the Nord moved, so did he. The Argonian backstepped and slashed at his opponent's exposed midsection. The Nord had been trying for a thrust, but hesitated and backstepped himself. Dax stepped forward and sent his Axe in a devastating downward chop. The Nord sidestepped and the Axe bit into earth, sticking for a moment. Dax's barbarian opponent took this time to swing at the stuck Argonian. Instead of yanking his Axe out in a furious attempt to survive, he ducked behind his Axe's upraised hilt, holding it steady as the greatsword blade collided with it. Dax's tail slipped around as the Argonian spun, whipping the Nord's hip in a stinging strike. The man sliced in a block as a reflex, paingfully cutting off the end of Dax's tail. The Argonian lashed out without thought, his extended claws cutting a small slice across the Nord's throat.

The wound was shallow, but it was still a throat strike. The bandit clutched his throat, dropping his weapon and stumbling back as blood slowly seeped onto his collarbone. Dax took no time in retrieving his Axe, yanking it out of the earth, before beheading his opponent to end both of their miseries. He wasn't going to be barbaric and take back the heads, thinking the hands would suffice. However, one was now severed and he needed some proof that he had done this deed. With a sigh, the hunter knelt down to check his tail. On first glance, he knew it wasn't severed deep, and would grow back. It wasn't anything he'd not dealt with before, and the pain wasn't blinding.

The Hist was smiling on him today, for when he ducked to check his tail, a ball of flame flew straight over the kneeling hunter. He could feel the heat as it passed, and his reptilian head whipped up to see the Mer holding himself up unsteadily beside the rock, breathing heavily. The poison seemed to be in full effect, and he would soon die. It seemed he was determined to take Dax down with him. The very magic he could see being summoned sent a shudder down the Argonian's spine, and he sprang toward the Mer, Axe being hefted as he closed the distance shortly. His blade found the Mer's neck just before the wretched bandit could loose another spell.

Within the hour, he had the heads packed into his skin sack. He needed to carry the sack in his hands, now being too heavy to be strapped to his belt. He checked the chest the bandits had for some gold and loot, before making his way back toward Cheydinhal, and Ashev. He hoped he got back before nightfall. Making a camp out in the cold was never ideal, and with his recent nightmares of Blackmarsh.

Hours later.

The weight of the Gold felt good in his clawed hands. The weight of his duty to his people was a tad less satisfying, though no less important. In fact, much more so in Daixanos' way of thinking. "No, I am not going southwards. I am going to Morrowind." Dax replied to Jod as they walked toward the bar together. "And I do not know why such a journey is perilous, other than the damned Dumner. But I will..." His words were ominous and hinting, and the Argonian gave a nod to Jod as the man spoke. "The steward was so happy with your kills that he gives you a hint. He said these lowlifes have been troubling his hold for weeks, and it was no small task destroying them for one man. You are someone who gets things done. He has procured a manifest of Dunmer comings and goings to and from Blackmarsh. Our spies tells us slavers ships are bound between your home and Morrowind almost daily, and many reach Vvardenfell."

Dax opened his mouth, unnerving the man with his bestial, blank look as he contemplated the information. "Then that is where I shall go," Dax croaked.

---

18th Day of Hearthfire, Sundas, 4E 201

Daixanos nearly ran on all fours, his serrated claws on his feet digging into the ground as his hands grasped for any tree or rock that would speed his ascent up the rise. He knew the caravan was close. The Hist had guided him, and he had seen them from afar not four miles ago. With any luck and quick feet, he would find a way to overcome the slavers and free those in captivity. He was confident of his hunting bow, even if he could not make it to melee range just yet. His thoughts, however, clouded in confusion when calls began to rise from somehow up ahead.

Soon, dreadful magicka erupted, and a tree cracked as if rent asunder by a giant to his right. It was all he could do to roll out of the way before the great oak hit the hillock and began a slow roll down the hill behind the kneeling Argonian. "Cursed sorcery," he breathed, though his determination had not faltered. He would see his fellows freed, mage or not when he reached the top. Only a dozen paces and he would rise and...

The commotion had stopped.

After a moment's hesitation, that only spurred him to make it as soon as possible, and once he rose above the crest, he was greeted with a curious sight. A woman on the ground, injured and speaking softly as an Argonian, chained as the rest, reached for a dagger he could not quite reach. "Hist!" he cried, scrambling past gnarled roots and making it to the caravan. The shackled slaves gasped when he appeared, showing some life in them yet. He believed they had likely never thought to see a fellow Argonian armed so far north of Blackmarsh.

"Fear not, I have come." Dax said, unsheathed his large axe. A khajiit held up his hands in a display, talking in the cat-like double speak. Argonians and Khajiits did not always get along, but they had been enslaved as his people had. "This one has the woman to thank! Help her as you help us, yes yes?" That caused Daixanos to slow to a stop, and he regarded the woman coldly, having believed not moments ago she had been a slaver.

After a moment, he slowly hissed an "I shall"
@Penny

[Penny]

Kris came unsteadily to her feet, lifting her blood smeared sword in a loose grip. Her muscles ached but the adrenaline in her system was enough to get her ready to face a new threat. The argonian looked oddly black in the aurora light and his axe was menacing. Fighting an opponent armed with a heavy weapon on a narrow defile where there was nowhere to avoid the broad sweeping strikes such weapons favored was not something she would have been excited about even if she was fresh. Fortunately it didn’t seem that murder was on the Argonians mind.

Taking a step forward, Kris crouched down and plucked the fallen slavers knife from his belt and tossed it underhanded to the lead slave. The Khajit caught the weapon and began sawing at the thick rope that bound him. The slaves seemed to be recovering themselves, talking in quit whispers as the Khajit cut himself free. The had been taken in Blackmarsh and Elswher and sold cheap in the slave markets on the coast. Such slaves would doubtlessly be valuable in the ebony mines of the far north, where they would be condemned to a lifetime of brutal and back breaking labor. Kris wondered if Vorn had been the owner of these slaves, buying them to turn a quick profit on his trip to Black Light. If so she was pleased to cost him a small fortune even if he had escaped.

“I’m no friend of the slavers,” she declared in her Breton accented Imperial, making a gesture with her blade to the crumpled body of the man with the whip. Her nose wrinkled at the smell of opened entrails and burnt hair odor from her own body. She wanted very badly to vomit but that was probably more to do with the aftereffects of the potion as her vision dimmed down to its normal levels.

“I don’t know how energetic the garrison at Black Light is likely to be, but a Thaelmor and a former Imperial officer escaped to bring word to them of what happened here. It probably isnt a good idea to linger very long.” She bent down and rifled through the pouches of the first Mer she had killed. There was a small purse of coins, a book and a number of scrolls and letters, she pulled the Mer’s robes free and tossed them to the shivering slaves, before tying her cloak into an improvised napsack for the rest.

Throughout the process she kept her eyes on the armed Argonian, wary in case he made a sudden rush. Curiously she glanced down into the ravine, but it was too dark to make out the shattered body of Vorn’s horse far below. By now most of the Slaves were free, though they still seemed to be milling around rather than taking definite action.

“Who are you?” she asked the Argonian. He was no slaver, perhaps a family member on a quest to free one of the slaves? In any case he was brave to travel this way alone, and risk ending up in an ebony mine himself.

[POOHEAD189]

Daixanos gave Kris a black look, clearly too tired and agitated that he had not been the one to free the slaves. But with a low rumble in the back of his throat, an alien sound to any race but the Saxhleel, he realize she was not to blame for any true slight against him. The hunter's eyes flicked back and forth between her and the slaves. The lead slave, the one had that shown he still had some spirit, stepped forward toward Dax.

"Dax, you should not have come." he said to him. He was a leaner Argonian, his scales a vibrant moss green with webbed fringes framing his head. They both hissed at one another in some strange ritual-like greeting. He continued as if the small exchange had not occurred. "We were prepared to meet our fate. If the Hist-"

"The Hist does not wish this!" Dax growled, stepped forward almost threateningly. His tail lashed, and while the end point was missing, to Kris it would be quite apparent that no one wanted to be whipped by the appendage. "I have been sent by them. You must survive and return to Blackmarsh. Go down the hill and hug the hills of ash. Continue south and do not stop until you are in swamp land. You will be safe."

While most men and mer did not have the capacities to see much emotion in Argonian faces most of the time, it would be clear this Argonian was at least taken aback, if not in shock. "You will not come with us?" A part of Dax desperately wished he could, but he also had more Ebon blood to spill. He grabbed his comrade and shoved him forward, the slighter Argonian stumbling, catching his balance on his tail.

"I am expendable, Tsleeixth." Dax declared. "You are not. But I do not plan on dying today. Go!" He pointed at the other slaves, gesturing them to follow. "Flee, now!" It was practically a threat, and the others nodded, taking what supplies they could off the corpses and hurrying to the crest of the ridge that hugged the sheer drop of the ravine. Dax watched them go, making a strange sign to his friend Tsleeixth before he, too, was gone.

A light wind carried a faint howl over the road the Breton and he stood on, making the ash laden sky even more eerie than one would usually perceive. Begrudgingly, he turned to the woman. The beastman regarded her in an indecipherable fashion, and he spoke. "You have my thanks, man." He meant the race rather than the gender, but the awkward word choice was lost on him. "I am Daixanos, and I am in your debt. I do not know why you have come, but I plan on continuing to aid those fleeing by making a distraction. One that ends the lives of many Dunmer before I flee east. If you wish, you may aid me. If not, fair weather on you, Landstrider."
@Penny

[Penny]

Kris had always been a little put off by Argonians. Growing up they had been a rarity, and even in cosmopolitan Cyrodil they had been reasonably rare. The Legion hadn’t discriminated, but the balance of the troops were humans rather than the beast races. This one seemed to be on some sort of a quest to free the slaves. That was fine with Kris, admirable even but she didn’t particularly want to be involved with it.

“Well Daixanon,” she began, taking hold of the mer corpse by both arms. Straightening her legs she pitched the body over the precipice and into the chasm. The body tumbled out of sight into the rainbow illuminated darkness. She was about to wish the Argonian well and be on her way when a thought occurred to her.

“Wait you want to cause a distraction?” The gear whirred in head as she puzzled out the possibilities.

“I know the man who owned these people, his name is Vorn,” she explained.

“And I’m willing to bet he dosen’t know one Argonian from another…”

[POOHEAD189]

Her proposal piqued the reptilian's interest. He had a powerful rage simmering under the surface for whomever was responsible for the enslavement of any Argonian, much less his cousin Tsleeixth. He looked at her and paused, realizing the implications of what she was asking. Daixanos was usually a quiet, stoic Argonian who made an honest living hunting, be it game for skins or heads for bounties. But there were three things he truly hated.

Magicka unnerved him. He did not know where it came from or what fueled its power, but it was not the Hist and therefore Alien to him, even if others of his race used the mystical arts. Dunmner slavers were another, and by extension, being chained himself. Even in a ruse, he knew he would be agitated and on the brink of exploding out of the chains. But her idea had merit, and he could swallow his comfort for a short while as he played the part.

"He likely does not," Dax sibilated, and inclined his head, agreeing to the ruse. "Collect what you will, we must go before long if our distraction is to aid my kinsman and the othersss..."

He stripped off his breastplate and bracers, and his axe and bow. He placed the items in one of the smaller wagons of the caravan. The beastman kept a dagger within the folds of his clothes just in case, but it was carefully concealed. "This Vorn...are you here for him?"

There was a low rumble in the distance, and across the horizon, fiery bits of debris fell into what had to have been the sea of ghosts.

[Penny]

Kris considered the question. The freed slaves were in the process of tying the rope that had bound them to one of the stronger looking trees. Tsleeixth seemed to be taking charge of the process though he frequently glanced at Dax as though seeking guidance. With in a few minutes they were climbing down into the ravine. A few seemed frail and exhausted enough to be at risk, but the mixture of fear and hope carried them down anyway.

“Vorn…,” Kris mused as she watched the progress of the escaping slaves. The name was bitter on her lips, especially given that a few minutes ago she had the chance to kill him after months of pursuit and she had botched it. If she had only sent the first arrow into him… well the Thaelmor might have killed her if she hadn’t struck hard. The Legions had learned those lessons the hard way. Still it burned on her soul that he had escaped.

“Yes I came to kill him, that's why I did…this,” she made a gesture to the blood spattered roadway, though it seemed a lot more inconsequential with the bodies cleared away. Belatedly she realised she hadn’t fished the arrow from the Mer’s body and cursed the loss of a good shaft for now reason. The septims she had taken from her victim would replace the shaft, but any scout lamented the lost of ready resources.

“He used to be a Captain in the Sixteenth, the Sixteenth Legion,” she explained, as she fastened Dax’s breastplate over her own armor. The Lizardman was sufficiently large that the plate fit without difficulty, though it took some fiddling with the straps before it hung anything close to comfortably. It also made her look more like a mercenary, though she doubted any of the Thaelmor could have described her from the brief glimpse they had of her. Vorn was another matter, but it was vanishingly unlikely that he would be leading a party to recapture slaves. Vorn was a snake, not someone to lead from the front with sword aloft.

The last slave was now out of sight, so Kris looped the rope around Dax’s wrists and tied a rudimentary knot. It would be easy enough for the Argonian to slip if he was of a mind. She supposed if the guards checked closely enough they might object, but she doubted they would judge her based on her knot craft.

“Towards the end of the war we started finding ourselves outsmarted, ambushed and out guessed. At first we thought it was bad luck…” she grimaced in disgust. How many simple Legion funerals had she attended for people who had been sent into battle on Voss orders.

“We were fighting in the Colovian Highlands, it was touch and go but we had to defend the approaches to the Imperial City,” Kris explained, lost in the memories of those desperate days battling the seeming invincible Aldmeri Dominion.

“One night Vorn comes to us, orders us up and into marching order, claiming its a surprise offensive. We march away and half an hour later the Aldmeri cavalry ride right through and roll up the whole Imperial line. The bastard sold us all out. We put it together afterward, the way he always had money, they way he always seemed to be away on some mission when it really dropped in the pot. He had gone over to the cursed Aldmeri months ago…” she paused to spit into the ravine as she walked along behind her supposed prisoner. So many dead because of Vorn, because they had all trusted their captain.

“We got disbanded at the end,” she went on as they rounded a bend, making their way along the road to Black Light. Nearly half of the Legions had been disbanded following the hateful peace they called the White Gold Concordate. Proud units just turned out without pay and told to go to homes they hadn’t known in years.

“But I heard that Vorn was still around, living it up, and I figure I owe it to all those who bit the Septim to even the score.”

[POOHEAD189]

Dax's scaley skin crawled being bound, even so gingerly. But it was needed, and as he listened to her story, he was glad he could help this woman. A traitor, particularly one who simply did it for luxury, was worse than swamp scum. Even more despicable, he was working with the Thalmor and the Dunmer. "Your plight reaches me, Landstrider." he remarked, testing the strength of his bonds one last time to make sure he could break out of them if need be. "Let us see he does not live to see the dawn."

They had a few miles to trek to make it to the next outpost Kris reported, having scouted a bit previously before her assault on the caravan. Stripped down to rags, Argon looked like a slave being sent to an arena. His dark red scales, intermingled with forest green at the edges of his powerful shoulders and saurian snout, gave him a menacing look. It was only heightened by the crown of horns jutting out of the back of his head.

He did his best to keep his head down to appear meek, tail staying low to the ground and dragging in a snake-like slither as Kris prodded him forward with his own weaponry. The dirt path became more well trodden once they passed the next rise, and below them they could see a well tended outpost, with two finely constructed scythe-like towers standing amid older ruins and rubble from ages long past. Even now they could see two Dunmner at the tops of each tower, and another two running back and forth as those above shouted out calls.

Behind the towers, the roads became paved, though there looked to be no town or city. That was likely past the next foothills of the great mountain of fire. Though there did seem to be a bit of activity within the ruins, likely makeshift guardsmen quarters. Kris would see a familiar horse tied to a post past the towers, knickering about as if it sensed the guard's unease. A part of him simply wished to change plans and pick off the guards from the copse of gnarled trees to the south of the ruins.

No, there were too many to kill effectively. If he had to guess there was a dozen in all, give or take with Kris' nemesis Vorn. Her would need to fight them all at some point. Better to do it in surprise in the middle to sow as much confusion as possible.
@Penny

[Penny]

The dunmer soldiers called in alarm as they caught sight of Kris and the Argonian. There was a clatter of steel and the creak of bowstings being drawn. Clearly the arrival of the Vorn and the wounded Thalmor had raised their alert. Kris raised her hand above her head in what she hoped was a friendly guesture. She hadn’t considered that she might be filled with arrows by nervous guards, but she supposed that even if she had it wouldn’t alter her course.

The gates between the two towers swung open on squealing hinges. A half dozen dunmer carrying torches rushed forth. They wore a mismatch of armor and carried a variety of weapons but each of them wore a cloak of russet and scarlet and bore the flaming sigil of Black Light. Kris gripped the rope that tethered Dax and kept her other hand raised in a peaceful gesture. She had known dunmer in the legion, but they were by and large renegades and exiles. The natives of Morrowind were considerably touchier, clanish and proud. She did not care for them over much.

“Drop your weapons!” the a grizzled sergeant called in accented Imperial.
“And fuck you as well,” Kris called back cheerfuly, as Dark Elf soldiers ringed her with steel.

“I captured this slave,” she explained, thrusting Dax forward but not releasing the rope.

“The city has a bounty for their return does it not?” she called, refusing to be intimidated by the glowering soldiers. In truth she did not know that, but most cities and towns she had visited in Morrowind had such a reward. The sergeant seemed to hesitate for a moment, before barking out an order in his own tongue. The soldiers sheathed their weapons with obvious reluctance. They were escorted into the base of one of the towers. The room was small and spartan with a floor of dried straw. A rough looking table and a trio of cots lay against the far wall. Pikes were propped against the wall in careless profusion along with bundles of wickedly barbed arrows. The dunmer had clearly been preparing to go after the escaped slaves, but hand’t been willing to rush off without preparation.

“You captured this slave? Where,” the seagreant demanded gruffly. Kris made a show of glancing around the room and taking her time to answer.

“I did, I was coming from the west over the mountains. Ran into him and a bunch of others heading west towards the border.”

“There were a dozen or so, this one came at me with an axe, though he didn’t seem to know how to use it,” she told the dunmer.

“You ran into a dozen slaves and came back with one?” the grizzled elf sneered.

“The others ran off into the western foot hills. I figured one bounty was better than getting my skull stove in by a Khajit with a branch in search of a second.”

[POOHEAD189]

The sergeant seemed unsatisfied, but he also wasn't about to stick someone who brought back in one of the slaves. The other dunmer in the room looked intently on Kris and Dax until their sergeant gave them a dismissive gesture. For his part, Dax kept his head down and his breathing soft, though he did make a few agitated noises. One would think they were made by an injured slave when in fact the entire ploy was grating on him, but other than that he never broke character.

Kris pushed Dax none too gently. "Go into the corner, dog." she said, and he complied as she and the other Dunmer began to discuss the prices on his head.

He checked his bondages one last time, gently tugging to make sure they were still loose in case one of the Dunmer got any ideas. Luckily, after the minutes of discussion had gone by, nothing seemed to amiss. Though that had him on edge too. Plans often went awry after you assumed they were going to go well.

Kris thanked the sergeant, who didn't seem overly welcoming but he gave her a grunt in acknowledgement and sent her on her way. She had recieved word one of their guard wagons was about to head into the settlement, lightly guarded and loaded to carry back supplies to the station later that day. Whatever they were going to do, they had better do it quickly. Dax was here for a distraction for his kinsman, not this Vorn, even if he would shed no tears for the traitor's death.

Within a minute, Kris was prodding him into the wagon outside amid the ruins. Dax complied without complaint, and he gave her a look when he turned to sit.
@Penny

[Penny]

Kris climbed up into the wagon beside Dax and a pair of dunmer soldiers. She winked at him surreptitiously but it was hard to know what was going on in that reptilian brain. He just had to trust her to get him close enough to Vorn. Whips cracked and the wagon jolted down the rough cobblestones towards the city.

Black Light was a strange city to Kris’ eye, a fusion of Dark Elf and Nord architecture, ringed by high walls of black volcanic basalt. Pennons of red and brown snapped from the tall angular towers, but she didn't know or care enough about the Dunmer nobility to particularly care about who was on top in this place. Predictably, the streets were quiet, with most of the population having turned in long since, but a number of soldiers bustled about evidently getting ready to go after the escaping slaves. Signs creaked on their chains in the slight wind and a few dog howled at the disruption to their routine.

The wagon titled up a long boulevard and began to climb a shallow hill towards the center of town. The houses rapidly grew grander, simple houses and working class taverns becoming opulent town houses and expensive stores. Guards were more evident here, stirred by commotion that might mean thieves about. More than once Kris thought she caught eyes watching from the rooftops. Evidence that the city’s thieves were likewise being inconvenienced this night.

The wagon pulled up in front of a stone fenced townhouse, sharp spikes of wrought iron summonted its ten foot wall and impressive gates were shut. Behind the gate stood a pair of Aldmeri soldiers in golden mail, curved sword sheathed but eyes keen.

“This is the place,” one of the guards growled and Dax and Kris climbed down. The gates swung open to admit them and the wagon clattered of without another word. Kris took the opportunity to lean close Dax.

“Once we kill Vorn we will torch this place,” she whispered. The greatest fear of any government was not enemy attack, or riot or even famine. Fire could sweep through a city in hours and destroy everything within the walls. Even a small fire would occupy the entire attention of the guard for hours, the property of the nobility being far more important than a few run slaves. Her message convey she passed by the scowling Aldmeri, working hard to control a hatred she had learned during years of losing battles.

“Keep your eyes open,” she advised him as they passed inside.

[POOHEAD189]

The terrain was even more desolate and harsh than the other areas of Morrowind Dax had the misfortune to travel through. No wonder the Dumner needed slaves. No workers would immigrate here willingly. Then again, he supposed Blackmarsh was almost as inhospitable to most landstriders. One of the Dark Elves up front smacked Dax on the back of the head, grinning fearsomely. "Behold, beast! The city of the House of Redoran! The greatest warriors in all of Morrowind dwell here. You will enjoy your stay."

As the cart bumped along, they passed another slave cart going the opposite direction through the south road. A figure obscured by a cloak was awakened by the carriage's jostle, and one of his fellow slaves remarked. "Hey, you're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Aldmeri ambush, same as us, and that thief over there. Damn these Dunmner!" The rest of the conversation faded into the background as Kris and Dax were drawn through the gates.

Inside, the scene shifted abruptly. Harsh ash and rock turned into beautifully carved architecture, with straight lines and lush, bulging curves to grant space for windows or archways through doors and the like. There must have been some sorcerous trick to keep the ash from falling into the city, because while it did have a blemish here or there, it was far too clean for its proximity to the mountain of fire. The gate fed into a storefront, and the pair were led by an officer to continue on for a block. Within the cobblestone street, Dunmner citizens and workers stepped out of the way as the wagon they had just hopped off progressed. A child clutched her mother along the left side of the street, but there was mostly men out and about.

Kris led Daixanos forward, the Argonian moving obediently, still remaining submissive in manner as they waded further into streets until Kris found the turn she had been looking for. A compound rose out of the building pattern like a boulder among rocks, and guardsmen argued vehemently within, even through the windows it was evident as they shook their fists and ordered one another about. No wonder the child had been frightened earlier. Turning the corner, there was a small alley where a compartmented corner connected to the backdoor of the compound, where Vorn likely was. Dax's tail fidgeted excitedly as they slowed to a stop. "Give me my axe and let us finish this." He said to her, his voice low.

He would rather burn the place down rather than searching for Vorn. If they simply burned it down, Vorn would likely be dead. But he could respect her wishing to be certain he perished, and once the Argonian felt the haft of his axe, there was a palpable feeling of trepidation in the air. Dax would stay behind her, at least initially. Seeing an Argonian armed, they would attack him without delay, but they might have a slower reaction to seeing her.

"Let us say hello." Kris said.
@Penny

[Penny]

Kris pushed forward towards the small door set into the wall. From inside she could hear men talking excitedly though they were too far to make out the words. She stepped carefully to the door and found it to be locked. Cursing she looked around. There wasn't much cover but it was late and there were few people in the street.

“Keep an eye open,” she told the Argonian and then drew a set of lockpicks from her pouch. She had never really leanred the trick of it, a Legion scout was meant to range the wilds, but after the Legions had been disbanded it had been hard times, and she had fallen in with some rather disreputable sorts. She hoped the knowledge would serve her. It took nearly fifteen minutes, with the increasingly impatient Dax making it no easier, before she finally managed to shift the tumblers and the door creaked open.

Inside the door was a short stairwell that led down into a kitchen. It was still hours till dawn and the only illumination was from the coals of a cooking fire in a large stone chimney. The walls were lined with stoneware jug and herbs and joints of smoked meat hung from the ceiling. A rotund human in a dirty smock lay sprawled across a bench snoring quietly. Beside him a large hound opened an eye and fixed the newcomers with a speculative stare. Licking her lips Kris reached slowly up and pulled a small ham from one of the hooks. The dog followed the meat with its eyes narrowing. With a small smile she tossed the ham softly the ground. The beast stood and shook itself, then stalked over to the meat, sniffing it a couple of time before biting at it. Letting out a breath Kris and Dax crept to the far side of the kitchen where stone stairs led upwards. The former Legionaire wasn’t afraid to use violence, but it wouldn’t have been right simply to murder a sleeping chef.

The stairs led up to an empty dining room, decorated with elaborate tapestries and gilt candelabras. There were lanterns burning in a room beyond, though the dining room itself was quiet. There seemed to be a great deal of commotion coming from outside and Kris risked a peek through one of the dust clouded windows. She could make out Mer in the gold armor of the Thaelmor’s soldiery forming up in a broad cobbled courtyard. More damned elves. Whatever Vorn was mixed up in was obviously bigger than she had thought, but she hadn’t come here to re-fight the war, just to end it.

Through a large door was a cavernous reception foyer, fronted by large wooden doors. At the rear of the room stood an impressive set of stairs that led upwards to the second level. Now and again servants or soldiers bustled past though none seemed to be too interested in the dining room.

“Ok,” she said whispering to the Argonian.

“We are going to move fast and not stop, with any luck we can get up the stairs without being spotted. Then we find and kill Vorn, he’s an Imperial with a goatee, then set the place on fire. We can barricade the stairs and get out over the rooftops.”

It didn’t sound like much of a plan even to her own ears, but the time for subtle stragem was past.

[POOHEAD189]

Landstriders couldn't appreciate just how highly the Saxhleel prized well cooked meat. As Kris tossed the slab of ham to the hound, Dax grabbed the line of smoked beef with his scaled hand to keep it steady. Even at such scalding temperatures, he held it firm (but only for a moment) as he plucked off a stout chunk of beef to be consumed. Argonians were more like Men and Mer than they would likely admit, but there were still oddities in their anatomy. Kris would see the 14 ounces of beef be devoured in merely two bites, the lumps of meat bulging in the hunter's throat.

As they moved into the next selection of rooms, Dax made sure to keep his tail free of the ground. The scraping of it loud to his and his new companion's ears, even if the hound and the slumbering boor paid no mind. Up the stairs into the dining room, if Daixanos had hairs on his skin they would have stood on end. There was something about lavish wealth that was distasteful to him, and being in the belly of the Dunmer beast had him on a wary alert.

"A sound plan," He murmured, his reptilian face unable to show if he was kidding.

Truth be told, he wasn't. In the wilderness, you did what you could, with what you could. If this was the best they could do, then it would do. He turned his gaze at Kris, a bloodletting simmering behind his eyes. He gripped the haft of his axe, the broad head silently moving to bear in front of him, only the glint from the light of a distant window giving any indication they were there. "Are you prepared?" He asked, sounding disturbingly human when he spoke quietly.

Once he received her nod, he moved in two parts. First, his yellowed eyes switched from her to the door, and then he moved. His gait was much like what one would imagine the large flightless birds of Akivir would adopt when chasing after prey. He impressively made it halfway across the reception foyer before someone spotted him. The dunmer woman pointed, unable to voice a warning so frightened and bewildered was she.

The next patrolman saw him next, and then he saw the table and the ceiling in whirring succession after his head had been cut from his shoulders. Daixanos shouldered the flopping corpse out of the way to topple, and he felt the crack of lightning behind him as Kris let loose a spell, the scent of ozone materializing on his tongue. The Argonian only felt it but a second, his gait was even more suited for the stairway. Another guard rushed down the spiraling steps. He had enough time to draw his blade before he was tossed end over end behind Daixanos. Kris would make it the stairs to see a dunmer tumbling down it, and she let him pass before ascending.

The second floor was made of curiously carved timber and ebon steel. Bits of the metal work flowed into cresting waves along the pillars and ceilings, giving a sinister air to the inset laden architecture. The antechamber had four of the dunmer soldiers, two of them who were just getting up from a curious board game with bone peices, and the other two standing at the ready, though they didn't seem to expect a sudden rush by ones like Daixanos and Kris.

Dax was good but he wasn't skilled enough to confidently beat four trained soldiers, particularly not in their element. Instead he didn't think of a stratagem bar playing the predator, placing all of his strength in a frenzied rush at the first guard. The Dunmer, trying to shake off his shock at Dax's appearance, made a draw cut with the unsheathing of his curved sword. Scales were parted from Dax's snout, but it didn't save the Dunmer from having the side of his breastplate chopped into, the metal thinner at his flanks.

Behind them in the next hallway were a small number of opulent offices that held the same decorum, where ledgers and papers of ownership were likely stashed. At the tail end of the hall was Vorn, who spilled his blood red wine at the sight of one of the soldiers brutally murdered not ten paces away. The Dunmer he had been toasting with drew back, aghast. "To arms! An uprising!" He called, drawing a serrated dagger from his ornate sheath.
@Penny

[Penny]

As Vorn drew his dagger Kris felt an uncharacteristic red mist settle over her mind. After months of tracking the former Imperial officer, after her failed attempt on the road, this was her chance to eliminate him once and for all.

“For the Empire!” she roared and leaped towards Vorn, slashing backhandedly at one of the Dunmer soldiers, more to clear him out of her path than out of any conscious desire to attack the mer. The blade bit into the elfs arm, parting his mail and cleaving him to the bone. Blood spattered across the wall as she twisted the blade free and leaped towards Vorn. A door flew open and smashed into her face sending her staggering back with a flash of white pain. The Thaelmor she had seen on the rode strode from the door raising his hand to point at Drax, arcane energy billowed around his fist as he gathered a bolt of lightning to strike the argonian dead.

Kris scrambled to her feet, gripped her sword with both hands and swung it in a downward arc with all her strength. The blade chopped through the Mer’s wrist with a sound like a butchers cleaver. The gloved hand tumbled to the floor with a spurt of bright blood. The elf screamed and staggered backwards. Kris drove her boot into the door smashing it back into the wailing Thaelmor and sending him tumbling out of sight. Vorn struck with his dagger before she could recover, the blade slicing across her forearm with a blaze of pain. She screamed and fell back a step, cuting a clumsy arc through the air that forced Vorn to jump back to avoid being gutted. Hoping that Drax could keep the remaining two soldiers at bay she lunged after her former commander. Vorn parried the thrust with his dagger and then turned and bolted past Drax and the soldiers heading for the door.

“No!” Kris yelled, in pain and frustration. Blood ran freely from her nose where the door had hit her and from the dagger cut. She charged after Vorn hitting him from behind in a flying tackle that smashed him against the ballustrating. The impact drove the breath from Vorn’s lung and sent Kris sword clattering to the floor below. With a twist of her wrist she tore the dagger from his hand as her other hand grabbed his hair and yanked his head back.

“Wait!” Vorn screamed, “I serve the Empire!”

“So did I,” Kris grated and then sliced the dagger across his throat, spraying blood out over the railing as she felt the blade grate across his spine. She held on for a second longer, listening to the gurgling of Vorn’s breath for a moment until his body began to relax. With a yell of triumph she shoved his body over the railing, watching it turn a half rotation in the air before hitting the marble floor with a meaty thump. It was over.

[POOHEAD189]

The Dunmer's armor sundered, he fell dead, bleeding profusely onto the wooden floorboards. The Argonian spun, attempting to slash with his axe again to keep the other soldiers at bay but it was stuck fast within the dead enemy's armor, and Dax ducked a swing of a sword that bounced off one of his horns on the crown of his head. He did what he could do, and on instinct that was biting. His teeth sand into the wrist of the Dunmer that had struck his head, piercing skin and flesh, causing the mer to scream and draw his dagger. Daixanos caught the wrist, and let go of the arm to strike at the Dark Elf's neck, bowling him over as he severed the soldier's jugular with his large canines.

As the Dunmer's cries and struggles faded, Dax heard the other two swordsmen behind him had run into the other room, clearly going in to try and attack Kris. Her victory over dispatching Vorn keeping her preoccupied at the moment. The Saxhleel lifted his bloody maw away from the torn throat of his enemy and he cried out to her. "Landstrider! Enemies!" before he himself tore off toward the main entrance door, where the two were still in sight headed in the direction of the balcony. He thanked the Hist that he had strung his bow before they had come, and he slid the weapon off his back and took an arrow in his hand, sliding it down the string and loosing it in one fluid motion.

The arrow flew between the two, but if his cries of warning hadn't reached her ears, the arrow flying out from inside onto the blacony surely did as the arrowhead struck the railing, causing sparks from the steel's collision. Dax took another arrow from his quiver and aimed, firing not a moment later and managing to hit the lagging Dunmer in a groove of his cruel armor, causing him to stumble and gasp. The other charged forward tho and engaged Kris in combat without warning, hacking at her savagely.

Dax's eyes fell on the dead guard he had first dispatched, and he put his bow up, placing a powerful foot on the breastplate as he yanked the axehead out of its side to regain his battle axe. He was going to assess the situation further, but shouts below and footsteps echoing on the stairs told him all he needed to about the situation. He suddenly dropped his axe and picked up one of the corpses, using his corded muscles to lift it over his head.

As the first guard to respond rose to the last step, he was hit in the chest by a flying cadaver, knocking him and his fellows back down the stairs in a heap. It would at least buy them some time, the Argonian wasting none and sprinting towards Kris to aid her. As he approached the balcony, he saw the floundering guard he had shot. The hunter ended his life with a chop of the axe, the head rolling from of his neck.

[Penny]

Kris paired the guards stroke at the last moment, her sword transmitting the jarring impact up her arm. The dunmer screamed at her in his own langauge and launched a savage series of cuts at her head and neck. Kris could feel herself slowing, the overwhelming desire for vengeance sated causing her body to begin to relax. This was a terrible time for that to be happening. She barely managed to avoid his riposte, skipping backwards and delivering a clumsy cut which he batted aside with contemptuous ease. The Dunmer laughed and closed in for the kill. Kris surged forward, taking him by surprise and slipping inside his reach. There was no room for a clean strike so she smashed the hilt of her sword into his face feeling his nose break beneath the leather wrapped hit. The elf jumped backwards and drew back his sword to finish her. Kris desperately tried to bring up her blade but she knew she was going to be too slow. There was a flash of steel and a sound like a melon splitting as Dax split the Dunmer’s head from crown to jaw with a vast overhand stroke that sprayed Kris with slimy gray matter and shattered links of chainmail.

“Time to go,” the Argonian hissed.

“Right,” Kris agreed, gasping to try to fill her lungs. There were still guards trying to make their way up the stairs so they ran back through the halls till the found a window. Kris climbed out onto the roof of what might have been a carriage house with Dax close behind.

“Before we go,” she gasped, “I think I owe you a fire.”

A dozen mansions blazed as Kris and dax slipped down to the streets. Kris didn’t have alot of skill with destruction magic but she was a Breton and she knew the theory. A few bolts of flame into thatched roofs and priceless wooden mouldings got things blazing nicely. Kris was so weary after the battle and the magic she could barely move but there was no safety so long as they were in the city. Already the alarm claxons were ringing constantly calling the watch to help try to contain the fires Kris had started. It wouldn’t be long before one of those watchmen spotted a Breton and an Argonian and started asking questions. The made there way down hill towards harbor, the sea water already reflecting the fires above. There were several ships in harbor including several longships from Skyrim which Kris hoped would carry them east for the little bit of coin she had left, or failing that take them on as crew to work their passage. That depended on them getting there before the harbor closed of course.

The land flattened as they reached the bottom of the crag on which the city was built and the arcitecture became more akin to what Kris was used to from Colovia and the heartland of the Empire. The rooves were still steeply pitched to ward of snow, but the waterfront seemed somehow less alien. Quite a number of people were out on the street gawking at the fires but no one seemed to be looking for them specifically. Kris closed her hand and whispered the scouts spell, allowing her magikca to restore her stamina enough to keep moving. Finally they reached a tavern with a sign depicting a one eyed horker.

“In here,” she whispered to Dax who, despite the spell, was all but carrying the exhausted Breton.

[POOHEAD189]

When they had entered the tavern, Dax had walked in hooded and cloaked, doing his best to keep the hissing out of his voice when he asked for a place to sleep the night. He had set Kris down at the closest table, so as not to draw attention to how beat and out of breath she was. The Saxhleel wasn't very well versed when it came to societal subtleties, particularly for Landstriders. But he knew to be clever enough to keep himself less than conspicuous, at least when he cared to be.

He didn't think the innkeeper believed that he wasn't argonian, but the least he could hope for would be for the man and the regulars to not see his telltale scale color. The color of dried blood was usually a marker for him in other areas, even in his native blackmarsh. He knew he would stand out with it in Morrowind as well, even upon the outskirts of the province.

Minutes passed, and he (as well as Kris) could finally rest within one of the rooms. Daixanos crouching upon his clawed feet, gnawing at the slices of dried beef he had packed like a savage beast that had not eaten in days, holding it greedily to his maw. His powerful tail flicked back and forth as he devoured the food, and once he was done he opened his mouth, and it was hard to decipher it was to breath or if he was smiling.

"We have survived another day." He said, standing to his impressive six feet in height. "A successful day as well. There are many dead Dark Elves in our wake."

There was a lively quality about the Argonian. Even without being able to tell his facial expression, it was clear he had the energy to do much more if it meant the slaughter of more Dunmer, despite his fatigue and wounds. He flexed his clawed hands, and his tail smacked the ground with a thump. With an effort, he calmed himself and cleared his throat, perching himself by the window to gaze into the fading light of the overcast day.
@Penny

[Penny]

Kris fell into a doze, for the first time in many years her dreams were empty of the events on the battlefield at Colovia. Purged away as she had hoped by the death of her long time quarry. She hoped that all the legionnaires who had died there would rest a little easier.

She woke sometime after midnight. Scouts learned how to tell how much time had passed, though no one had a good explanation for exactly how the trick was accomplished. Dax’ scaly hand covered her mouth in warning not to cry out. Instinctively her hand went for the heavy knife at her hip but she managed to catch herself.

“They search for us,” Dax hissed.

Kris, who had fallen asleep in her armor stood up feeling the painful spots where the leather had pressed into her skin while asleep. The Argonian gestured to the window and Kris could see torch light out in the street. Peering through the dusty pane she saw a squad of livered soldiers head into a tavern with weapons drawn leaving a half dozen men on the street to keep watch, arrows knocked in their long bows and red eye scanning.

“Shit,” Kris commented and glanced up at the city above. A faint red glow still lit the night sky, indicating that the fires had not yet been extinguished. She could feel the distant pull of magicka as the Dark Elf wizards used heir magic to chill the flames from existence, accompanied by nod doubt the vast majority of the garrison hauling buckets of water. That meant that Dax’ people had probably made a clean escape, with no one worrying about slaves at a time like this. She didnt waste time pointing out the obvious fact that if they were found here they were worse than dead.

“Lets go,” she told the Argonian grabbing her pack and whispering a spell. Cool healing energy flowed into her body, easing her aches and relaxing her muscles. Her mother had been a healer and had taught her the basics, though her daughter, wild and rugged had prefered running through the woods to lessons. The slipped wordlessly down the stairs and into the taproom. Quite a few of the denizens were awake, many smoking pipes or sipping at ale and casting nervous glances at the street. They might be reasonably sure they weren't the ones being hunted, but no man has a clean conscience when the watch come calling.

“Out the back,” Kris whispered and they moved to the back door. Pausing to whisper another spell Kris seemed to soften, chameleon like into the background and then slipped through the door. As she had expected a dunmer soldier stood at the end of the alley, though his eyes were out into the street at the tavern currently being searched. Drawing her knife she slipped down the edge of the alley until she was only a few feet behind the oblivious elf, then, with the speed of a striking tiger, she clamped a hand over the Dunmer’s mouth and yanked him into the alley, her knife sawing across his wind pipe and turning his attempted scream into a choking gurgle. She lowered his slackening corpse to the ground and then peeked out into the street. The remaining sentries hadn’t yet noticed their fellows dissaparnce.

“We have to move quickly, down the street towards the docks,” she told him. The both set of at a quiet run, moving as swiftly as they could while keeping quiet. It felt eerie to be in plain sight but there were very few other options. For a moment Kris believed they might make it but then a shout sounded behind her and a arrow buzzed spitefully past her ear. She skidded around the corner and down onto the stone docks, where long jettys thrust out into the inky black ocean. As she had several craft were in the process of getting underway. Ship captains had no cleaner consciousness than tavern patrons afterall.

A hue and cry erupted behind them as a half dozen soldiers reached the corner. A sleepy looking dark elf in stained livery stirred from his slumber just in time for Dax’ axe to take his head off with a sweep. At the end of the closest dock a long ship was casting off its mooring lines.

“Run for it!” she shouted and bolted for the ship. The crew gave up their attempt to undo the lines and grabbed for axes, cutting the heavy ropes just as Kris and Dax reached them. Steeling herself for an axe thrust she leaped into the ship. There was no deck and she plunged into the thwart with crash landing in a tangle on a pile of rope. There was a second thud as Dax landed beside her, a little more gracefully. She made to get up but a fur clad nord with a tight expression and a rusted axe pinned her to the deck with a foot and raised the blade, pausing to cast a questioning glance back at a red beared giant who stood at the tiller.

“You there, hand over those fugitives at once or I’ll have you skinned alive!” snarled an aristocratic Dunmer voice. The red beared man shook his head at the crewman and the pressure on her chest eased as she was allowed to stand. The ship was already sliding out into the ocean two horse lengths from the docks and gaining.

“Tell your mother to go back to fucking horkas!” the Nord called sounding for all the world as though he were wishing the officer a pleasant morning. The crew howled with laughter, adding their own insults impressive both in their creativity and in their flavor.

“You are aiding the escape of criminals!” the Dunmer screamed, “our ships will hunt you down!”

“The day a fucking dark elf sea cow can run down Halfdan son of Haifiar, ill cut off my own fucking skin!” the Nord yelled. Arrows whizzed through the air but the Nords merely ducked beneath the shelter of the gunnels. Men grabbed oars and began to stroke, driving them farther and faster away from the docks. Within moments the arrows merely splashed into the water astern. The Nord, Halfdan apparently, jumped down from the steerage board and thumped over to the two stowaways.

“And just what the fuck to do you two think you are doing?” he demanded, his voice was loud but good humored.

“Working passage,” Kris replied, “at least I hope so.”

[POOHEAD189]

2 days later...

Despite the Dunmer's words, no pursuit had followed. Perhaps it was because they were far too busy with their own problems further inland, or perhaps they could not follow quickly enough to catch up. Either way, the Nords were fine sailors and had dropped Kris and Dax off on the western half of the White River not hours ago.

The wind howled like a haunting aberration. It bit the skin, and even the trees looked as if they had been cut into. Dax growled low in his throat, their current predicament unrelentingly poor to his sensibilities. He imagined Kris and other humans would at least consider the landscape beautiful, but to the Argonian it was a white hell. The fact that snow was simply soft water was small measure of comfort to the reptilian. Had he not been clad in a dark cloak of thick wool, he would have found it unbearable.

Horses whinnied from within the stables as they passed. The fighter wondered how he could hear any noises through the gale they were in and noted the information for later. Ever the hunter, he looked for any edge in combat in every circumstance. Most were unnerved by his manner and cold look, but Kris seemed to not mind. The only thing she likely cared about was his lashing tail that had a tendency to trip her up if she walked too close, and in the snow that reached halfway to one's knees, Kris was near enough to touch his shoulder.

Daixanos' booted feet touched something hard beneath, and he looked up to see he had bumped into the first step on a small stairway that led to the gate of Windhelm. Even through the weather, he could see a massive mammoth's skull hung over the enormous, powerful gates. Daixanos exerted himself further, as much as he wanted to lie down and accept slipping into a frozen coma. Stepping up, he heard a distant voice above them crying out. "Two at the gates! Cloaked and hooded!"

Of course we are, we're freezing to death Dax thought, but he merely grunted irritably. Shuffling, he crested the top of the stairway and saw the doors to the city creeping open. He could see nothing past the gates, save the silhouettes of buildings and four figures awaiting them inside. Daixanos wasn't perturbed and continued to march forward, revealing the figures to be four, burly nords in mail armor. They bore shields with the sign of the bear, and longswords held easily in their off hands. Beards flecked with snow seemed grown out of their steel helms.

"Who are you, travelers?" A heavy voice asked, piercing the flying snow. "Answer or face the wrath of the Stormcloaks."