Avatar of CronicCrystalis
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    1. CronicCrystalis 11 yrs ago

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Aria would find herself met with the sound of someone's bones breaking, followed by a very loud scream. When she came to investigate, she'd notice one of the cultists had been burned beyond recognition, and the other was face down on the ground with Cronic stood firmly on the back of his right leg with one foot, having stamped on it so hard it broke the bone.

"Now, you gonna tell me who you work for or am I going to have to start breaking other bones?" Cronic said, keeping his eyes fixed on the cultist in case the crippled idiot tried anything, clearly not in a good mood.

"Avoid giving me bullshit and maybe I'll kill you quickly." Cronic said, flames in both hands now.
"...Define "Off"." Zerenis said, as he began looking around, as if scanning for something, mainly out of suspicion than anything, taking care not to drop the goods they just picked up.

"Asides from an odd sensation in my head, nothing seems out of the ordinary." Zerenis said, turning to look back at Izumi. While Zerenis did show signs of the "Gift" Izumi had, he had yet to fully awaken it. Hell, he probably didn't even realise he had it.
"I know this might seem like I'm being paranoid, but are the new units ready for basic testing yet?" Cronic said, as he stepped through the airlock into the Archangel-class ship, Escutcheon, slowly making his way to the bridge.

"...Something felt... Wrong, while I was travelling back to my ship through the cradle. I can't quite put a finger on what, but it's making me nervous. Maybe I'm just over thinking things, but I can't shake the dread that the ETs are going to launch a surprise assault soon." Cronic said, as he sat down in the captain's seat.

"We've not had any movement from them since Maddox's costly skirmish, and that's all the more reason to be nervous."
At the time the two cultists burst in, Cronic's coat was set aside onto a chair, the vest he was wearing underneath in plain view, and he'd only just applied the potion that would treat the burn onto his arm. Unluckily for them, Cronic had managed to somehow hear them, The Thu'um having caught his attention, and the tell tale sign of magic flaring up in his hands, since he left his sword back at Odd Jobs.

"Bone Masks, Robes. Arcadia, take cover behind the counter." Cronic said, as he looked at the cultists, having a shock based spell ready to be cast in his right hand, and a ward on standby in the other. Not wasting any time, Cronic unleashed a burst of lightning at the cultist closest to him, which would quickly arc to his companion, and likely catch both off guard. Not stopping to pick up his coat while the two cultists were reeling from the spell, he threw up his ward to block any spells they might throw at him, and charged towards them, slamming his shoulder into the closest cultists and knocking them outside once he'd closed the gap.

"Can't even treat a burn wound without someone trying to kill me. You picked the wrong person to piss off." Cronic said, the electricity in his right hand being promptly replaced by fire, and his face reflected his mood; Extremely annoyed.
"Well, sometimes even the simplest bit of planning can make or break a job. Both before and during the job. Ok, Cyrodiil it is. I'll start making the arrangements, after I get this burn on my arm treated. Not exactly keen on having an untimely end because of a painful distraction." Cronic said, as he then rolled up the map and stowed it away in what looked to be a pretty sturdy backpack, before taking out a bit of paper and writing down things on the list.

"Food, supplies, healing potions, and so on." Cronic said to himself as he then stepped out the door, heading towards the market. First order of buisness was Arcadia's cauldron, in which he'd see if Arcadia had anything for burn injuries, even if it's minor.

"Better get everything set up quickly. The sooner we get the client past the border, the better." Cronic thought to himself, as he began browsing Arcadia's wares.
"We'll need to find the quickest route to the border. Maybe look into transportation too, as a means to speed things up. Possibly a few extra weapons as well. A spare blade never hurt anyone." Cronic said, before taking out a map of Skyrim and unrolling it in front of him.

"Whiterun's just about dead centre of Skyrim, and our client came from Windhelm. This rules out the possibility of trying to slip him into Morrowind, as the Cultists could be anywhere around that area." Cronic said, as he set the map down on the table.

"So the most reasonable, quickest, and potentially the most predictable option would be to try and slip him out the southern border, into Cyrodiil or Hammerfell. Alternatively, we could try and trick them into thinking we're headed that way, but then head north west to Solitude and then drop him off in High Rock. It'll take longer, but it's potentially safer. The main problem are the cultists, but there's the possibility of other factions like bandits or Thalmor slowing us down long enough for said cultists to catch up and attack."
"It's news to me. Closest thing I can think of are either the Forsworn over near Markarth or potentially a cult of Daedra Worshippers or Necromancers. One of the three." Cronic said, before looking over at the man, going to take a seat behind Aria.

"...If you want us to help you efficiently, we need you to tell us what you know about this cult. What they look like, how they fight, and so on. Without that information, we can't expect to put up a decent escort if we don't know what to look out for. If they managed to force the so-called "Dragonborn" to have to retreat, they have to have seen combat before. Either that or they heavily outnumbered said Thane." Cronic said, Before looking at Aria.

"We don't know the exact specifics of what we potentially could be dealing with here. Discussing how much we'll get paid for this job can wait, at least until we get all the information we need."
Activity's pretty slow as-is. Getting the up-and-coming Impulse Pilot up to speed couldn't hurt. Helps us keep the ball rolling, at least.
"If this "Bastion" proves to be as safe as you claim, then we are probably going to be there a while, as I suspect collectively we've got just as many questions as I'm sure you've got answers." Cronic said as he caught up, now running alongside Alice, still carrying the unconscious person over his shoulder, but occasionally looking to the sides as he ran.

"Let's just hope we get there soon. Call me paranoid or suspicious, but I fear we're being watched." Cronic said, all the while, remaining completely unaware amidst the trees, a scarcely visible humanoid silhouette stood watching the humans run past with purple eyes, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

"...If only you knew, boy. If only you knew." The figure said to himself, as he began to pursue the band of humans while remaining out of sight.
"Yeah, but the Thalmor don't really do much to make people think otherwise of the Altmer. So elves like the ones you knew are probably few and far between." Cronic said, losing himself into his own run-in with the Thalmor. He was on a road between towns at the time, lugging around a pack full of supplies and that heavy ass bow like it was nothing, when next thing he knew the Thalmor came out of nowhere, swiftly surrounding him and spitting false accusations. He tried to explain to them otherwise, but they didn't care. He snapped back to reality as the door knocked, and Aria told him to get the door.

"Wouldn't mind an easy job after fighting a bloody dragon." Cronic said, before he got up and opened the door to the Odd Jobs building, before speaking to whoever happened to be knocking.

"May I help you?" Cronic said, just keeping it short and simple for now.

"Please be an easy job."
"I make no secret I'm not a follower of the 8 divines the Thalmor regard highly. Akatosh, Stendarr, Kynareth... I've got better things to do than spend my life praying to gods. Needless to say, and I don't know how they came to think about this, the Thalmor came to the conclusion I was a worshipper of Talos, and they weren't keen to hear my side of the story. Needless to say I've been on the shit list ever since, having had to fight my way out of that encounter." Cronic said, looking at Aria setting the journal and quill aside while he waited for the Ink to dry.

"Hence why I typically use an alternate name if I have to pass through somewhere I know there are Thalmor agents operating. For what good it'll do. It's helped me dodge arrests by the Thalmor on some occasions, but on others, not so much." Cronic said, as he sighed.

"Someone needs to knock those damn High Elves off their bloody perch."
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