LadyTabris

The Elder Scrolls: Chapter's Dues [character-driven, mission-based mercenary RP]

Me

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

24th of Second Seed, Anvil

Alarm bells were blaring.

Anifaire had been walking through town. She had no real destination, but sitting in her borrowed inn room had gotten stale enough to send her out into the unknown. She was just beginning to worry that the inn was out of sight; she'd wandered all the way to the city walls. That was when the alarms began.

The crowd she was in began shuffling faster. A woman cried out a boy's name. She shuffled through the crowd, trying to reach her young boy. Anifaire watched the scene, bumping back and forth, in a stupor. The Dwemer, again? She couldn't do that again.

The chattering of people around her melded into one noise. She struggled to pick up any details about what was happening. The Dominion was here, she heard. The Dominion. Why is that making everyone run? she thought. She didn't comprehend it. They must have arrived to help.

The Altmer slowly made her way outside the crowd, trying to collect herself. She couldn't understand why her people brought such fear, but it was the same way when she went to the University. People believed her to be some sort of Thalmor agent and they hated her for it. What have we done wrong?

If the Dominion was there, her sister may be with them. Anifaire wondered if they would bring her home, or help her get funds, or help her go back to the University. She missed her sister dearly, heart clenching at the idea of seeing her again. She'd always admired her. Alindril had known exactly what she wanted, and sought it out from the beginning of her life. Anifaire had always been uncertain, always following her parents' leads.

Until Cyrodiil, anyway. She stepped farther away from the crowd, closer to the city walls. The Altmer didn't feel in danger; her own people were here, after all. She aimlessly touched her pouch of gold. She did that every so often, since acquiring it. It brought her an unfamiliar sense of pride. Money had never been an object to her. She rarely held physical coins, and spending was never a question. If she needed something, or wanted it, it was hers. Few questions asked.

Things were different after the Imperial City was taken. She'd been thrown out, a refugee, refused service at the bank, and had to survive through living conditions she'd never considered before.

Her few coins, truly not a lot to live off of, felt like a fortune to her.

She wondered if, after all she'd been through, she could return to her parents' home. She would live the same daily life: study magic, the Dwemer, if she had any time, but she was out of translations to work on, eat, sleep. Perhaps her parents would arrange a marriage, and she would repeat the same lifestyle in her husband's home. She would be comfortable. She wouldn't be standing in an unfamiliar city, at the edge of a panicked, bustling crowd, trying to decide if that coloured patch of roof in the distance was the inn she was staying at.

"Eh! It's an Altmer!"

Abruptly, she was grabbed by the shoulder and spun around. A large, brutish woman was gripping her far too tightly. Anifaire struggled to pull back, pushing at the woman's arm, but she held tightly.

"Get off me!" she squeaked.

"You're one of them - the Dominion thinks they can just come into my home and do things their way, eh?" the woman growled.

"I've- I've got nothing to do with them!" Anifaire shouted, finally springing free of the woman's grasp. She stumbled away from her, quickly jogging a few steps away. Flustered as she was, she wasn't looking in the right direction and bumped directly into someone - someone armoured.

"Scum," the voice grumbled. She was shoved backwards, toppling onto the ground for lack of balance. She looked up to find a lightly armoured Altmer, definitely Thalmor. She gasped, trying to get back up, but the man stepped towards her once more. She stumbled, still on the ground, to put space between them.

"I'm not-I'm- you're- I'm from Auridon," she stuttered.

"Disgraceful," he sneered. "A defector. Look at you." She thought about her ragged clothes, undone hair, and choked back a sob. She was pathetic.

"I- stop, leave me alone!" Anifaire made it to her feet with that last comment. Flustered and nervous, she hurried back into the crowd of people. As she made her way through, she took a quick glance backwards to see if the man was following her. He wasn't; clearly he had other priorities.

She hurried through the crowd before she really considered her destination. When she found herself looking down the street at the inn where she'd been staying with some of the expedition group, she thought for a moment that she should be surprised. She wasn't. Somewhere along the way, she'd found some sliver of a place there. The uncomfortable thought squirmed in her head. That group was leaving for Hammerfell.

Images of the Dominion-hating woman and the cruel Thalmor agent flashed through her mind, and the idea of staying in Anvil didn't sound comfortable.

She trudged on towards the inn.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Income

---

Anvil, 22nd of Second Seed

---

Anifaire woke up in the middle of the day. She'd taken full advantage of the room Brynja had given her and slept well through the night and the following day, dozing in and out of sleep, finally fully relaxed. She took the time to fully wash up, even washing and hanging her clothes to dry. She scrubbed everything she owned, leaving herself to wait, nude, until they dried, but it was worth it. She finally felt as though she didn't smell like a horse.

By the time she left her room, it was dinner time. She didn't have a cent of money for food and wasn't about to go asking for anyone's generosity, so she sat with a mug of water - she wasn't sure if she was supposed to pay for it or not, and she was afraid to find out.

The idea of remaining in Cyrodiil didn't seem as daunting as it had the previous day. A portion of her fascination with the Dwemer invasion had returned, but fear still overwhelmed her. Would they continue to expand, or were they after something else?

She wondered if she should've remained in Skingrad. The Dominion was there, taking care of the people. There would be Justicars. Those people, she could trust to know her name and see her home. Still, she'd left. The group she was with was... kind. People here had been generous to her, and every time she'd left the group's company, strangers had harassed her. She felt safer around them. She touched the cloak she wore; she still thought of it as Alim's. It was kindness. She had never expected it.

She felt as though she hadn't been thinking clearly since the Imperial City attack, but waking up this morning was as though the shock had finally worn off. She felt like she was waking up from a dream, snapping out of a stupor. She wondered where Durantel had gone off to. Would he help her return home? He was from Auridon, she thought.

Return home to Auridon. Where she would sleep in her room, at her parent's home. Each day, she would practice magic, which she isn't good at. She wondered if she would ever improve.

She gazed into the bottom of her mug, and tears stung her eyes, sliding silently down her cheeks. She stood up quickly, retreating back to her room so that no one would notice her sadness. The emotions she'd always been told to avoid were beyond being hidden.

Once her tears finally dried, she felt no less lost. She watched people do business from the room's window, wishing she had such simple concerns. She corrected herself. Did she truly want a boring life? She'd lived one, and she left it.

Would she really return so quickly?

Yes, she thought. She was a coward.

---

Anvil, 23nd of Second Seed, Dawn

---

Anifaire woke at the break of dawn feeling restless. She left before breakfast, the in still quiet, and made her way for the port. Fortunately, Anvil was a bit easier to navigate than the enormity of the Imperial City.

Ships were already loading up their supplies and trade goods. Sailors had early mornings. The closer she came to the docks, the more people she saw. There were fewer ships than she'd expected, but nonetheless she began searching around for someone in charge.

The Altmer pulled back her hood, this time wanting to be noticed for what she was. Altmer had a reputation for being good with magic, after all. She doubted she could live up to it.

"Excuse me," she started, too quietly, and to no one in particular. She stood at the center of a crowd, uncertain of who to speak with.

"Excuse me," she said louder. "Are there any ships heading towards Auridon?"

A gruff looking man bumped into her, knocking her backwards farther into the crowd. The bustling people jolted her in every direction.

"I need to get to Auridon. Is anyone going that way?" she tried.

"I can make your cargo lighter to carry, so you can load your ship faster," she called louder. No one responded to her. She got bumped back and forth until she found herself at the edge of the crowd, trying to get somebody's attention as she went.

When she finally found herself on the edge, she sighed in defeat. She had no idea how to find the right people to talk to. She'd never even hired a carriage driver on her own, let along found board on a ship.

A tap on her shoulder surprised her. She spun around to find a gruff looking Breton woman, with a tall, feathered hat. She almost jumped back, intimidated by the woman's appearance.

"Can you really do that? Make cargo lighter?" she asked.

"I... can," Anifaire replied. Can I? What if I fail?

"Look, sweetheart, if you can do that, I'll pay you gold for it."

"Do you know if any-" Anifaire began, but the woman interrupted her.

"Darling, you're not getting a ship to Auridon today. No one's trading that way. Everyone's unhappy about what happened in Skingrad."

Unhappy about Skingrad? Anifaire wondered, but the woman continued to talk before she could ask.

"My ship's over this way. You want the gold or not?"

Anifaire hesitated, but she hadn't eaten in a day, and she wasn't about to turn down such an offer.

As soon as they arrived, Anifaire was put to work. She did spell after spell, featherweighting cargo boxes as the woman's sailors hurried to load their supplies on board. To her great surprise, the sailors, while rough-looking, were extremely grateful for her help. One of them even shook her hand, though she wasn't glad for it, since he seemed rather dirty.

The ship left before any other in Anvil, ahead of the crowd, leaving Anifaire at the water's edge with a bag full of gold.

She made her way back to the inn, feeling proud of herself. It was the first time in her life she'd done something for herself. She'd never been paid before, nor had she needed to be.

Somehow, the plate of chicken and potatoes she ate upon her return to the inn tasted better than anything she'd eaten in her life.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Anvil, 21st of Second Seed

As the group broke off from each other upon their arrival at Anvil, Anifaire set off to do the thing she'd been thinking about since they left Skingrad: getting the hell out of Cyrodiil. Anvil had a port, and though she'd done much of the last portion of her journey to the Imperial City on land, she knew there were options to travel by sea. While there were dangers to either route, at the moment, travelling by sea sounded like a relief. As did the idea of returning to her parents home.

The Altmer followed the main roads through the city the best she could, hoping to find some kind of market or city centre where she could access her parents' funds at a bank. Luckily, like most cities, it was less confusing than the Imperial City, and most large streets led to the same area as long as you were heading the right way. In not too long, Anifaire found herself at the centre of a bustling crowd, squinting around at signs trying to find a bank.

Once she spotted it, a large sign with a chest full of gold out front, she started pushing her way through the people. It was difficult; though tall, she was clearly a thin, willowy woman, and people didn't move instinctively out of her way as they would have in Auridon. I don't look like a noblewoman anymore.

She finally reached the edge of the crowd, bumping into a lightly armoured redguard who scowled at her before walking away, and she breathed a sigh of relief. The bank steps lay before her. She climbed up and headed inside.

There was only a handful of people inside, so it didn't take long for her to reach the front of the line. The teller behind the counter was the only one, though there were armoured guards at the back of the room. The teller was an older Imperial man, with a pointy nose and a receding hairline.

"And how can I help you?" he asked, his eyes scanning her up and down. Her clothes were ratty and dirty from repeated wear and travel, and no doubt he could smell her from farther away than she'd care to admit, but she stood tall, as would have been expected of her, and confidently answered his question despite the look of disdain on his face.

"I am Anifaire Mirlinde and I would like to make a withdrawal from our family accounts."

The man squinted at her and turned to pull out a large manuscript. He leafed through it faster than he could be reading the pages and as the seconds passed, Anifaire grew concerned.

"Is there a problem?" she asked.

"We do not have any dealings with a Mirlinde family."

Anifaire leaned into the counter, concerned. "Of course you do. My father, Aronar Mirlinde, has dealings across the world. He's an important man in Alinor, a political leader."

"Oh, in Alinor, you say?" The man's voice was filled with false joy. "And my mother's the Empress." He shrugged. "Next!" he called, passing her over.

Anifaire didn't leave. "Wait! It's true! My family is important to Thalmor leadership, ask anybody!"

"Thalmor, is it?" The man snorted. "Get out of my bank."

"You have to help me, I need to buy passage back to Alinor, or at least write a letter! I have nothing," she exclaimed, but the teller had waved over one of the guards. He wore heavy plated armour, and his head covered by a full helm. He grabbed her by the arm and hauled her along beside him as though she weighed almost nothing. The other patrons in the bank backed up to allow him to pass by, eyes wide at the scene being made.

"Thalmor bitch," she heard someone say, but she wasn't sure if it was the guard or a patron.

He pushed the door open and tossed her, literally, down the steps. She tripped over her own feet, unable to catch herself, and tumbled down the three stone steps, landing in a heap at the bottom.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded. "I come from an important family. We have funds in every banking company in the Empire! Shouldn't you all be more thankful - after all, didn't the Dominion just help you guys in Skingrad?"

The guard was already back inside the bank by the time she'd finished her sentence, but as she moved to stand up, trying to dust herself off, she noticed another set of steel boots step in front of her. She looked up, startled, met with a city guard standing far too close to her. Someone behind her grabbed her by the arm and pulled her roughly to her feet - another guard.

"Oh, from the Dominion, are you?" he jeered.

"Looks like a street rat, to me," the other remarked.

"Nah, nah, ya hear her voice? She's definitely Summerset Isles."

"I... My father is a prominent Tha-" she cut off, stepping back as the guards blocked her in. Suddenly, she wondered why she always found herself in these sorts of positions. While she'd first assumed the guards would be there to help her, she certainly didn't like the looks they were giving her.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

the 5th I’d Second Seed, At The Skingrad Refugee Camp...

When the Altmer met up with their previous companions again, Anifaire was surprised to find she was glad Alim was there, though his safety didn’t come as a surprise. Despite the murky, muddy ground and humid weather, Anifaire immediately knelt beside their small campfire, without saying anything to Sol or Durante’s; she didn’t have the energy, but mentally made note to thank them after just a quick nap...

Anifaire woke a few hours later, curled by the fireside. It wasn’t yet dark, and it struck her that she had no tent of her own, like most of the others had set up. She looked around for someone she knew, but found most of their group gone or otherwise occupied.

She stood up, her dress dragging in the mud and her cloak half wet. Disgruntled by her state, she struggled to find a comfortable way to wear the cook she’d been given, but ultimately hung it up beside the fire to dry.

Her stomach rumbles violently and she recalled the thin rations she’d been eating. Was there somewhere here she could get food? Hopeful, she headed out of the camp area, worried about getting lost but attempting to note landmarks as she went.

She tried to stick close but eventually reached the edge of the camp. Finally, she saw a man rolling up a couple
Of tents and gathering gear from a campsite. Was he leaving? She couldn’t tell. His items appeared to be an eclectic mix, gathered rom different parts of the camp.

Anifaire approaches the gruff looking man, notic My that there was a pot of something on the fire by where he was getting the tents. The dirty Imperial finished rolling up the tent before turning to
Look at her.

“Wha’ do ya want? Food?” He eyed her, and she was grateful the mud obscured any quality her dress may have been before the journey.

“Yes,” she cleared her throat. “And I need a tent.”

“Oh do ya?” He stood back, arms crossed, and nodded his head at her neck. Confused, she looked down. She was wearing one of her necklaces - gold, sapphire, and emeralds. Her hand reached up to touch it. “That real gold?”

“Oh course it is!” Anifaire blurred out, offended. The man smiled and held out his hand. Anifaire gripped the necklace. Her mother had given it to her. She frowned, but unclasped it and handed it over. He grabbed it happily and shrugged.

“Take what ya want, it ain’t mine anyway.”

“Hey!” Anifaire exclaimed. “You can’t just sell what isn’t yours!” But the man was already leaving.

Huffing in irritation, Anifaire swung the tent over her shoulder and grabbed the cooking pot of - perhaps slightly old 1 stew. It was heavy, and she had to walk slowly, eventually almost dragging the tent behind her.

---

“Was it the Bosmer family with the sick boy?” Anifaire muttered to herself, trying to navigate through her landmarks back to her group’s campsite.

She’d turned herself around a few times, panting heavily in an attempt to carry everything. The stew was cold. She looked around, trying to distinguish the ragged tents and sock people.

“The hanging pole!” She realized, noting a pole she had noticed before, which had rope and linens hanging from it. “That means.. left?” She guessed.

She turned uncertainly in the direction and he foot caught on the tent she was dragging. She tumbled over into the muck, the pot of cold stew flying out of the pot and spilling all over her and the ground. Disheartened, she turned to look at the tent, which had caught on a stray log and torn wide open.

Her efforts for nothing, Anifaire left the empty pot and torn tent where they were. The mud and water clinging to her clothes made her shiver as she continued.

Dragging her feet along the muddy pathways, by the time Anifaire found camp, she was wishing for a change of clothes and new boots.

Having reached the camp as empty handed and empty bellied as before. Anifaire grabbed her half-dry cloak and wrapped it around herself next to the dying fireside.

The flames were almost entirely gone, but she wasn’t sure how to rekindle one. She lifted the poking stick left beside the fire and shoved it into the coals. The wood on top tumbled down and a gust of smoke rose above.

Anifaire looked around, finding a bit more wood and tossing it on the coals, but no flames suddenly appeared as she had thought they might.

“Oh!” Anifaire exclaimed. I can use magic to do it. She’d forgotten, as she’s never used her magic for this type of purpose before.

Conjuring a few flames, Anifaire managed to relight the fire and at least gain a bit of warmth as she huddled beside it, miserable. She’d never experienced conditions such as these in her life.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

A Golden Escape

A LadyTabris, @BurningCold, and @MiddleEarthRoze collaboration.

What would happen now, with the mountain blown apart? Would the metal creatures dwelling within remain guarding the halls of their dead masters, or would they spill into civilisation with the way open for them? The thought of the behemoth that had stalked the stone ceilings crawling over innocent cities was spine-chilling. Sol was hardly a champion for the people, but to leave anyone to a fate such as that would be abominable. Not that there was anything he could do by himself about it... for now, all he could was follow instructions given. Relax in the city for three days, and then meet up at Rhea's house for payment.

As if Solandil could relax.

It was unsettling, walking those unwelcomingly familiar streets again. The scars of war had mostly vanished from the spick and span city, but Sol could still taste the scent of smoke and blood on the air as if he were a soldier again. This was his first time back in Imperial City since the death of his beloved brother and his abandonment of his people and army. Suffice to say, Sol was eager to take his payment and get the hell out of the city. Where to, he didn't know - with luck he could pick up a new contract before his departure and then be on his way for future job prospects.

Due to his payment being delayed by another three days, Sol made do with the cheapest inn he could find, The Bloated Float. Despite his aversion to swimming, he'd always found the bobbing of ships on the water quite comforting, in a way. Even when sailing away from Valinor in a crammed navy ship, he'd caught better rest there than some nights in his own regal home. Still, the events that had transpired only some hours before meant for restlessness, no matter how dog-tired he felt. After settling into his modest room on board the ship, Sol dwindled while perched on his bed, long pale fingers drumming his bent knees idly. He had three days to entertain himself without spending too much money. That meant no drinking at the inns, no matter how tempting it was to whittle away his time there. He had no patience to lend himself to the fighting pits, certainly not in his current state. Too fatigued, and still sore from his most recent adventure gone awry.

Thumbing his last few septims that lay in the palm of his hand, Sol scowled at the meagre amount. Just 12 left over from the nights paid here (Sol had managed to haggle the innkeep down from 20 to 15 for two nights, after a brief look at the somewhat dilapidated quarters, and an intimidating glare that soon followed.). Sighing and pocketing the remainder of his money, laying back on the creaky bed and closing his eyes. It had been a long day.

Most of his first day was spent holed up in the small room, sleeping and keeping to himself. He had no desire to go out and mingle with the others in the inn, nor did he want to be tempted to throw his money away on alcohol. It was also easier to avoid the chatter from within about what had happened in the Jerall Mountains. News travelled fast, and people had already been talking about the disaster when the group had arrived in Imperial City. He had no patience for their theories about what may have happened, especially when he knew the truth. Well... some of the truth, anyway. He still had no idea what had really created such a cataclysmic event, nor what the purpose behind such a construct was. All he knew was his employer's - and by default, his - hands in it. Suffice to say, Solandil was ready to take his pay and never encounter Rhea again. While he held nothing personally against the woman, this job was turning out to be far too much trouble than it was worth.

After spending several hours in isolation, Sol spent the law few hours before meeting up with the others stretching his legs, and eating the last of his food. It was nothing too expensive; some bread, cheese, even an apple. Having packed up his belongings and vacated the Bloated Float, Sol wandered around the waterfront, finding it surprisingly calm. The ghosts of his past seemed to dwindle as he made his way around the docks. Despite the hustle and bustle going about the boats there, there was an odd serenity across the bay. He hadn't ventured into this area during the war, so the peaceful water and scenery was untainted by his memories. Settling himself on the sand with his food, Sol almost found himself relaxing as he lounged and watched the world go by.

Almost relaxed, that is.

Just as he'd finished his last bite of bread, screams from the city captured his attention. Looking up into the still green-tinged sky, Sol watched on in horror as great ships descended from the sky like creatures of Oblivion.

"Oh, for the love of-!" Scrambling to his feet, Sol's swords were drawn before he'd even gained his balance. Whatever the attacking force was, they seemed to be ignoring the docks for the most part, though he knew it was only a matter of time before they'd turn their attention towards modes of transport. The waterfront would be a hotspot, and Sol very nearly turned to flee in the opposite direction before he paused, gritting his teeth. The group he had been with... it was about an hour before they were due to be at Rhea's place, but some of them could still be there. If not that, they'd definitely still be in the city. His interactions with them had been slim, but something stopped the elf from leaving the city boundaries. Faces of those he had trawled through the darkness with flashed across his mind, and Solandil grimaced. Maybe the more-than expected treacherous adventure had formed bonds he hadn't anticipated.

"I still need paying." He muttered darkly to no-one in particular, before sprinting towards the gates to the Temple District, ready for a fight.

---

---

As he stalked through the shadows of the great Imperial City, Mortalmo lips moved fervently in silent, desperate prayer. Syrabane and Magnus, keep his connection to the mystic strong against the coming trials. Y’ffre, ensure that he remain swift and sure-footed when the time comes to flee or to charge. Xarxes, teach him the sagacity to make only wise decisions in the face of uncertainty. Mara, though they are far and scattered, keep those few he still holds dear safe from harm. Phynaster, in his absence, safeguard his home and its inhabitants from the growing threat. Stendarr, grant him the courage to always walk the right path, regardless of darker temptations. Trinimac, lend him the strength needed to overcome any obstacle the tumultuous future should place before him. And Auri-El, guide his every step so that never does he stray from the divine plan. The words repeated themselves in Mortalmo’s mind over and over again as he sought divine protection and guidance from his gods. Yet even as his mind raced, his eyes were sharp and steady, his muscles taut as he crept along. Agitated as Mortalmo was, the incessant prayers did much to drown out the anxious and panicked thoughts that endeavored to arise within his psyche. So he continued his journey, hurrying as fast as he dared while attempting to avoid the detection of the dwemer constructs. He had to find Anifaire, and quickly.

The two of them had spent a large portion of their first day within the city in one another’s company. The poor girl had seemed utterly lost mere moments after stepping within the city proper. It was his simple duty, then, to accompany her until she gained a sense of comfort. The two had shared a lovely stroll through the gardens, reminiscing together on the virtue of their homeland. It was a comfort for Mortalmo to know that, green as she was, Anifaire was still armed with cultural pride befitting of her station. That was days ago now though, and the subject of their next meeting would be far more grim. If the gods were good, Mortalmo thought, there would be a next time. As he approached an intersection in the roads, he paused to consider what route would get him to what he hoped was Anifaire’s current location fastest. An ominous hiss disrupted his thought process, however, and it was only through the use of a hastily casted ward that a dwemer sphere’s blade slid harmlessly off of the magical barrier, rather than digging deep into the Altmer’s flesh. Cursing, Mortalmo rose to his full height, extending an open palm to his side as a purple blade, shimmering with ethereal energy, found purchase in his grip. Deflecting another stab, Mortalmo dispelled the ward before swinging at the construct with cold fury.

---

---

As he re-entered the city, Sol realised several things. Firstly, he didn't recognise the attackers. They had with them machines very similar from the Dwemer ruins, even wearing armour that was of Dwemer design. This sent a cold shiver down Solandil's spine, but he was too busy evading capture and fighting to pay much attention to connect the dots. It was here he realised the second thing: He was better at sneaking than he'd realised. Although not great enough to avoid complete detection (And having to put down several attackers, all automatons), he was able to sneak quite far into the city. Thirdly, as he found himself in a very unfamiliar Market District, Sol realised that he didn't know the City as well as he thought, and was quite lost. Finding the others in his group seemed a pointless endeavour at this point, and the Altmer was about ready to leave when he caught sight of a very familiar face.

"What are you doing up there?" He shouted incredulously to Anifaire, seeing her clutching at the balcony above. The girl was either hopelessly lost or just hopeless. Either way, he couldn't believe she'd been allowed on the expedition what with being so green.

"Solandil?" Anifaire scrambled to her feet, gripping the balcony rail until her fingers turned white. "I'm... I'm stuck. Sort of. There were a lot of Spheres." She glanced around the balcony for a handhold to climb back over the the crates. Finding one, she swung a leg over the rail, looking nervously at the ground. "I'll, uh... come down, now." She stepped out precariously, gripping a windowsill, and finally landed on the stacked crates. From there, she scrambled back down to the street, nearly losing her balance once, but managing to catch herself.

Well, she didn't look very stuck, which was Sol's first thought as he waited by impatiently, looking all around him as he waited for her. Their foes could spring from anywhere, and the pale Altmer was visibly ansty about sticking in one place for too long; bouncing on the balls of his feet, partially crouched and hands gripping his sword hilts tighter than a miser holds his purse. Sol wasn't entirely sure what was happening, but it didn't take much thought for it to connect to their business in the Jerall Mountains. The two events were too close to one another to not be related.

As Anifaire stumbled to his side, now off the balcony, Sol pondered momentarily as to why he had stopped to help her. As much as he liked to pretend he was a self-serving, save-your-own-skin type, he couldn't stop himself from playing the hero. Telling himself it was just because he knew her face, Sol shrugged off his self-doubts and scanned the streets before looking to the younger Altmer woman.

"We need to get out of the city." He said quietly, as if their very conversation was enough to draw unwanted attention amidst the chaos of the battles on the streets. Going back the way he'd come seemed like the best idea, but it was a long way back to the Waterfront. Finding the nearest exit would be their best bet, and then finding whatever group they could to survive in.

Of all the companions Anifaire could've run into, Sol was probably somewhere in the middle of the road. She hadn't talked very much with him, and he was quite funny looking, but he was an Altmer, at least, so there was some commonality. It could've been a stranger, who may have totally abandoned her when he saw how useless she was in a fight. She spared a thought for those she'd become more accustomed to in her travels. Durantel, had he left the city? Or Judena, the strange Argonian. Alim? Instead of pondering her new.. companions, she turned her attention to Solandil, wondering if they were even going to get out of the city. Was she going to die here, after surviving that expedition?

"Do you have any idea how?" she answered.

"Of cours-" Sol began blurting out the words before he stopped himself, looking around him. Could he remember the way out? So focused on his sneaking and survival, Solandil once again found himself lost in the city. Strange, how it was so familiar in this time that he could almost be back to his first and only visit - but also so unfamiliar that he couldn't attempt to find his bearings. The wilderness would be easier and safer to trek through than the maze of increasingly bloodied stone that surrounded them.

Still wheeling around in an attempt to avoid danger and find an exit, Sol paused as he forced logic into his panicked mind. Think. There were only certain exits in the Imperial City, and all of them could be found on the towering marble walls that surrounded the area. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he locked eyes with Anifaire.

"We'll make for the walls. Whichever way we go, we'll find a gate, and after that, our group." Though he still had no idea how to find the group, he felt it appropriate to add it to the plan. Perhaps Anifaire had some kind of magical trick up her sleeve to help in this.

"I hope you know the way around," Anifaire replied. I've already been lost a few times. It was really impossible to tell that she'd ever lived in the city. With someone else to rely on, she felt less panicked and gestured for Sol to lead the way. She tried to keep her head clear and figure out if there was anything she ould do to help them out of the situation, perhaps make them invisible? But no, she didn't have enough of a grasp on the spell to be confident in that.

In her head, she weighed the possibilities of just how bad things could be. Falmer, or Dwemer and automations? Somehow, she thought she'd rather go back to crisping Falmer. That, she thought she might be able to repeat. But the automations were metal, and she doubted fire would do them in very quickly.

Not bothering to answer Anifaire - because the answer would be a very embarassing 'no' - Solandil beckoned for her to follow as he began skirting the edges of the buildings, swords still drawn ready. He wondered if the others in the group would have an answer for what evil had befallen the city. It was connected to their excavation for sure, but how was it connected? Questions Solandil didn't have an answer to, nor would he if they died in this city.

By sheer dumb luck, Solandil and Anifaire hadn't even made it to the city walls before coming across another of their group. Surrounded by the same mechanical monstrosities that had attacked Sol earlier, Mortalmo stood in the streets alone. Whether others of the group were nearby, Sol couldn't see any either dead or alive - but it was a relief to see another face he knew.

"Durantel! Have you met any others?" Calling to his fellow Altmer, Sol continued scanning the area for more foes. They were literally descending from the sky, so he didn't have the time to let his guard drop for even a second.

The older Altmer grunted as he forced the blade of the automaton away from him, before swiping his own weapon clean through the machine's narrow midsection. The thing clattered loudly to the stonework in two severed pieces. Mortalmo released a thin sigh as his sword faded into whisps of violet smoke. The single construct hadn't been more than a trifle, though a group of those things posed an undeniable threat. There were surely enough roaming the city to overpower any lone warrior. It was only then that he properly noticed the source of the inquiry cast his way moments ago. Peering towards the pair, creases of relief appeared across his face as he glanced in Anifaire's direction, before fixing Solandil with an even stare. Eyes glancing around warily, Mortalmo began to speak, approaching the two elves. "I was looking for this one," He said, extending a hand in the direction of the fairer Altmer, before reaching out with the same hand towards Solandil. "Though it is just as fortunate to see that you are well."

"It is good to see you are safe, Durantel," Anifaire greeted. She felt somewhat better about the situation since the other Altmer had arrived, and was grateful he had been seeking her. Surely, he would know how to get out of the city. She subsided, leaving the decision making to the others as she was accustomed to doing when in her homeland. If it wasn't academic, she rarely spoke out of turn, and especially in a tense situation such as this one, she found comfort in the normality.

"Aye, it's good to see you as well." Judging by Durantel's answer, he was alone in his battles. At least now the three of them together had a fighting chance to get out of this godsforsaken city in one piece. "We need to leave, as soon as possible. If there are others in the group still alive, chances are that they've fled the city and are probably making for the nearest safe haven." Thinking from the top of his head, there were several cities roughly the same distance away if one didn't factor in terrain. Cheydinhal, Chorrol, Bruma and Skingrad. Looking once more to the green sky, Sol shuddered lightly.

"North... seems like a bad direction to go in. Skingrad to the south seems best." He added grimly, wondering if the other two held the same hunch he did. To the north were the Jerall Mountains, and if these attackers had anything to do with their venture there, it would likely be a poor descision to head back that way.

Mortalmo nodded his head, a slight motion that was as much assent as anything. "To Skingrad then." His tone carried with it all the poise and self-assurance that it had been known for; yet, a growing pit in his stomach betrayed, even if only to himself, any true sense of confidence. He cast a quick glance at the sickly sky, and shuddered. What had they released within that mountain? In Mortalmo's mind, there was no doubt that the ill-fated expedition had played an unwitting role in preparing the attack that was now causing havoc throughout the city. "I have made it this far taking a subtler approach," He gestured to the ruined automaton at his feet. "This one was the first to discover me. I suggest that the three of us strike a balance between stealth and rapidity."

Anifaire, relieved that her party sounded certain about their route, hoped they would be able to stay hidden. She had never travelled to Skingrad, or really many of the other cities they mentioned, and her knowledge of foreign geography was sparse, so she had no sense of where they would be heading. She hoped it wouldn't be a long walk on foot, as she wouldn't be very prepared for that. Still, present difficulties being Dwemer automations, it was of little concern yet. Nervously, she moved to follow the rest of the party, sticking close behind Durantel. The Altmer briefly considered their expedition and its relation to the massive ships in the sky, and opened her mouth to ask about it, but shut it instead. It wasn't the time to begin a discussion.

---

---

The cautious trek through the city towards the bridge gate was as quick as they dared to move - three Altmer's together did attract attention, but with the crowds of people scattered screaming throughout, the trio were able to avoid much detection. As there had been no guaranteed way for them to get across Lake Rumare, the bridge leading from the Talos Plaza District had become their main goal. As luck would have it, the three only encountered a handful of enemies to dispatch before making it to the gate before it was overrun. Amidst the chaos of guards attempting to stem the flow of the attackers, Anifaire, Durantel and Solandil were able to slip out with a few other citizens and flee to the west. No significant attempt was made to follow the escapees... clearly, taking the city was the main goal of the Dwemer-cladded attackers.

The farther the group journeyed from the city, Anifaire slowly became more at ease. It took time for the tension she felt, the anxiety that a Dwemer automation may be around the corner, to ease. Though her feet became sore and blistered as they walked the road to Skingrad, she felt better with every step farther from danger. Still, the same thoughts picked at her the she wondered if her two companions were thinking: Had they done something to cause this on the expedition?

It was Mortalmo then, that finally voiced the thoughts that had been plaguing Anifaire's thoughts so. "Though the two of you may have reached other conjectures, there is little doubt in my mind that whatever it is that the expedition trifled with while under that mountain... is in direct correlation to the recent attack. Perhaps even causation." Beneath the matter of fact tone he spoke with, there was subtler sense of consternation tinging Mortalmo's speech. "If that truly is the case... Auri-El forgive us." And, for what hadn't been the first time upon leaving the city, and certainly would not be the last, the centuries old mer lapsed once again into muttered, barely audible prayer, eyes scanning the group's surroundings warily. As for Solandil, he chose to remain silent, face hidden by his helm. He'd already reached the same conclusion, but found no point in praying to anyone. The Aedra had never answered his prayers before, and he certainly didn't expect them to now.

Unsure how to reply, Anifaire muttered in agreement, uttering her own prayer. She glanced back at the city, dread in her heart. Would they expand, from there? She considered asking Durantel, but looked at the ground instead. "Auri-El save us."

---

---

The journey passed slowly, for Anifaire. Each night, as the party set up a small camp to get some rest, the woman was unable to help. She would collect a bucket of water and rewrap her blistering feet, thankful that she wasn't alone. Durantel and Solandil were competent at their tasks, far more accustomed to travel than she was. When she had previously been on the road, she'd had a carriage to sit in or a horse to ride, aside from the also tiring trek back to the Imperial City after the expedition. She wished now for her home and family, her father and mother's protection and the warmth of her childhood bed.

Still, seeing Automations working and up close was an amazing thing. The farther they were from the city, the more she was able to appreciate the wonder of what she had experienced rather than only the terror. And those flying ships? What a feat of engineering. If only the Dwemer hadn't attacked. Anifaire would have been interested in speaking with one. Though, they did enslave the Falmer, so it wasn't a surprise, exactly.

She wished they had remained archaeological research subjects for her.

As he had had been when he left the city, Solandil remained mostly silent during the journey to Skingrad. Each slow trek and rest-stop made him clench his jaw in impatience, as he was eager to get as far away from the capital and towards safer civilisation as soon as possible. But any sour expression was hidden from the others by either his scarf or helmet - and no matter how paranoid he became at each and every stop the three made, Sol couldn't bring himself to abandoning them. He had no doubt that Anifaire was stronger than she looked, and even then, Durantel would have no issue in looking after her. But he was bonded with these people by what they had fled together... and what they had done deep in the Mountains. None of them had activated the mechanism that had (most likely) started this fresh hell off, but everyone in the group would be equally as responsible.

That's how Sol saw it, anyway.

Not particularly wanting to speak or hypothesize about what exactly had occured, Sol kept himself busy with foraging for food, though with no skill in hunting or having access to any ranged arsenal, failed to find a filling meal most nights. He also took his turns in keeping guard at night around a crackling fire, allowing Anifaire to get more sleep than was equal simply because it seemed she needed it the most. Durantel too, ensured that the youth had adequate time to rest. Clearly the younger Altmer wasn't used to travelling as they had, so doggedly as if the Dwemer automatons were nipping at their heels.

For Mortalmo's part, the flight from the Imperial Capital was par for the course for him. The ex-justiciar had many a time found himself chasing desperate fugitives across the land; they had always tired first. Though this time, it was he that was the prey fleeing from a threat far greater than what he and his two companions were capable of facing. It harkened back to a time centuries ago, when the daedra first spread their foul taint into Mortalmo's homeland. Fleeing doggedly on horseback, his baby brother clutched carefully against his chest, the young Mortalmo had sworn to never again be in a situation like this. To never again run from a foe. It was a naive thing to promise, Mortalmo knew that now. He had learned it more times than he would like to admit, during his military service. Perhaps that was why the role of a justiciar suited him so. Nobody, not a single soul, had the upper hand over a justiciar.

Not that he could claim to be a justiciar any longer. That honor had been lost to him nearly a decade ago.

The presence of Solandil and Anifaire both acted as no small comfort to Mortalmo. Despite the albino's physical discrepancies, he was a capable warrior and a stalwart travel companion. Anifaire too, unaccustomed to such conditions as they found themselves in, steeled herself admirably against the trials she faced. Not once had she cried aloud in complaint, despite the visible discomfort that sometimes etched itself upon her countenance. When Mortalmo considered the alternatives, he shuddered. Better an albino and a young lady than a cat. Or worse yet... a lizard.

---

---

Six days it had been. Six days of prayer, tense nerves, and uncomfortable silence. Some might describe what happened next as the work of Talos, or Akatosh, or perhaps even Auri-El. For Mortalmo's part, he cursed Lorkhan. Ahead of the three altmer, a collection of familiar faces stood. The oldest of the mer found his eyes resting on an argonian that he had never desired to see again.

Mortalmo stared ahead, entirely aghast at his misfortune.

"Stendarr have mercy."

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

The cloak that Alim had given her still wrapped around her, Anifaire left the inn she’d been staying at for the market just outside. This time, she stuck to the crowds, not wanting to have a repeat of before in an alleyway. The Altmer had just eaten lunch, and she was heading across to a book shop she had been familiar with while she attended the university, since it was in sight of the inn.

Anifaire hopped up the steps and reached for the doorknob as she heard someone on the street let out a shout. She turned around, confused, and noticed the shocked mutterings of those around her. Shadows saturated the area. Following their gazes, her eyes landed on the massive, flying ship above. Seconds later, Dwemer automata began pouring out of the colossal creation, and the merchants and shoppers both began to flee the area, some rushing into their shops and others sprinting down the street towards their homes. Anifaire toppled backwards off the steps in astonishment, backing away more slowly than the others. A patrol of guards rushed past her, drawing swords and hurrying to meet to automations.

The expedition… Does this have anything to do with…? Barely able to believe her eyes, Anifaire finally got her legs working and abruptly bolted in the direction opposite the incoming forces, though they were moving at an astonishing pace. Taking a sharp left turn, Anifaire found herself on another street of shops, people fleeing and guards fighting all over the populated square. Which way is Rhea’s house? she wondered.

Out of nowhere, a Dwemer sphere rolled too close to her for comfort, and she jumped back out of the way as it spotted her. She raised her hands, her mind rushing to come up with a spell to cast but drawing a blank in fear, but instead, an armoured city guard stepped out from behind her and caught the creation’s thrust on his shield.

“Run! Get inside, find somewhere safe!” he shouted at her as he engaged the sphere. Anifaire took a few steps back, wishing she could do something to help, but fear overpowered her and she ran. She rushed into a side alley, making it about halfway to the next street before another construct turned into the alleyway, blocking her way.

As the construct was approaching, Anifaire looked around urgently for somewhere to hide. Above her, she noticed a balcony, on the lower side but not quite high enough to each. She clambered up onto some nearby crates, glancing backwards at the oncoming Dwemer creation which had yet to notice her, and gulped before jumping for the railing. Flying through the air for a few feet, her arms caught the railing and with an adrenaline fueled effort, she pulled herself onto the balcony. It was cramped, but she felt much safer above their line of sight.

The Altmer lay down flat against the balcony floor, peeking over the edge to watch the unaware construct pass, wondering how she was supposed to get out of this mess.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Once the flames faded and the stream of Falmer dried up, it seemed as though everyone else went about business as usual. Anifaire’s companions grouped together, getting patched up and organized. Meanwhile, the Altmer trailed back into a darker corner of the room. She was unharmed save for superficial wounds, luckily, though she’d taken much more of a mental toll than the others. The stench of blood and death saturated her senses; she bent down over a bit of rubble and tried to swallow the bile rising in her throat. Ultimately, she failed, and found herself retching up a few mouthfuls of bile onto the rocks. She glanced up at the others, glad to see that no one had noticed. Truly, her companions seemed capable, and huddled in that corner, Anifaire knew she was out of her depth. One of them had already saved her.

Simply, she didn’t want everybody – Rhea especially – to see her emptying her stomach on the ground. Once she’d gotten herself under control again, she trailed back over to the group, keeping to the outskirts still. While they recovered, she retreated inwards, shocked at the events of the day. Had it only been a day? It felt like a year.

Later…

It wasn’t until they came upon the ruined dwellings that some life returned to Anifaire. Her passion returned to her, the reason she’d come evident. The cat, Rhea, and the bard approached the wall. Anifaire trailed along behind, entranced by the words and pictures. She stopped a few feet away from the others, ignoring them in favour of trying an at-a-glance translation of some of the phrases. She picked up a few words in the dim light, but doing this first-hand wasn’t something she was accustomed to, and the script was messier than the altered, scholarly copies she was accustomed to. The high elf felt around in her pockets, wishing she could take a rubbing for later, when they heard the thumps.

Terror gripped her. Not again, no. She didn’t want to go through that again. She wasn’t a fighter. Instinctively, she returned to the group. Strength in numbers. A light erupted in the room, flickering across the ground and revealing glimpses of Falmer as it did. She followed the group like a stray dog, eyes glazed. Reflexively, she attempted to stay near the middle of the group. There were pros to being with companions who were competent.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

I will post something before we move along on Friday, I swear

After I got a couple of rumors it became pretty hard to think of some considering her limited experiences, but I really really like a couple of these.

Anifaire's rumors-
1. She advanced so quickly when studying magic that she was placed in lessons with children a few years ahead of her.
2. Ever since she came of age, courtship offers have been coming in from other noble families’ sons, even after she moved to Cyrodiil, though her parents have never accepted one.
3. At the University, other students would notice her because she showed up to classes she wasn’t even signed up for, sometimes for days in a row before losing interest and finding another class.
4. She had an affair with one of her teachers at the University.
5. She once had a magical experiment go so wrong that she killed two colleagues – they disintegrated.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Falmer were attacking. They would arrive any moment. Rhea was barking out orders, and it seemed like just about everyone knew what they were doing. A few clambered up onto the roof of the building while other spread out, giving each other space to wield weapons. Anifaire stumbled to the back of the group, eyes struggling to focus in the dim light. She could barely distinguish between her companions, eyes searching for Mortalmo briefly before the fight began. She was interrupted before she could identify anyone who might help her as the Falmer broke into the area and pandemonium ensued. The scent of Falmer permeated the air; Anifaire wrinkled her nose in disgust and briefly attempted to plug her nose with her hand before giving up the futile attempt. It was too strong. Never in her life had she smelled anything so revolting or seen a creature so disturbing.

She stepped back, feeling too close to the battle and yet there was no space for her to move back into. She wished it was lighter. The Altmer spun around, pulse rising, panic setting in, and stumbled face first into a Falmer. The scent was even stronger, and the creature moved unnaturally, with its feel slapping against the ground. It had once been an elf, and the idea was enough to turn Anifaire’s stomach, not that the smell of Falmer mixed with blood wasn’t doing it on its own. She froze stock still until the monster bashed her with his shield hard enough to knock her over. The woman tumbled to the ground with a thud, her shock dissipated, and she rolled out of the way of a sword thrust. In the midst of this, a clear thought fought its way to the forefront of her mind, the only clear thing in the confusion: I’ve ruined this dress. She didn’t stop there; no, she kept rolling until she hit the wall, which wasn’t far. Somewhere on her journey she’d sensed someone step over her and engage the Falmer, though she hadn’t been able to make out who had done it.

Anifaire propped herself up on her arms and turned so that her back was to the wall and she could see the battle. One more look at the Falmer was all it took to make her think of how close she’d been to that thing, the smell, the movement, the way its skin glistened oddly in what light there was as though it were slightly wet, and she turned over and vomited. She’d skipped breakfast and there was little in her stomach to come up, but some water and stomach acid spilled out on the floor. There was a second where she could breath as her body continued to retch without anything to throw up. Once she finished, she immediately rolled away from the vomit and stood up with a bit of help from the wall.

Light headed, she spun around and stepped hesitantly away from the wall, moving farther towards the building entrance despite the congregation of people and Falmer fighting there. She wanted fresh air and in her daze was able to pay little attention to her surroundings. She tripped on some rubble, crashing to the ground dangerously close to some fighting, and sprang to her feet in the fray of things. She turned around, looking to get some space, but was instead met by the lizard.

“Come! Anrenfar! Join your spell to mine!” Anifaire jolted herself as the other mage cast some flames, far more expertly than Anifaire knew she could manage. Regardless, being given a direct command – did she say Anrenfar? – gave the Altmer something to hold onto. Without even thinking, she joined the spell. The flames grew, and Anifaire let Judena lead them. Huh. Crisped Falmer wasn’t a scent Anifaire would’ve imagined smelling when she was back in Alinor, but it seemed it was preferable to the regular scent of Falmer by far. She hadn't imagined they would smell so atrocious, or move so unnaturally. The idea that these were once Snow Elves nauseated her.