Outside Senchal, Elsweyr
28th of Midyear, 4E 205
An-Xileel peacekeepers

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The 200 hundred troops had spent a lot of energy to muster the ship and resources that would carry them from Lilmoth to the South of Elsweyr in any good time. They had no fears of the river, as no good Argonian would, but they were all nervous about the mission given to them. It was clearly important enough to the lord of the Marsh that two-hundred Argonians must help out the Khajiit, but it didn’t make the trip any less of a hassle. The common Argonian still thought of the Khajiit as lesser fools for maintaining a grudge that was founded on lies.

When they arrived in South Elsweyr, they immediately began to march towards the coastal city of Senchal, leaving ten troops to guard the ship while 190 Argonians advanced. They expected a greeting of some sorts: some warm food perhaps. What they were met with was a town that had been besieged and bested. Bodies still littered ramparts and floors, and the flag of the north hung high. The peacekeepers had no peace to keep, the war had begun, been fought and ended in less than three days.

The leader of the An-Xileel, a captain of some merit, was left at an impase. The argoinans were heavily armed and highly trained. They would probably be able to best the Northern invaders, at the cost of Argonian blood, of course. But then what? This wasn’t the mission they’d been sent for.

The Captain looked at the city of Senchal and sighed heavily…This was not their fight.

“An-Xileel, we make camp by the boat for one night: and we sail back to Lilmoth tomorrow. A wasted trip, for sure: The Khajiit can rot if they raise issue with brave Argonians resting on their land.”

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Stormhold, Black Marsh
29th of Midyear, 4E 205
Rules-With-Claw and Stalks-The-Stars

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Through the castle of Moonhall, Rules-With-Claw’s very footsteps seemed to rumble like thunder. The Argonian stormed through the halls of the keep with his axe at his back and a crumpled up piece of paper in his hand. The rage that simmered from the Argonian leader was palpable, and every servant weaved out of the way of the Giant-lizard with a very visible effort and fear. Before he was a leader, he was a warrior: and Rules-With-Claw looked set for war.

The doors to the Castle main hall slammed open, and Stalks-The-Stars looked up at his father with a look of curiosity and concern. He was surrounded by a number of merchants and scholars who shared similar looks with each other. Before anyone got a chance to speak, Rules-With-Claw let his voice boom out, echoing through the large stones of the castle. “Everyone, out, now!” 

The shout of the Argonian had the compelling force of a Th’uum without any of the magic, and instantly the hall was empty of everyone except the two most important Argonians in the land. Stalks-The-Stars stayed still as his father approached and did not move until a powerful backhand crashed against his left cheek, hurling him across the room. Rules-With-Claw spoke again, the same fury and anger in his voice as before. “Is it true?”

Stalks-The-Stars rose from the floor, rubbing his cheek gingerly. He had not seen his father ever direct such anger at him before, but he knew exactly the reason, and shared the shame of his parent. “Yes, father.” Seeing the champion of the Argonians, the lord of Stormhold himself, so cowed was a rarity. The confident and charismatic Argonian was now but a Spawnling once again, a child in front of a father.

Hearing the words seemed to have a calming effect on Rules-With-Claws. Hearing the admission of guilt was an odd comfort: at least he had a person to blame, to fix even. “Explain to me how this happened: Did you lose the ring?”

Stalks-The-Stars shook his head, holding up a hand to show the Ring of Hircine to his father. “I lost nothing, but gained something, it seems. Hircine gifted me his weapon, and warned of a danger to come. It seems his gifts came with a heavy price. I lost control for the night because I accepted the Spear of the Hunter. In doing so, I harmed our people and tarnished your name. I accept any punishment you or the people of Stormhold would give.” He gets down onto his knees, a position of pure submissiveness. It showed the loyalty Stalks-The-Stars had, both to his father and his people. He had betrayed them both, and it grieved him.

Rules-With-Claw walked over to the bowing boy, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m assuming the Spear is worthy of my son?” 

Stalks-The-Stars seemed to stiffen at the touch and the question, but he remained in position. “It is powerful, father. Immensely so, in fact.”

Rules-With-Claws patted Stalks-The-Stars shoulder, affection replacing rage. “Will it happen again? Will you lose control again?” 

Stalks-The-Stars paused, before rising off his knees and standing up again. His father still towered over him, but it felt better than being in a position held by beaten prey. “I…don’t think so. Lord Hircine seems appeased with my hunt, so unless he demands more: I should be under the Ring’s control again.”

Rules-With-Claw nods, letting go of his son’s shoulder. “Good. Sithis knows I don’t need the foreigners demanding I execute my son, the monster. I’m returning to Helstrom tonight, my place is there. I trust you son, don’t disappoint me.”

Stalks-The-Stars nods, before watching his father leave, much calmer than he entered. Even if his father was content with the situation, he was still shaken by it. He would have to be careful when the lord Hircine spoke up next, lest he kill more of his people.

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[Hider=Actions] -The 200 peacekeepers land and are met with the disappointing news that the mission has failed before it even begun. They are camped in South Elsweyr from the 28th of Midyear until the 29th, before setting sail again.
-Rules-With-Claws confronts Stalks-The-Stars about the uncontrolled transformation. After the meeting, Rules-With-Claw began the return journey to Helstrom, the capital.
-(Unrepresented in text) The Purified Hist Sap has arrived at the Helstrom Magus academy and is now in the claws of the Grand Magus.[/Hider]