Qara'Sion lifted his head, hearing a woman's voice. "You there, cat." Came from the blond haired nord warrior. She pointed down and his eyes followed to see metal in her leg, How she managed to approach him and still stand felt like it should be a mystery, but that's to be expected from the nords. "Fix." 

It was also expected they would be blunt as well. He slowly closed his eyes and hung his, deeply exhaling. Considering the whole episode of the demanding thing just happened not moments ago, he found it very... coincidental? Ironic? Well, at least he wouldn't feel bad about changing his mind to thank her from before. Although he did know healing magic, he wasn't exactly a doctor, With no words, he repositioned himself to rest on one knee and one foot. He lifted his hands over the wound, but hesitated before healing. The metal needed to be removed or the wound wouldn't heal, or it would just heal on the metal. "...This needs to be removed before I do anything. Shall I take it out, or you?" the khajiit stated, not looking back up at her. 

Thyra looked around in a fluster and barked at the Cat for not taking two seconds to heal her. "It's a small splinter," she maintained. A single glance at the problem and suddenly the ever sturdy Nord could taste what remained of her breakfast. In contrast to her even paler skin, the bronze shard resembled a crooked Orc dagger, stuck nearly two-inches deep and curved upwards at the end. Her thumb dug between it and her skin, fingers trembling around the rest, and in one quick, panicky, movement, it was yanked free. A withheld yelp died in her throat. "See," she whispered, pressing a supportive hand on the wall. "Now you." 

To be honest, from the tone of her voice as well as her immediate response to its removal; the splinter was a bit more of a pain than was to be expected. Regardless, the khajiit obliged once said splinter was removed. Both hands enveloped in warm colors and the aura left his hands on to the wound. This time the waves were no longer shaking frantically from over exhaustion and a weakened mind. Blood dripped down, but the wound was in one way slowly closing and quickly closing. The only reason for it to be both was because had he been healing her entire body rather than just focusing one spot, it would take much longer. 

It wasn't long before the spell did it's job. "There, all done. Can you still walk fine enough?" Qara'Sion asked her as he resumed to sitting down against the wall, finally looking up at her. 

Ribbons of light enveloped her wound and gently pushed the edges together, mending muscle fibres and repairing the damage done. She saw none of this from the inside of her elbow, but rather felt the restoration take place, and the improvement in mobility straight after. "Aye," she replied more calmly. "Another good scar." 

As she tested out the joint a couple more times, the Cat sat himself down and against the wall. "Oh, no you don't. Get up," she pulled him by the arm and pointed at where the Guards were last seen retreating. "They'll be back, pissed, and with friends. Get your group together, we need to go." Thyra left to pick her shield and axe up from the debris and ignored the ache in her bruised shoulder as she reattached them to her waist and back. Many of the survivors had disappeared, the ones she did pass offered kind gestures, a handshake or sip from their canteen, which she returned with a grateful nod. Before joining back up with Qara'Sion, she took a moment to look around at the abandoned dead, at the women weeping as their surviving sons pulled them off corpses in the street, the children peeking out fearfully from cracks in the wall. "Did we do a good thing here?" she thought to herself. 

When she sought out her ally, she expected him to be with company, but not that of the two men now beside him. 

He looked around quickly, easily spotting Shenzi and her oddball of a team discussing something. Just as he turned and took one step forward, he heard the words from a man speaking to him. “If you know the Heroes of Tamriel, take me to them. It is a pressing matter. If you do not, I thank you for your services and will take my leave from your presence.” Turning his head once more around, he spotted the male nord from earlier: the one that didn't threaten him. A pressing matter with Zaveed and Gorzath, huh? Another favor? 

Qara'Sion placed one hand on his side, and two fingers on the bridge of his nose. Clearly showing a bit of annoyance. To Oblivion with it. If it wasn't urgent, the heroes would just shrug them off and if it was urgent well... yay? "...I do know them. But what is this urgent matter-" 

She frowned disapprovingly at the poorly timed socializing and made her way to them. Ignoring their conversation, she gave Qara'Sion a light shove and whispered harshly at his side. "What in Oblivion are you doing? We must go. Now." the khajiit lost his balance a little bit from the shove only due to the fact that he didn't expect it, "I know, I know. This one just asked me something for a moment. Let's move from here." 

As the Nord scooped up his friend, he rejoined the Khajiit and his Nord companion. The woman was tough, to be sure. He watched her as she had her wound healed and although she shielded herself from the gore in her own leg, at least she didn’t faint. A true Nord. To the Khajiit’s question, the corner of his mouth rose in contempt and anger before he settled himself down, remembering just who he was doing this for, “The urgent business is mine to know and mine to tell the Heroes, Khajiit. They are warriors, men who fight. I know men who fight and another sword on their side is never a bad thing.” He growled.

Qara'Sion only blinked while visibly showing one fang, keeping the same expression he had prior to this one's answer. For one, the heroes and his allies came first: throwing an extra burden on them was not something the khajiit liked to see nor do. And if all it was, was to just join their cause, well there were plenty of other ways to join. His right ear flicked as he began to regret healing the man's fallen friend. "Alright, it is your business after all." He shrugged while shaking his head. 

He easily gave in and signaled for Vendel to follow them. In Qara'Sion's favor, Shenzi was in the direction of where they needed to go. They were a few feet away from them, and his sister easily spotted the one khajiit next to two nords. She tilted her head in confusion as their eyes locked, but all her brother needed to do was to wave his hand in a "follow me" motion for her to realize. They needed to leave.

Show me a safe path... He thought while his hand began to glow as blue as the sky. The khajiit made a motion as if catching something in his hand and to his eyes alone, a blue luminescent path from his feet went down a nearby alley. He tilted his head for the others to follow as he ran off.

Soon, they ran into a hooded man moving along the same alley. When he heard the group's footsteps, he stopped moving to look. He held his chest as he exhaled deeply. Relieved maybe? "You're with the rebels right?" "...Yes, we are." Qara'Sion answered first for once. "Thank the Gods, follow me. We're going to the old Mosque near here." Yep he was relieved. A relieved redguard- "Wait. I remember we were supposed to meet at the main safehouse? What happened?" The redguard lowered his head and bit his bottom lip. "...I can explain on the way. Come." He responded before moving off. Qara'Sion turned to look at the others in confusion before he followed suit on the trail of the man.

“Tell me, friend, what of the safehouses?” Vendel asked as they followed the Redguard.

“Raids. Bad ones.” His voice told Vendel he was not willing to divulge any more. He realized there might not have been any more words needed.

“Raids?” Vendel echoed.

“They killed many of those who gave us shelter and many of those receiving it. Many of those fighting for Hammerfell’s independence are dead now.” He said, voice void of any sorrow.

“A hard blow.” Vendel remarked, carrying on with the others.

“Yes.” The man said, interest in conversation subsiding as he led them through twists and turns in the streets.

The group stayed silent for a while, something Vendel wasn’t all too disappointed about. He’d stay silent unless spoken to. This was Francis’s goal, to be with the Heroes and offer his blade, not his. Even so, he wouldn’t abandon a friend, especially not Francis.

The younger khajiit's eyes widened as his feet carried him forward. Raids? No it had to be more than that- "But how? I thought everything was going to plan?" His sister asked, showing worry in her voice for once. Something quite unlike her. No doubt she had a realization. "Shit... Shenzi-" "I know. Just stay quiet." The argonian had the same realization as she did. And Qara'Sion could probably quess just by their few words and tones. Had she not loved her brother, and had he gave into her bluff... they could have been dead right now. He began to worry for the sake of the others...

He rubbed his face once before he opened his mouth to speak once more. "...I apologize if this hurts to ask, but we need to know. What about those who fought? The prison break groups and others, how did they fair? There's a number of people of importance among them."

“Alive. Zaveed and the others are among the escapees and should be heading to the Old Mosque.” The man said.

It would be another few long minutes of traversing backalleys and sidestreets before they reached the Old Mosque in Old Hegathe. The buildings in the city ranged from derelict to inhabited but aged. Vendel looked over the faces of those he caught watching the group. Empty eyes, exhausted of the whole ordeal of the killing and dying around them. Vendel could understand and he kept his eyes ahead for the rest of the trip. Once they were outside of the doors of the Old Mosque, the cloaked man bowed before wordlessly leaving. Vendel led the way in but stepped out of the way of a Khajiit he didn’t look to apt to make conversation at the moment. Vendel simply walked inside, eyeing the two people already there. A small pause in his steps as he recognized one as Elayna, from the Mausoleum and the market. He held his head low as he placed Francis gingerly out of the way of the others. The unconscious Breton finally began to stir.