Francis stirred himself awake, looking over at his hulking friend sitting next to him, still awake. He couldn’t quite tell if he was alive, if this was all real and his mind started rushing towards possibilities that he was in some sort of purgatory before Vendel looked down at him, “You’re alive.”

“Yes. How did I get here? The battle, did we win?” Francis asked.

“We won, barely. You’ve got a few new scars for the tavern wenches to ogle now.” Vendel said, something in his face told Francis the comment was bitter rather than joking.

“I guess I do,” Francis said, pushing himself up from the floor to sit on his arse with his back against the wall, “What of the others?”

“Alive.” Vendel said.

“And the Khajiit?” Francis looked around the room for a Khajiit, not finding any, he feared the worst of his savior.

The doors opened and in strolled the Khajiit he’d seen when he was half-dead, laying in his own blood. He looked to Vendel, wondering if that was the same Khajiit. Vendel nodded and Francis got to his feet with some work. He still felt sore and tight in a few places as he made his way to the Khajiit. He cleared his throat in attempt to get the Khajiit’s attention, sketching as good a court bow as his sore body permitted, he said, “Hello,” recovering from the court bow, he went to rest his hand on the pommel of his bastard sword but found none, throwing the thought away to what was at hand, he nodded and continued, “You saved my life, Khajiit. Can a man know the name of his savior? You have my gratitude, my loyalty and my sword- uh- when I find it again.” He smiled sheepishly, looking down at his empty scabbard.

Stopping in his tracks, Qara'Sion only turned his eyes to face the person speaking to him with arms folded. This one was one of the people he healed during the battle: the friend of the large nord. He remained as still as could be, hearing the man's words: a hello, a thank you, and an asking of his name accompanied with a slightly distracted bow. He was in no mood to speak with a stranger, nor to hear false pledges of loyalty as he believed it to be. So the easiest and non-rudest way of hurrying the soon to be short lived conversation along was to give quick answers. Arms still folded and eyes locked on the speaker, the khajiit turned to face the breton. "Qara'Sion. You're very welcome. Is there something else you wish to ask?" He was blunt and stern in his voice. Just move this along as quick as possible, and go speak with Shenzi. That was what the khajiit wanted.

"Excuse me if I have intruded, but I wanted to just humbly share my appreciation and gratitude to the Khajiit that saved my life, you see." Francis said, sensing that he wasn't quite welcome at the moment.

"I understand that we won a hard battle, one that I regrettably did not take part in for long before I was cut down, as it were. Again, if it wasn't for you, I would not have survived my wounds. Thank you, and I'm sure many others in need cherish men, mer and betmer of your disposition." Francis looked to Elayna, still sitting far away with a Nord woman. 
Zaveed had not shown up yet and Francis wondered where he was, "Do you know where the Heroes are? It would be my understanding that they are in Hegathe. Please, do correct me if I am wrong."

Qara'Sion's disposition did not change even in the slightest way even from receiving the breton's thanks. He only shifted his stand off-ish pose and blinked once, staring at the man. He only gave a simple nod to show a bit of mutual respect to the breton. His eyes followed the other's to see where he was looking. The khajiit could obviously see where he was looking at, but couldn't pinpoint exactly what...

Then his question came up. He could only sigh, lower and shake his head as his immediate response. He was right, he knew he was right. So many people in this world asking for the heroes... and so many burdens they carried. Zaveed was pissed off, Gorzath was dead, and Gods know where Hralvar and Sevari were... and any other heroes.

Picking up his head to look the breton once more in his eyes, Qara'Sion stoically spoke. "Zaveed is outside, and I suggest you do not speak to him at the moment. And Gorzath died today."

The khajiit felt as if he was going to repeat his sentence often tonight. At least, the last part of his sentence. At that, Francis inhaled sharply and his brow furrowed. Did hereally hear what he though he heard? Gorzath was dead? How? Krieger's shadowy monsters couldn't bring him down, nor the others under Krieger's command and he was felled now? Francis looked at the ground, not sure of what to make of it. After the Mausoleum, he, Gorzath, Elayna, Vendel, even Wets-His-Blade made a pact to take whatever they saw within the Mausoleum to their graves, they'd made of eachother a sort of brethren in silence. Francis held Elayna, Blade and Gorzath in high regards ever since the Mausoleum. He would never divulge what happened, but they were all brave.

"I can tell that you've said the truth." Francis said, grimly, unsure of what else to say, "He was with me, you know? On the Necromancer's Isle, we stood together against monstrosities the world was never meant to see. None of us wish to speak of it, but he was a brave Orc. Elayna too," he spared another look, unsure if Elayna, another member of the small pact, knew of Gorzath's fate yet, "Who else knows?"

Hearing his words, Qara'Sion tilted his head in confusion. He had mentioned the Necromancer's Isle and Elayna's name... which was off. That was one of the "requests" asked of the group back when, yet the khajiit didn't go along with the group to the potentially horrid place. The only ones he could remember going there were the hero, the alchemist, and the gladiator. Blade would be understandable in terms of knowing his name because the khajiit knew he was a fighter... Elayna was the reason he felt curious about how much this breton knew about them. Because as far as Qara'Sion knew, Elayna didn't appear to be the kind of person to have a celebrity title status to her name alone... 

He straightened his head and removed the bewildered look from his face, returning to his no nonsense appearance. "Did you really know them? I've been along side the two for quite a bit so I'm a bit hesitant to just say whatever unless you give me a reason to. And you're potentially the first one to know Gorzath is no longer with us."

"I'm very sorry," Francis began, "You knew him far longer than I did, but I too feel like I lost a companion. You remember Nadeen, yes? From Stros M'kai? Mine and Vendel's captain at the time shared an interest of hers, she needed to prove to the Lord of Stros M'kai that she and the insurgency were useful. Captain Alaire and his men, which I was once apart of, needed to kill Krieger for his crimes. Nadeen saw an opportunity in the Captain and that is when I met Gorzath and Elayna as well as Wets-His-Blade, on the island when we were in camp together. Ask Elayna what she saw there and she too will not speak of it."

"None of us will. I am sad to know that Gorzath is among today's dead." Francis frowned, giving a small head-bow, "My condolences."

That... was a bit unnerving. He never bothered to ask about what happened on the isle, he was just glad the three made it out in one piece... Qara'Sion began to scratch his chin in curiosity. A side of him did want to know what happened, and the other side didn't want to question it. Was it really that horrendous for people to decide they should never speak of it? Just what in the oblivion was going on in this world...?

...The other name he spoke of, Nadeen made the khajiit growl in annoyance. Only because of the memory of some stranger using them to their own benefit. He wasn't the only one who complained about doing the "requests" as a few others did as well. He knew because of these requests more people were dragged into the fight, and more people fell. 

Qara'Sion rubbed the temples of his forehead, lowering his hand to his side as he opened his mouth to speak. "You're not the only one who's sorry. Many people will be sad to hear of Gorzath's passing. Apologies if I sound rude right now but today was a rough day for us all. If you want to speak with Zaveed, it would be smarter to wait."

The khajiit paused before thinking a moment. Maybe the breton would tell him about what happened at the isle.... "Although I do want to know. What happened at the island? So much had happened from then and now, I never got a chance to ask. Originally, I could have gone with them, but I dealt with another problem instead. I had saved Blade's life awhile ago so it would be interesting to hear what he exactly went up against." He couldn't help from smirking slightly just from his last statement. It was always a bit of fun to antagonize the argonian about when he first met the group. And hopefully... the breton would give a bit more detail so the khajiit would know whether to put a bit of faith in him or not...

Francis's hand drifted to the scar in his side, where his heart could have been pierced had Vendel not been there. The half-buried monolith jutting up from the ground beneath the Mausoleum, the corpse-bride, the stench of the entire place wafted back into his nostrils and he felt like gagging once more. Darkness, shadows moving, helplessness, running. Pain, the feeling of hopelessness their gaze inspired. Krieger had been a horrid man, the bodies, they were everywhere...

He looked back up and let his hand fall to his side, "Forgive me. I can only say that you should count yourself thankful to not have been there," he swallowed, staying in silent thought before opening up again in whispers, "What I saw there, Qara'Sion, there is not a day that goes by where a few minutes I spend gripped in terror at the prospect of what was on that island escaping. If there was ever a personification of evil, Krieger would be it. It was horrifying, disgusting, I never knew men were capable of such monstrous acts and be able to smile all at the same time. I will never rest easy until the Isle is swallowed by the depths. There are dark things in men's minds, Qara'Sion, dark things."

He gulped, feeling a deep burning well in his stomach seem to open up and his old scar from the Mausoleum begged for him to touch it. His hand strayed there again and he looked into Qara'Sion's eyes with the most sincerity he'd ever put into any words, "I will never speak of it. Krieger deserved far more than death. We lost half of our men on that island and even though they knew the risks, I don't want to share their fate."

No, this one would not tell him what had happened. He only needed to hear "I will never speak of it." to know the breton would never say what actually happened. Not just his words alone, his body actions told the khajiit that he meant what he said. It was an uncomfortable subject... maybe it would be best if Qara'Sion didn't know. Even he knew how dark one's mind could actually be. 

Possibly, he was blessed to not go along with them against... Krieger was it? He didn't even know the name of the man or mer who was evidently, that malicious. And he could have died fighting once more against someone for something he had no part in. Another reason to solidify his decision of not fighting in this three-way deadlock war. There could be a random sadistic bastard taking his chance to strike and he could die from that, let alone the dominion or dwemer...

Qara'Sion moved his hand to cover his eyes as if he could be crying. Just from the breton's story alone made him fear the world. He had to worry about three different sides of the war, his family, and others? On top of the fact of some bizarre psychopaths that could just pop out of the blue? He felt conflicted between many thoughts. Friendship, memories, loyalty, fear, anger, regret, shame, blame. Why couldn't this all just stop...? He didn't know how to act, how to speak, or even how to feel...

He removed his hands from his face, instantly adopting the same expression from before. Just to hide his emotions and up-coming memories. "...Regardless, thank you for fighting with them. By the way, you may want to thank your hulking friend over there yourself if you haven't. He's the one that found me to heal you."

Francis looked back at Vendel, who nodded to him before he looked back to Qara'Sion, "Well, my thanks go to both of you then," Francis frowned and nodded, looking at the ground, knowing he could have died, knowing Gorzath was dead, "Take care, Qara'Sion." He said, turning away and walking back to his and Vendel's place.