[b]Characters[/b]

[hider=S'kylir]"Ma'Kylir never lets them see her cry," the Khajiit growled through his teeth in pain. The Dunmer child frantically tried to wipe away the tears flowing from her eyes, only smearing her cheeks with dark blood for more tears to trace paths through. She couldn't take her hands away from the wound for too long. Blood poured from the gash in the massive warrior's gut and pooled in the sand. The ragged cloth under her small hands had become soaked and useless, but still she tried to stop the bleeding. She sniffled and gasped on the breaths her shaking body was trying to choke down. 
"I-- I can't stop it," she squeaked.
"Look here, kitten," he hissed and reached for her arm.
She squirmed away still trying to keep pressure on the wound, "P'ah, no I need to--"
A single paw snared both her slender wrists and ripped her around to look into the black cat's yellow eyes. "Look!," he roared at her before choking for a few moments, "Leave this one. Leave this place."
"No!" she fought against him in vain, "I'm staying with you!"
"Ma'Kylir..." he sighed, "It is good to be brave, but it is necessary to run away."
She shook her head but knew better than to look away from him for too long, "You always say that. I-- I won't! I'm not leaving!" she sobbed and shivered as she felt his blood starting to pool around her knees.
"You were not meant for these lands or this life," he whispered weakly, "You must run. They will find us soon." 
She shook her head again, clenching her teeth against a wobbling chin and another flow of heavy tears. She slumped over, putting her head on his chest and clinging to him as her body was wracked with her sobbing. Her face was hidden under matted locks of wild red hair. The unbeatable warrior was already growing cold.
"You grow strong, and clever and defiant... even to your great father," he chuckled, "I raised you well. This once, kitten, listen to your P'ah. Leave."
The girl rose up, ready to fight back once more, but dust on the horizon signaled that the soldiers were upon them. She looked at the dust then back at her father. He clumsily wiped the bloodied tears from her face with a thumb.
"Ma'Kylir never lets them see her cry."

---

"You caught the thieves?" The commander asked the Imperial soldier reporting.
"We arrested the gray-skin girl," he nodded, "We wounded the cat before they could leave town. The beast was already dead when we caught up to them, Sir."
The commander shrugged, "Good enough. She was the one we needed to question anyway."
"Sir, she stabbed one of my men in the neck when we arrested her."
"So put it in the report."
"He's dead, Sir! She should be executed regardless of her age!"
"There is unrest in the east and the Emperor may have use for her. Would you like to be the one to disobey His Majesty?"
The soldier was quiet a moment, "No, Sir."
"Back to your post then. The girl will be shipped off to the Imperial City prisons in the morning as planned."

---

The storm, the sound of waves smacking the side of the hull, the moisture that never seemed to stop clinging to her skin and most of all the smell. That hot, fetid, yet somehow sweet smell. She was still reeling from the events of the past few months when she stepped onto the docks of Seyda Neen. She scowled at the ship's crew, she scowled at the captain, and she scowled at the Imperial guard who came out to meet her. He was a credit to his race to be sure. Every stride was strong and purposefully placed. He stood straight with shoulders back and chest puffed. One hand wrapped around the hilt of his gladius, ever at the ready. When he spoke it was like velvet. He chose his words carefully in a masterful display of charisma and tact.
"We've been expecting you, Miss. Welcome to Morrowind and to the island of Vvardenfell," he said with a kind smile. He even went so far as to bow to her, "If you'll just follow me to the end of the docks to the Census and--"
"Imperial scum," she hissed as she pushed passed him roughly, "I'll find my own way."
The wrinkled balding man at the Census and Excise Office slid a stack of papers across the desk along with a pen. The Dunmer child looked between him and the paperwork. It was obvious she was vastly unimpressed with the whole process. She frowned and rolled the pen around slowly.
"If you don't mind," he started, "I'll need you to read over these papers--"
"I can't read," she interrupted.
"And fill in the appropriate information--" he continued.
"I can't write," she growled.
He sighed and looked at her from under sagging eye lids for what seemed an eternity. She glared right back. The old man took the papers from her and slid them back infront of himself and began to scrawl into various sections.
"What is your name?" he asked quietly.
"Ma'Ky--" she stopped and thought a moment, "S'Kylir," she replied.
"That's a Khajiiti name, isn't it? How does a mer come by such an... unusual title?" he jotted it down regardless.
She rose and leaned forward on the desk, "Is there something wrong with it?" she asked in a very low, very quiet voice.
He glanced up into her burning eyes, barely visible through the unkempt wild mess of long red hair.
"No," he responded.
With a flutter of robes and papers he bolted up from his chair and whisked the paperwork into a tight, neat roll and wrapped them with a small length of jute. He was careful not to look at the little demon child. The roll was thrust into her chest where she snatched it away roughly.
"You will present these papers to the lieutenant in the next building. He will have orders for you. If you choose not to follow them you will be considered a deserter of the Imperial Army. In which case you will not be sent back to the dungeons of Cyrodiil. You will remain in the dungeons of Fort Ebonhart here in Vvardenfell and believe me..." He finally looked at her, "Your kind have ways of breaking a prisoner that cannot be repaired."
She ignored him and stomped through the door that the guard opened for her.[/hider]

[hider=Cael Dursus & Kardryn]
The hull of the blasted Aldmeri monstrosity was as foul as the depths of Oblivion. Most of the passengers were prisoners in chains. Undesirables, traitors, petty criminals, people who knew too much, people who found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time, enemies of The Dominion. Some were passengers who had paid for passage to another world. It was a risk to leave it all behind and traverse into an untamed land where death was more likely than the freedom they were seeking. However, considering the abysmal and terrifying state Tamriel had fallen into, the risk was well worth it to those with enough desperation or fortitude. A large man hunched, cloaked, hooded and masked who sat silent and still belonged to the latter group. Prisoners and passengers alike were stuffed into the same dark, stinking hole. Little light, no beds and save for what they had brought on their backs, no food and filthy water. It had been three days since they had left port in Mournhold. Just as many prisoners had already died. Instead of throwing the bodies overboard the Aldmeri soldiers who crewed the ship simply left them to fester. Hopefully it wouldn't be long now. He would survive, but the little passenger inside his cloak was starting to slip away.

In the sparse glimmer of sunlight the trickled in through the grate that lead down into the hull he was able to examine it. Very carefully he fished the little burlap bag of soil out of it's pocket. The tiny pastel leaves poking out of the fabric around a tightly sealed bud, which were normally plump and waxy, were limp, thin and dry. His eyes flashed to the grate, open just enough for the soldiers to slip in and out of at their leisure. It was nearly dusk. They had been told not to go on deck, but a punishment had never been spoken of and nobody had tried for fear of the often brutal methods used by the elves. He lightly touched one of the vulnerable little leaves. He wasn't afraid. With aching and stiff muscles and joints he rose from the wooden bench and slid through the throngs of unwashed people and silently slipped up the large ladder and onto the deck.

With only one or two soldiers on patrol he was able to slip out of sight easily. He made his way to the front of the ship and dropped down to one of the catwalks below the main deck. It rattled under his weight and shifted. He stood still, listening and feeling his surroundings. He took a deep breath. Luck was on his side today else the rusty steel may have snapped under his feet leaving him to plummet into the ocean. The last rays of sun still glinted through the clouds that would be rolling in tonight. There wasn't much left but it would be enough for the starving seedling. He crouched slowly, and sat with his legs crossed before pulling it back out again so the sun could touch the leaves and hopefully refresh them. He let out a muffled sigh.

The wind was icy and damp and pulled at his cloak and pack. The last days of Frostfall were passing them by and soon a harsh winter would take the place of a hellish summer. He wondered what the seasons, plants and animals would be like on Akavir. Alien and strange probably, but would they be just as beautiful as the changes and life cycles of his first home in Cyrodiil had once been? Or would the landscape be war-torn and barren as it had become?

"You there!" a shout came from above him followed by dashing footsteps. He jumped to his feet and considered running but there was no point. He couldn't risk fighting back and the only place he could run was back the the hull. He waited for the young Aldmeri decked out in immaculate golden armor, clean shaven with long flaxen hair plaited perfectly down his back to reach him before putting the plant back in it's pocket inside his cloak. He glared up into the youth's dark eyes.

"What are you doing here!?" he stood straight and shouted.

He didn't respond.

"Speak, wretch!" the elf snarled.

He stood still and watched his every move with fiery orange eyes, the only part of his face that was visible under the mask, bandanna and hood.

The soldier raised a club over his shoulder ready to strike, "Fine. I'll loosen that tongue!"

"Cadet," A low, raspy voice stopped his hand.

The young elf dropped his arm and wheeled around to face a ragged figure that was walking slowly toward them, "S-Sir!" he stood at attention immediately, "Warden Kardryn, this passenger is trespassing on deck and he refuses to answer when questioned. Allow me to punish him."

"That one's mute," the Warden said matter-of-factly.

As he got closer the man in the cloak could make out the bastardized pieces of elven armor that once must have been part of an exquisite uniform, but which were now tarnished, torn down and refurbished with leather and furs and straps to make them more adequate for battle and the hard life on board a cramped airship. The Warden had a long, thin pipe clutched in his teeth and was whittling away at a piece of wood. Messy auburn hair flowed over his face and shoulders but he could just make out a strap of leather covering one of his eyes.

The Cadet hesitated a moment, but spoke again, "That does not excuse him from leaving the hull, Sir."

Kardryn was now uncomfortably close to the young elf. Just a few extra inches of height let him look down on his subordinate, "Get back to your post, Lord Tight-Britches. I'll take care of it." The Cadet obeyed but not without scowling over his shoulder as he strode away. With a hoarse sigh Kardryn dropped down and sat on the catwalk with his legs dangling through the railing, "Sorry about that, the newcomers are so fresh out of the divine system's cunt they're still wet behind the ears." He looked up at the masked man and smiled warmly and continued his carving. "Don't worry, I'm not sending you back below just yet. Not sure I could take someone your size in a fight anyhow," he chuckled.

Cautiously, the man sat down along side the Aldmer and pulled the seedling back out to breathe and sun. 

"Everything about this place is disgusting isn't it? We'll be on the southern shores of Akavir by tomorrow evening. Lucky you. You get to get off this pile of horse shit. I'd get away from the prisoners quick, though if I were you. They aren't there by choice, got nothing to lose and don't have the well-being of the whole in mind. If you're a saint you'll grab a woman or two while you're busy running away from them," Kardryn went on and the man had long since started to stare at him intently. 

Webs of old scars ran out from the eye patch but his other eye was deep brown, warm and still bright, even for the dark circle under it. It didn't seem like he was going to stop talking any time soon, though every word was so raspy and dry it sounded like it hurt. Braids fastened with beads, bones and other talismans were matted into his hair, which was flecked with a strand of gray here and there. Quite the opposite to common high elven fashion. It was all wrong. The long fingers were scarred, but still dexterous and soft. There weren't enough wrinkles on his face. While the elegant middle aged members of his species became chiseled like stone, he still had a roundness to his face. He was too young. Far too young to be in this condition. And yet people like him were common these days in Tamriel. Those who had seen too much, given up on everything and started to rot away before their time.

Eventually the sun set and the air grew too cold. The masked man put the little treasure away into the warmth and the Warden had no choice but to lead him back to the hull... without a punishment.

---

They all filed out into the brilliance of the Akaviri sun. The airship was a clamorous mess while the land was silent. They had touched down on a rocky beach covered in foliage he had never seen the likes of before. Massive tall trees with long fronds at the very top, curling vines, bright flowers, ferns larger than any on Tamriel, scrubs and mosses that covered every damp surface in shades of acid green and slate blue, and basin like leaves that poked out among the stumps of trees to catch the rains. The hum of insects could be heard deeper in the thick forest if one could tune out the noise of the soldiers and their machine. While the air above the ocean had been cold, the humidity, sun and millions upon billions of breathing, thriving living things on the continent made it uncomfortably warm for being so late in the year. For now he remained hidden underneath the sweltering clothes. He would have to. The Warden and the Captain of the ship were kind enough to separate the prisoners from the passengers who started to file off while the prisoners while released from their chains. All the while at the end of long, steel contraptions, not unlike a staff pointed at them. He watched the scene once clear of the soldiers and started to pack up what he didn't need to wear.

The cloak first revealing the hand axe he carried at his hip and several satchels. Then the mask which had been covering the dark veins that spread from his mouth, eyes and ears. Rolling up his sleeves revealed more of them webbing his arms and the back of his hands. He spit on the ground and wiped his mouth. Such a relief. He considered the bandanna next but heard someone behind him. He turned with a frown. There was nothing they could do to him on this soil. Nobody could touch him here. There were no laws. He would kill them. It was only the Warden who stopped and smirked.

"Came to tell you, we've heard rumors of a settlement of exiles to the west and thought you might be able to find sanctuary there... Or maybe not," He said looking him up and down, "Anyway, good luck out there and thanks for letting me prattle on at you... uh..."

The man smiled and snorted, showing off rows of jagged teeth and shook his head. He crouched and with a finger wrote a word in the sand. Kardryn watched.

"Cael?"

Cael stood and nodded while unfastening the bandanna. He refastened the tie around his long black hair and scratched his scalp. Freedom.

"Well then..." Kardryn pursed his lips, "Good luck, Cael... and yeah. I would stay away from the exile settlement. Things here are weird but not quiet as weird as that," he laughed and gestured at the short black horns that swept out of the man's forehead and back along his skull.

He nodded, finished packing his things, fastened the seedling to a safe spot on his pack and set out into the wild. Nobody could touch him here.[/hider]