It had been a long day.

It was true. Francis had never fought like that before, nothing he’d experienced, bar the Mausoleum, was ever so hellish. How many men had he killed today? Three? One of those three was his first as well. A young man told to put down the riots and maintain peace. Peace, Francis thought, What would it all be like if the peace was kept? It was a thought. Perhaps Francis would be in Wayrest with a warm bed and a woman. He’d be home with his sister and Vendel would be making merry with the locals. There was Old Jean, who always made sure to pay for his drinks but would always slide the cup back to the barkeep with an extra coin under it so no one would swipe it before Anneliese could find it hidden away for her. Old Jean was a good man, old, just like his name told, old enough to remember a time where Wayrest wasn’t a refuge for outcasts and criminals. Even when the city changed for the worse, he didn’t let it change him.

Francis smiled as he remembered and for a moment, he was back in the tavern with Anneliese serving drinks, Vendel keeping the rabble out and he would always be chatting with Brunhilde. She was a Nord lass, strong, but beautiful. Shocking blue eyes like the Ice Fields of Northern Skyrim, blonde hair like sunrays. When he finally steps foot back on that dock in Wayrest, he’d chat with her some more. Maybe hold down a job, save up, and get an amulet of Mara. Who knows, maybe she’d say yes to someone who was more of a man than when he left. Maybe she’d say yes to someone who’d met a Hero, stood against a Necromancer, fought an army of tyrants and traveled to lands most never get to travel to and only hear the stories that merchants tell. Maybe he’d be a man worth calling friend, and a brother worth hugging and trusting to protect his sister.

Francis looked at Vendel. The big Nord was asleep, his head sagging to one side and his bear’s shoulders drooping. Even with the burly shoulders, barrel chest and warrior’s beard he’d been growing since Stros M’kai, Francis knew him as a man much more than just frightening in a scrap or a giant to be ogled. Francis got himself to his feet and looked around the room. He saw Elayna and figured he should talk to her. Something to get his mind off of today, at least. He crossed the room and stood before her, “Miss Elayna, I believe I owe you an apology for spoiling your experience at the market stalls.” He offered an apologetic smile.

Zainat paused outside the Mosque, a look of worry etched across his rough but handsome (By Dunmer Standards) Ashlander face. Would the others think him a coward for not taking part in the assassination of the guard captain? "<Fucking bastard outlanders.>" He muttered under his breath in Dunmeris as he remembered what had waylaid him. 

He had... 'overslept' by a while, the only thing that cued him in was the sounds of the riot, and while he had enough time to catch up to Blades if he hurried, and he was. As he was leaving Methra's home, he came face to face with six of the criminals that Zaveed had released - Obviously these people weren't political prisoners, as they seemed to be intent on taking advantage of the distracted guards and committing more of the crimes that had gotten them imprisoned in the first place. One of them as known to Zainat - Last time he had been in the city a redguard of his description was caught after murdering close to twenty people - Zainat himself had almost been slain by the n'wah when he tried collecting the bounty on him. 

It had been a brutal fight - The redguard was a superiorly trained former Aliki'r and his friends were no cowards either. He had taken quite a few injuries during the fight (Thankfully, Methra had given him a few Potions of Healing as he was leaving), and by the time he had killed the six of them and had made it to the Captain's barracks, it was too late. 

Zainat inhaled sharply, and then entered the Mosque, muttering under his breath in Dunmeris. <"You are the Gulakhan of the Urshilaku, direct decendant of Sul-Matuul. You will face this dishonor with pride."> His eyes were lowered, and he continued to walk forwards, ,uttering under his breath until he accidentally walked right into someone. "Apologies, friend, I a-..." He trailed off as he saw who he had bumped into: The heretically ignorant Breton from the market stalls.

Elayna looked up from her formula, which she had returned to after her short introspection. A familiar voice spoke her name, though not one she had exactly enjoyed hearing. Not because of its owner, but because of the memories that stuck to every word, like rotting flesh. Her jade eyes met his, and she could see the pain of the day writhing in them. She offered him a ragged smile, understanding that pain. She was one of the few of that group still around that could. Gorzath was...gone. And Blade was yet to be seen. "Never mind that, Francis. Gave me a proper fright, for a moment, but it did serve it's purpose. Just glad to see that you and your friend made it." Elayna looked down at Toad in her lap, as he squirmed a bit, before looking back to Francis.

She could see beyond him slightly, and see someone enter the Mosque. The Breton couldn't tell who it was exactly at first, in the dimness, but as he grew closer, Elayna rolled her eyes, "Oh, by the Eight...Franc-" Elayna tried to warn, but it was too late. Zainat had bumped into the Breton man, and recognition had flickered in his dark eyes. "Zainat, how lovely to see you're alright!" The young woman calmly cheered, a bit forced, as she knew what was about to happen.

“Barely,” Francis smiled, scratching at his shirt, “I’m glad to know that you’ve made it as well. Of course, I never saw you at the riot. Were you the-” Francis stepped aside for whoever had bumped into his back.

“Pardon, my frie-” Francis’s polite, but haggard, smile melted away into an unbelieving visage.

Francis was not expecting to see the face he was looking at now. There was nothing going on around the room besides him and the Dunmer merchant, whose name escaped him. Francis, cursed himself for losing his sword, but remembered the dagger sheathed at the small of his back. It was the best he had to defend himself against this crazed merchant. He must have wanted to kill him badly if he followed him all the way to the mosque. Had he offended him that badly? Even so, apologies were given, none were accepted. After surviving today’s events, Francis was in no mood to die by the hands of some uppity merchant who was better at holding grudges than making sales.

“To what do I owe this meeting,” Elayna’s cheerful voice sounded from behind him, revealing the Dunmer’s name, “Zainat?”

A presence looming about him reassured him somewhat. The long shadow of Vendel, ready to draw three feet of cold, Nordic steel, cast itself over him. He hoped Vendel wouldn’t let his anger get the best of him. He knew the events of the riot already had him on edge but he did not want to have to fight anyone. Francis swallowed.

“I’ve never met a man or mer so yearning for death as to follow me and mine behind our backs-”

“Enough! Vendel, Zainat, none of us want or need a fight, no? Let us not have one. It has been a long day and I’ve died twice more than I’ve planned to in my life. What say you, Zainat,” Francis offered, “No fights.”

Zainat looked surprised for a long moment - Not expecting to bump into the two highky skilled men he had fought the day before. He gowered angrily at Francis, and began pulling his razor sharp chitin shortsowrd from its sheath - Before he heard Elayna speak to him. He stopped drawing the blade, but kept his hand on the hilt as a precaution. Even if Elayna seemed comfortable around the two men, they seemed to have developed a strange, almost stalker-ish tendency towards his friends - Meeting them two days in a row by chance was, in Zainat's mind, impossible. He had no intention in allowing them to follow Elayna, or any of his allies about.

He nodded at Elayna, and crossed his arms across his chest and gave a faint bow. "I am glad that you are alright as well, Serjo Elayna. I bring grave tidings, however." He said his voice holding no small measure of warmth, before turning his attention to Francis and his more friend who's name sounded suspiciously like 'vandal', something Zainat found rather apt, his hand once more going to the hilt of his sword.

"Ill favored fate and Ill luck is owed for this meeting, Breton." He said, his voice rather cold as he eyed the man, well aware that the last time he fought the two talented swordsmen that they worked well in tandem, keeping him from being able to focus on and kill them one at a time. "I hope that you have paid proper courtesy to Elayna." He said, referencing the strange way Ashlanders tended to act to outsiders and expect outsiders to act around them.

As the More awoke and rose, beginning to threaten Zainat, he quickly drew his blade from its sheath, his honor pricked. "Following you? You are the ones who seem to be following my friends, you milk-drinking snowberry."
However, after a moment, he put up his blade and nodded at Francis, his jaw squared. "No fights." He agreed, suddenly looking very tired. "I got caught by a few escaped convicts on my way to the Guard Captain's quarters. They were well trained." He said with a sigh. "From the look of you, you must be one of 'us' as well." With a shallow bow -not deep enough to be respectfull, but just enough to not be rude, he introduced himself.

" I am Zainat Ashurnasaddas of the Ushilaku tribe, son of Dutadalk Ashurnasaddas, Ashkhan of the Ushilaku." He said, distrust still evident in his eyes, but willing to speak plainly to them.

Elayna heaved a sigh of relief as the trio managed to, barely, hold back from ripping each other's throats out. She bowed slightly in return to Zainat, assuring him that she wasn't mistreated or disrespected in any way by Francis or Vendel. "These gentlemen are part of the reason I made it off Stros M'kai alive. I do trust them, Zainat." Elayna reinforced, wanting to at least somewhat lessen the tension if she could. Which, given the situation of the day, the current predicament, and everyone's moods, that was like asking Sanguine to put down the wine.

The bit about being caught by the guards worried her a bit. Could that have been what happened to Blade? He was a beast, and she'd seen his untamed carnage first-hand. The thought of the guards possibly taking him down was...unnerving, to say the least. After formal introductions had been exchanged, in the most neutral way he could, Elayna sat back down and turned to Francis. "You said you didn't see me at the riots? That'd be because I was with Zaveed and Reigenleif, freeing the guards' prisoners. Such open conflict isn't my strong suit." The Breton looked down, before glancing up at the three men, "...what happened?" She felt she had to ask, as they had been a ways away from the bulk of the riots.

"Death." Vendel grimly muttered, his voice a low bear's growl.

As Vendel very reluctantly removed his hand from the hilt of his sword, Francis turned to Elayna, "Many died, but moreso for the Guards. My being here is proof that we at least won by the skin off our brow." Francis smiled and chuckled, "Earned myself a few new scars too."

"And what of you, Zainat? Busy selling your rugs or were you hiding for the fights?" Vendel asked, a gruff laugh escaped past his lips.

Zainat nodded at Elayna. "If you trust them, then that is enough." Zainat said, with a wry grin, his blood tinted eyes peering at the two men before he sighed, and shook his head sadly. "I have a bad feeling about the raid - by the time I arrived there I was late, and the guards had locked down the area. I barely escaped without getting seen - I had to cut the throats of a few guards who were in the wrong place, blocking my exit." He furrowed his brow again, and glanced at Elayna. "Where is Blade? I don't see him around - Like I said, I have a bad feeling about it all."his tone betraying surprising concern for the Saxhleel warrior.

He blinked at Vendel's insulting comment, his brow furrowing in anger. "Are you as stupid as you look, Nord, or are you deaf? I said I was fighting criminals who escaped imprisonment during the raids who I ran into while I was on my way to assassinate the Captain of the Guard." He took a step towards Vendel, his hand on his blade, his shoulders squared, his honor slighted. He wasn't nearly as tall as Vendel, but Francis and the Nord would remember that Zainat was no easy fight - And they were tired from the earlier fighting, while Zainat was not.

"I could make you both, knife-ear. Come against me looking to take my life and you won't be walking away." Vendel growled, an animal smile curving his lips.

"You will do no such thing. There are dwemer in the streets looking to kill all of us in here. Let's not give them a helping hand." Francis looked at Zainat, noting his blade and his own lack of his own. It would be stupid to try to fight and he didn't want Vendel dragging him into one. "Stay away from him and he'll stay away from you. If you're killing the same men and mer as Vendel and I then we'll get along fine enough. I trust you're honorable enough for that."

Francis found the mer insufferable, to be honest. Concerned too much with his heathen Daedra and some notion of honor to see he and Vendel were not foes. Francis had never met a Dunmer before Zainat, but if they were all like that, he never wanted to again. High Rock never boasted much of a Dunmer population and not even Wayrest had many. Francis turned back to Elayna with words to speak.

"You freed the guards' prisoners? It doesn't seem Zaveed's style to let criminals run rampant through the streets."

Elayna solemnly stroked Toad's dirty fur, nodding her head. "Yes. Won by a hair...Gods rest their souls." She muttered under her breath, a half-assed condolence, she knew, but it was all that escaped her. They'd survived the massacre of the Imperial City, but this was yet another high pile of corpses. It had, unfortunately, been getting easier and easier to swallow for the young Alchemist, but there was still that cold stone of "barely" winning that sat in her stomach.

When Zainat and Vendel started going at it once more, she delivered them both as icy a glare as she could muster, pooling some frosty fog in her palms. "Bark at each other again, and I freeze your tongues solid. Got it?" She dispelled the small amount of mist, slouching once more. Elayna wasn't in the mood to revisit the market incident when Dwemer were looking for their heads. She looked back up to Francis afterward, nodding, "I'd usually agree. But they were part of the insurrection and were put away for it. Good men and women, at least the majority. I suppose we saved each other's lives."

Vendel looked to Francis at Elayna’s warning. He simply offered a nod, [i]she would do it[/I]. He hoped Zainat would follow Elayna’s warning as well. After Elayna spoke her piece about the prison break, he spared a thought as to what she said. Even if they were part of the insurrection, what was stopping those who were former criminals from committing more crimes? If one of the Heroes was as short-sighted as the prison-break would have him believe, and the fact Zainat was accosted by suspected escaped prisoners, he wondered if he should even be throwing his lot in with this group. He had ties to Elayna though, and while his sister was far away and probably safe, he knew Gorzath was dead, Blade was nowhere to be found and Elayna was the only one here he knew for sure was alive that shared the bond of surviving horrors incomprehensible.

“A fast-forged alliance of necessity, eh? Not unlike the Mausoleum. Gorzath may be gone and Blade may be captured, but we are still here. I will be at your side, ready to fight, and maybe we can rescue another friend and ally from his fate at the hands of the Dwemer.” Francis spared a glance at the Dunmer next to him, wondering if he was with Blade, the big lizard would be with them now. It was no more use fighting over whose fault it was for Blade’s capture than it was complaining about the darkness at night. It was best to just light a torch, to do something about it.

With that, Francis had the inkling of an idea. A half-baked plan that may grow into something more ironclad, but things tended to go unexpectedly good when Francis found something to do. Sometimes. But doing something about Blade’s capture was something to do, after all. A smile spread across his lips and perhaps when Elayna and Zainat were better rested and things around the city had died down, he’d propose what he’d thought up. For now though, “I will let you both rest. Tensions are running high in the city and hopefully conversations will be more civil and fruitful when our heads clear. Elayna,” Francis bowed his head, “Zainat.” He said, bowing again. He and Vendel returned to their place at the far wall.