[center][b][i]A Discussion of Kamal's[/i][/b][/center] [i]A collab by[/i] [@gcold][@Peik][@MiddleEarthRoze][@Hyperdrive][@MacabreFox]

The shopkeeper tugged on the sleeves of Ariane's robes. Rough, calloused hand pulled on smooth spidersilk. The fine dress-like robe was slightly dirtied with dust and wood chips, making its formerly un-Nordic finery much more earthly. For an odd and rickety man, the shopkeeper pulled with a surprising amount of strength. The Dunmer man was no longer hunched like yesterday, and he blazed past guards and citizens in a light jog.

“[color=7ea7d8]Woah, slow down there.[/color]” Ariane beckoned him. She pried his hand off her sleeve and held the man steady. “[color=7ea7d8]What are you showing me? I thought you were just a regular merchant yesterday.[/color]”

“I am that, in most times. Sorry about the thugs yesterday, they were extremely persuasive with their blades.” The merchant murmured, barely loud enough above the rush. “Anyways, my shop also has the odds and ends, treasures most would call junk.” He began jogging forward again and Ariane had to weave through a batch of guards to keep up. When she lost sight of the shopkeeper and caught him again, he was standing with another dark elf.

“[color=82ca9d]Is it true?[/color]” Madura asked, he could hardly contain his excitement. “[color=82ca9d]You have an artifact, maybe the tear of the Ash-king, said to imbue normal men strength of heroes. Or is it Vivec's quill? It could re-write history-[/color]”

“I know none of your absurd fantasies.” The shopkeeper brushed the journalist off. He paused for a second for Ariane to catch up. “Is he another sellsword of yours?”

“[color=7ea7d8]Maybe, I've seen him beside Ashav.[/color]” Ariane shrugged. She would not have known Madura's role in the company, for she was not present with him in the Reach.

“[color=82ca9d]I am the journalist, chronicler or recorder, as many call me.[/color]” Madura declared, quite proud of himself.

“Aren't you now,” The shopkeeper said. “You're going to be busy.”

Following the victory - that was, if one could call it a victory - Roze was unsure on what to do with herself. She had no skills in healing the wounded below, and frankly, the screams of the dying were more than enough to put her off going onto the docks.

"[color=f6989d]I'll meet you two back at the warehouse, or something.[/color]" She began, looking to Sevine and Leif. No doubt Sevine wished to go down and find Jorwen among the injured and dead. Hopefully, he was unharmed. Looking back down the walls, she couldn't find him - normally, it would be easy, simply looking for the bright red of his hair and beard. But there was red everywhere - fires crackling from leftover mages spells; the fire salts; and the blood. So much damned blood. There hadn't even been this much at the Forsworn camp.

"[color=f6989d]I'm going to try and find out what these things were - and if they've hit any other places before Windhelm.[/color]" Roze added in a somewhat dubious tone as she left Leif and Sevine, heading down the icy steps towards the street. 

"[color=a2d39c]We'll keep an eye out for you then.[/color]" Leif nodded in response to Roze's words. Sevine looked at the diminuitive Breton woman before her, and offered her an exhausted smile.

The moans of the injured were even louder down here - guards hurrying by, carrying stretchers of the living and the dead, blood pouring from all. After seeing one too many missing limbs, Roze retreated further in the city - hoping to find someone who knew what these things had been, and where they had came from. Normally, she wouldn't be one to flee from carnage like this - but she had to know if there was any possibility if these things had stopped off at Solstheim.

Heading around a corner, she noticed two of her group talking with a particularly frazzled looking Dunmer. She recognized one as Madura - the journalist travelling with the company. Deciding that these three were as good as any to find information from, Roze headed over, bow still grasped firmly in her hand. She'd been unable to pry her fingers from it as of yet - the stress and the adrenaline had locked her fingers around the cold metal, as she had fired arrow after arrow upon the monsters.

"[color=f6989d]Excuse me - but do you know where those things came from?[/color]" She asked bluntly to all three of them, deciding to not wait on pleasantries. 

"[color=8493ca]At last, some respite.[/color]"

Huffing out moon smoke, Sadri leaned back on a crate containing fire salts, shifting his legs uneasily on another crate that contained Anu-knows-what. He was too tired to care, and too stressed out. Thankfully, Mora was helping with that, swelling more and more with every suckle from the side of Sadri's eye. Sadri had mended the wound with magick after he had entered Candlehearth Hall to get his belongings in case of an evacuation. Having gathered all his belongings, he was fully ready for running away for his life. But things had dimmed, and he had figured that a breath of moon sugar wouldn't hurt. His pipe thankfully had embers warm enough to smoke from. He normally preferred not to smoke in public, but after all the things he had been through earlier – he was just too exhausted to give a damn.

"[color=8493ca]Snow demons! Kamals! They are the terrifying demons![/color]"

Sadri took a huff before turning his head to find the source of the shouting. The topic had brought him some past memories, of his time as librarian in bumfuck nowhere, Hammerfell. He had spent about a decade doing that job. At least every day had an unique read - the damn library was old and its past patrons were quite the collectors. Sadri was probably a disappointment compared to them, but he had kept the books safe and sound be it from burglars or bookworms.

[i][color=8493ca]'These things are from Akavir? Figures...'[/color][/I] Sadri thought to himself as he got up, his skooma pipe, slung around his torso, clanging quietly with the movement. He started walking towards the heart of the commotion, which lead to the Gray Quarter. The signs of the battle were still around - wounded men, corpses, trashed material - but fortunately for its owner the shop was mostly undamaged. Or maybe it wasn't damaged at all and the building was simply of low quality. Sadri didn't mind. He moved his head somewhat uncomfortably to take another huff from his pipe and plucked Mora from his eye, rubbing its belly to make it puke out the blood it had drained, and stuffed the leech in its steel home.

Inside he could see more fellow Dunmer (one of them he knew well - Madura of the company, almost an inquisitor wannabe with his constant questioning) and then some others. One lady - somewhat familiar to Sadri's eyes - in particular had a question, whose answer Sadri knew. 

"[color=8493ca]They're from Akavir, dear.[/color]" Sadri entered the shop with the answer, eyeing the others, trying to figure out who actually owned the shop.

Accompanying farmers and militiamen into battle was the last thing Trius had in mind when charging into uncertain death. The docks was dotted with mutilated bodies and towering giants that he himself thought that these men beside him would falter at the sight - but they did not. He respected that, he respected that these men knew no fear. When the battle was over, he didn't think twice when he agreed to help with their wounded, it was the least he can do for such men of bravery. Though he wasn't a mer of medicine or restoration, he helped them by carrying the wounded where they can be treated.

[I]“Kamals! They are the snow demons!”[/I]

Those words sounded like honey to his ears, finally, someone knew what they were dealing with. Instead of being inquisitive, someone spat on the man, and Trius felt nothing but disappointment for the people around him. Perhaps its the ignorance of the people that made him feel that way, or it was the act itself. Nonetheless, Trius felt that he should apologize in behalf of the men.

However, the Mer was too quick before Trius could catch him in the docks. The next thing he knew, he was already standing right before the doorway of a shop. Curious, Trius went inside for a peek, and to his surprise, there were one too many Dunmers inside. Inside, several trinkets of sorts presented before his eyes, most of it was new to him, while the rest he already saw in his own travels in the past. A curious bunch stood by the door way, though none looked like the Dunmer he was chasing earlier. Turning his gaze over to Sadri, he asks the mer.

"[color=f9ad81]Have you seen someone enter here before you? someone spat on the man when he went to the docks, I just want to have a quick word with him.[/color]"

“Yes,” The shopkeeper gazed intently at Sadri, an expression of surprise on his wrinkled features. “Finally someone willing to listen.” He searched through a small ring of keys before finding the right one to open his shop. Once the door opened, the shop revealed dusty desks and several struggling candles. It's owner wiped off the main counter and went behind, back hunch returning as he rummaged through items. He stood up semi-straight after a minute of searching apparently disappointed with lack of findings. 

“Please, make yourselves comfortable.” The shopkeeper offered three unsteady chairs and a pot of cold tea. “I must of misplaced the tome in back, it'll be just a second.” And he went through the curtain leading to the backrooms.

At that moment, Trius came in with two Nord militiamen following him. The militiamen wore white armbands of the Braves. These two men looked rather calm and curious, their stances were relaxed and did not have indications of conflict. Nevertheless, they crowded the compact store and made the air tighter. For now, they huddled in a distant corner and kept to themselves.

Madura was first to speak, after Sadri addressed Trius's questions. “[color=82ca9d]They say you killed two of these things; the Kamals.[/color]” He said to Sadri. “[color=82ca9d]What was it like? Were they truly demonic? What weapon did they use?[/color]”

While the journalist spoke with his fellow Dunmer, Ariane took to sampling the tea. It was ice cold and smelled like sewage. She stopped at the first sip and placed the dingy cup back on the counter. Judging by the disgusted cringe on her face, Ariane had enough of this drink. 

“[color=7ea7d8]A fellow countrywoman.[/color]” She turned around, and greeted Roze. “[color=7ea7d8]Here I thought it's just Nords and dark elves. Where are you from? You don't look someone from Daggerfall or Wayrest, maybe Northpoint or Jehanna?[/color]”

Although thankful for the Dunmer's answer to her question, Roze wasn't particularly versed in geography. She knew that Akavir was some mysterious continent, but unsure of where it was... but it still made things all the more odd. Why would these things come to attack Skyrim? 

Nodding her thanks to Sadri, she followed the rest into the cramped store; allowing herself a small smile of amusement as the Breton woman gave the tea a disgusted look.

"[color=f6989d]I was born in Riften, actually. But my Mother, Belladyne; she was from Northpoint.[/color]" Roze answered - she too, was surprised to see another Breton here. This one was obviously a mage, as many of her kin were, thanks to their natural affinity with magic. Not something Roze had particularly ventured into, bar some Alteration spells. She preferred more practical and down-to-earth methods like her bow.

"[color=f6989d]That's partly why I came here... the last I heard, she was in Solstheim. I was hoping that if I knew where these... Kamal, came from, I'd know if they attacked the island first.[/color]" She added somewhat uncomfortably - the thought of it was not a pleasant one. It didn't help that the last letter she'd received from her Mother had been weeks ago - before she had joined the mercenary group outside of Markarth.

The chairs the shopkeeper had brought weren't exactly comfortable, but Sadri preferred sitting nonetheless. The man seemed somewhat anxious to keep up his promise, so immediately went behind the curtains after settling everyone down. Sadri took the opportunity to take another deep huff of moon smoke and breathed out audibly, filling the room with the sweet, sugary smell of second-hand smoke from his mouthful. After his huff of sugar, a man entered the shop - Sadri couldn't see his face and did not bother to look, but assumed he was Dunmer from the man's voice. "[color=8493ca]Nothing I would know of, ask the owner.[/color]" Sadri dismissed with a rather soft tone. He then took another huff. This stuff was [i]good[/i].

After his response, Madura Dalas, the walking questionnaire, began asking Sadri questions again. The mer had been doing this nearly every single day ever since Sadri had signed up. Sadri was annoyed by the man's constant prodding, but never had the heart in himself to shoot the guy down. "[color=8493ca]I didn't kill two of them, just one,[/color]" Sadri replied to Madura with a rather slow, sluggish voice. "[color=8493ca]I did help the Nord kill another though, if that counts.[/color]" Another hit, "[color=8493ca]The damn things ain't like anything on Tamriel, I can tell you that.[/color]" Yet another hit. Sadri was having trouble picking out Madura's face from amongst the smoke, "[color=8493ca]Nearly smashed my head to bits, one of them did.[/color]" Sadri muttered. 

"[color=8493ca]Had a mace the size of my torso. Or maybe that was just its arm. Can't remember.[/color]" Sadri actually didn't take a huff from his pipe this time, considering that keeping it up could intoxicate the others in the room. He did keep talking, though.

"[color=8493ca]You know what they say, history repeats itself. It ain't the first time Windhelm's been attacked by one of these things, if my memory serves me right. Anyway, damn things are hard. Armor's harder than steel, can't cut through it. They hit harder than steel, too. Like oversized Imga.[/color]"

Sadri looked at Madura's face questioningly from amongst the dispersing smoke, hoping that he would meet a satisfied expression.

Seeing everyone else relax, Trius removed his Gah-Julan helm and entered the shop. Two militiamen soon entered after him, though he did not recall being accompanied by anyone. Perhaps these men also came to apologize for the boorish acts by the docks, if it were so, at least there are some decency left in the city, even after the attack. Hearing Sadri's response, Trius turned to the other Dunmer male who is only a few steps away from him.

"[color=f9ad81]Excuse me, shopkeeper? Would you happen to see a Dunmer enter here coming from the docks? Some ill-mannered men spat on him, and I came to apologize in their behalf.[/color]" 

Soon after he spoke his words, and the keeper responded to him, Trius heard Roze's inquiry about Solsthiem. Having been there himself just a few days ago, he decided to inject himself into the conversation of the two Bretons.

"[color=f9ad81]E..excuse me, I don't mean to intrude into your conversation, but, hearing your story, I felt you deserved to know.. Solstheim was evacuated a week ago, under the orders of the Nerevarine." Trius says in a lowered tone. The tender voice of a concerned maiden allured Trius to do such an act. Who knows how often he fell to such temptations. "Whoever you're looking for is probably in Blacklight right now, everyone who wasn't infected were sent there.[/color]"

"Me, yes." The shopkeeper answered as he emerged with a handful of books and tome. "Unruly brutes they are. Ignorant fools deserve to be ignored; no need to apologize for them." He then laid out several of these texts and coughed when dust bounced back at him. "Another Dunmer, our kind just has the talent to attract trouble." He spoke without glancing up through his collections. "You should of went to another city."

Noting Trius' interruption, Ariane commented. "[color=7ea7d8]Signs on the docks warn that Solstheim is quarantined. A disease? Or that's the rumor.[/color]" She shifted her shawl and scratched her neck gently. "[color=7ea7d8]I doubt the natives left. The Skaals? Right? They could conjure up magical barriers to fend off threats.[/color]"

Beside them, Madura was busy scribbling down notes on his notebook. He struggled to see through puffs of smoke, heckling as he waved off second-hand fumes. "[color=82ca9d]Was the-[/color]" One of the puffs went to far up his nose and he choked. "[color=82ca9d]Excuse me.[/color]" His cough turned to dry-heaving and indeed, he excused himself out. 

"Careful with the pipes." The shopkeeper warned. "These crusty ol' books are so delicate you could ruin them with a waft." Clearing his throat, the shopkeeper announced with a louder voice. "Come, gather around. The books say Kamals last came into our fair city during the second era, when the Ebonheart Pact united the Nords, Dunmers, and Argonians. In fact, and if I read the ancient wording correctly, fighting the snow demons was the very reason behind the Pact's founding." The shopkeeper reached for a cup of his tea, but when cool fluid hit his tongue, he cringed just like Ariane. "Would any of you be so kind as to heat this up before we continue. Some sparks in the fireplace would do." He lifted the curtain and pointed to a pile of half-burnt wood in the backroom.

       After finishing up with the bodies, Leif departed from Sevine's side, and with inquiries placed to the fellow citizens of Windhelm, he found the location of the peculiar shopkeeper, that had babbled on about knowing what those creatures in the bay were. With a gentle push of the door, Leif's sky-blue eyes landed upon Roze, who stood next to another Breton woman, one he had not yet had the pleasure of meeting. He sidled up next to her, but withheld his words, as he was more eager to hear what the shopkeeper had to say. Leif caught the familiar scent of skooma, with it's sweet, smoky scent of the moon sugar, and found that a Dunmer man held a pipe. He noticed as well that there were two other Dunmer's in the room. He listened respectfully, he did not know the others that had gathered in the room, though he suspected that Sevine would know who they were, as they looked to be those who had fought in the battle just now. Perhaps they were apart of the same company? He had walked in at the right time, as he caught the words of the shopkeeper, he called the creatures in the bay, Kamal's, and that they were last seen in the second era at Windhelm. 

Even though he had not intended so, Sadri's smoking had caused Madura to leave the premises of the shop - Sadri was somewhat amused by this, though had to put his smoking session to an end after a warning by the shopkeeper. Sadri had respect for books, having taken care of them for such a long time, and thus complied with the Mer's request.

The man called for everyone to gather around him after warning Sadri. While Sadri did not actually move from his spot, he certainly turned his attention as the man started speaking of a tale from the past. Others were talking about relatives and how other provinces fared in the meanwhile.

The man's speech was interrupted after he cringed after a sip from his tea, [i]'Must be hard stuff.'[/I] Sadri thought after seeing the man's reaction, but realized he was wrong after the man requested for someone to heat up the fireplace. While Sadri did not have any fire spells, he did have a still active skooma pipe, and the embers, he figured, could be used to set some branches aflame. Silently Sadri got up from his chair and moved over to the fireplace, and began searching for small branches amongst the wood. After finding some sufficiently small, he set his skooma pipe on the ground and opened its bowl, from which a surge of heat emanated. Sadri puffed a breath amongst the pieces of charcoal to overheat them if only for a few seconds, and then stuck the branches from the fireplace into the bowl, waiting contently. Upon hearing the crispy sound of wood being set aflame, Sadri pulled the branches out and placed them carefully back in the fireplace so that they would not be suffocated by the bigger pieces of wood. 

Waiting until the fireplace was lit up properly, Sadri proceeded to move back to his chair with his pipe, content that he was able to do something.

"[color=f6989d]Evacuated?[/color]" Roze repeated, obviously surprised at this news. Ariane's added comment did nothing to stop her worries either. [i]"A quarantine? Gods... I hope she wasn't stupid enough to stay on the damned island."[/i] Roze thought to herself, brow furrowing in thought. Thinking back to her last letter, she had mentioned she was thinking of moving on from the Island - but that had been weeks ago, and there had still been no further word.

As for Blacklight, well, she doubted her Mother would remain in Morrowind for very long. She never spoke kindly about the place, for some reason.

However, Roze's attention was brought back to the room as the elderly Dunmer began speaking about the Kamal - and their first attack centuries ago.

"[color=f6989d]Why do you think they attacked now?[/color]" She wondered aloud - not particularly versed in history, she had no idea why they attacked the first time. However, it was usually something to do with expanding empires or whatnot... all these bloodly battles were about power.

"[color=f9ad81]Nonetheless, it was uncalled for.[/color]" Trius said as he slowly walked closer to the group by the fireplace. "[color=f9ad81]Can't say I disagree with you on that.. didn't really plan fighting Kamals when I came here for supplies..[/color]" He said right before leaning his Bonemold clad body against the wall beside the fireplace.

"[color=f9ad81]Skaals? you mean those stubborn Nords that lived in upper Solsthiem? I'm certain they didn't leave. I was in Blacklight when the ships arrived, I saw not a single human face disembarked those vessels.[/color]" Trius said as he crossed his arms together. "[color=f9ad81]I wouldn't really risk going there though if you're planning to check for yourself, the place is swarmed with Ordinators sanitizing the place.[/color]" He turned silent for a moment, glancing at the cloud of smoke that came from Sadri's pipe. "[color=f9ad81]Besides.. it's not like these Kamals would let anyone out  anytime soon.[/color]"

Trius simply stood there as he listened intently to the story of the shop keeper. To some extent, Trius was familiar in subjects concerning Akavir, and its residents. Hearing the old Mer read the book somehow relaxed him, and made him feel as if he was home.

"[color=7ea7d8]It's just a rumor.[/color]" Ariane guessed while shrugging. 

"Thank you." The shopkeeper beamed. "This tea, I tell you, tastes all different depending on heat." The old elf drawled. When Roze asked her question, he flipped through book pages for the answer. "Here," He rotated the page around for everyone to see. The two Nords were standing closely behind everyone else now, their interest peaked at what was said. "The grammar is archaic but it meant they were searching for a 'Ordained Spectacle'. Some want to believe it a powerful artifact, others stuck with bungled translation. Me? I think us Tamriel folk made it up to comfort ourselves."

"[color=7ea7d8]You know,[/color]" Ariane suggested, pointing to adjacent passages on the page. "[color=7ea7d8]The College of Winterhold excavated a magical relic supposed to be the Eye of Magnus. It was powerful and some even say it is an intelligent entity from the future. What if the Kamals sought this object?[/color]"

"Who cares." One of the Nords, who was quiet thus far, broke in. "It's not like they found it and left last time, or they wouldn't be here again." The Nord balled one first and pointed towards the book. "What matters is how we kill them."

The shopkeeper frowned and raised a disapproving eyebrow. He muttered some Dunmeri curses under his breath, [i]S'wit and N'wah[/i], if Trius and Sadri listened. "I was getting to it, if only you could stay patient." He scoffed. The book was pulled furthered back from the counter, as if he was shielding it from the Nord. "Several pages before tell us that mystical heroes were involved; Wulfharth the Underking and the late Almalexia. Beside them, armies of Skyrim, Morrowind and Black Marsh cornered the invaders in a river delta, where Vivec finished them off with Flood."

[i]"[color=f6989d]If she hasn't got onto those boats, I'll kill her.[/color]"[/i] Roze thought sourly as she listened to Trius - it would be typical of her curious mother to stay on an island that was being evacuated for some strange reason; disease or not.

Raising her eyes to the heavens in irritation at the passed comment from the Nord, Roze glanced at the two of them stood there. They had been part of the group who had showed up lastly - some infamous group known as the 'Braves'. Some bravery they had, showing up at the last minute, and then proclaiming all loot as their own.

Well - karma had certainly fought them back on that one, but it was still rather insulting to the many sellswords - and city guards, for that matter - that had lost their lives.

"[color=f6989d]A flood? I don't know - fire seemed to work pretty well on them. Normally if something is weak to fire, water wouldn't do much.[/color]" Roze replied to the shopkeeper, peering at the book. "[color=f6989d]Also, wasn't Vivec some kind of God?[/color]"

"[color=8493ca]These writings are often not to be taken literally. Sometimes they are, but not often.[/color]" Sadri's mind kept flashing back to his years in the library, reading deep into matters his mind was (still is) unable to comprehend wholly. Perhaps he owed his sanity to that, he was not entirely sure. "[color=8493ca]As for Vivec...[/color]" Sadri paused. Even with the moon sugar induced relaxation the matter made his mind go rigid. 

"[color=8493ca]He probably made himself a God.[/color]" Saying this, he reached the point in his mind where some things made some sense, and suddenly, his manner of speech became much more enthusiastic, since he had pieced this together before. 

"[color=8493ca]Vivec... there were - rather, are - a lot of myths about Vivec. He was man. He was God. He is man. He is God. All these could be true. You see,[/color]" Sadri immediately pulled out a book with a red cover from his satchel. "[color=8493ca]Vivec speaks of something called CHIM in his Lessons. And the book I have here...[/color]" Sadri started flipping the pages of the book quickly, and stopped after reaching somewhere near the end. "[color=8493ca]Here it says - 'CHIM. Those who know it can reshape the land. Witness the home of the Red King once jungled.' So Vivec found something that made him God.[/color]" 

Sadri shut the book and put it back in his satchel, and turned his face to Ariane, "[color=8493ca]Perhaps this Eye of Magnus can lead to CHIM, and that's why the Kamal seek it. I remember reading about the Kamal freezing,[/color]" He leaned back on his chair, "[color=8493ca]Perhaps they wish to end that by reshaping the land? Or perhaps they wish to become Gods?[/color]" He eyed the others somewhat anxiously, hoping to get some validation for his conspiracy theory.

"Or perhaps it's just an ordinary invasion."

"[color=f9ad81]Vivec doesn't deserve to be called a god, he's nothing but a betrayer and usurper of power he didn't deserve.[/color]" Trius uttered. To those who knew Trius, his voice reflected a well rooted hate for the revered saint, though through the ears of a stranger, his words sounded more of a baseless, hateful comment. 

A few moments of silence enveloped Trius after his remark, but the distasteful thoughts on Vivec still remained rampant in his mind. Hearing words about the Kamals intent for the invasion, Trius spoke. "[color=f9ad81]If those Kamals want to be gods themselves, I say we let them try.[/color]" 

"Yes, flood." The shopkeeper acknowledged. "They cannot swim, they drown. I saw a few of them down by the docks; heavy armor, float it does not."

"He's right." One Nord warrior confirmed. "I saw some lizard dragging one into the harbor, damn thing sunk faster than a sack of rocks."

"And Vivec, much myth surrounds him." The shopkeeper noted. He heard the whistling of boiled water from the fireplace and picked up his tong. Before going back to retrieve the pot of tea, he clicked the tong in front of the others. "Profane tools they say, much like this in my hand but divine blessed. It takes not only the source of power, but also a conduit. The Three knows what our snow demons want." And with that, he turned for the pot of tea.

"[color=7ea7d8]You're probably right.[/color]" Ariane said to Roze. She peeked around the corner and saw the shopkeeper returning with a small tray (the pot and several cups). "[color=7ea7d8]And you know the red-bearded Nord warrior? I saw him transporting crates of fire salt, maybe it would aid us in some ways.[/color]"

The tray was placed on the counter and the shopkeeper wasted no time in pouring himself a cup full of his tea. He blew on the warm liquid to cool it off, and after few seconds, he took short sips, feeling of delight as he slowly savored the flavors. "Fire alters everything, it brings change to the stagnate." Filling another cup, he offered to everyone else. "Try it, much better now that it's heated." Ariane accepted the cup and drew a mouthful. The taste was foreign but much easier on the tongue compared to before. "Like this tea, flame brittles the resilient. Attack the snow demons with fire and perhaps, just for the off-chance in which it does suffice, their hardened shell will crack." He battered his lips and began searching through his books once more. 

"[color=8493ca]I think those things can't handle fire salts. I was alongside Jorwen during the fighting. One of the Kamals got the drop on him but got a handful of fire salt to the face.[/color]" Sadri rubbed his hand with his thumb to emphasize on just how much a handful meant. "[color=8493ca]Next thing you know, it's flailing around and diving into the waters.[/color]" He didn't want to mention the fact he was also carrying crates and look like he was trying to steal some of the Nord's glory. 

"[color=8493ca]Either way, it's a much more effective alternative than trying to get through their armor. Damn things must be enchanted or something.[/color]" Sadri's mind went back to the fight earlier. He had struck one in the head with all his might, he had sprung up his entire body for the strike, and yet all he had managed to deal was a dent. A fatal dent, maybe, but it was nonetheless little more than a dent. He had cloven through helms of Elven make with such a swing in the past, and hell, Edith was witness to him nearly cutting a bear in half with a single strike, and yet against the Kamal it was just a cave-in. He didn't want to try it again and put further strain on his blade. 

"[color=8493ca]Not to brag, but my hand is heavy, like my blade. Yet against those things neither hand nor blade didn't amount to much.[/color]"

"[color=8493ca]I mean, they're [i]snow[/i] demons. It's obvious that fire will give them a bad hair day.[/color]"

Throughout the discussion, one thing was obvious - the Kamal were no foe to be trifled with lightly. They had wiped out so many of their forces, and had escaped on their ships upon being driven back - and only just, by the looks of things.

"[color=f6989d]So... at the very least, we know they have two weaknesses; fire, and deep water.[/color]" Roze said aloud, finally relaxing her grip on her bow enough to wrench it from her frozen hand, and then sling it over her back. Her shoulder ached, but it was an almost pleasant feeling - it hadn't been used like this since her injury, so it had been good to get some exercise into it.

"[color=f6989d]Maybe we should try and find out what kind of spell Vivec used. I mean, creating a flood from a river can't be a very complex spell - or, at least not complex enough to allow mortals like ourselves use it.[/color]" She suggested after a moment of thought, flexing her numbed fingers absent-mindedly. She knew there was no way in hell they could bring the fight to the Kamal - although the navies and armies of Skyrim had improved since the end of the war, it was nothing compared to some of the other continents; and judging by the look of the Kamal's ships and armours, she shuddered to think of what other indestructible war machines they had on their home shores. 

Speaking of their home shores... her mind drifted back to a book she had read on Akavir, as a child. It hadn't interested her all that much, but one thing definitely stood out in her mind, simply because of the funniness her childish mind had found in it.

"[color=f6989d]Say, aren't their other races on Akavir that keep fighting this bunch? Monkey-people or something. I can't remember the names - Tan Ko? Something like that.[/color]" Shrugging, Roze looked to the others, hoping they would know what she was talking about. Upon reading about them, she'd often pretended as a child that she was one - simply because it gave her the excuse to run around whooping, climbing over things and generally being a nuisance to the Guild and her parents.

	Leif had graciously accepted the tea as the teapot made its way around the circle of curious folk that had assembled in the dusty shop to hear of his bizarre tales, and found the exotic taste to be pleasing to his taste buds when he took a sip after blowing on it gently, so as not to scald his tongue. He noticed Roze fidgeting with her bow, and with one hand, reached out, and grasped her shoulder, rubbing it carefully, so as not to spook her. Sevine suffered from sore muscles as well when she used her bow frequently, and there was not a doubt in his mind, that Roze suffered the same, though he was unaware that she had sustained an injury from the battle at the Reach.

"[color=a2d39c]Tan Ko, eh? I haven't heard of these monkey-people before, they maybe too far for us to reach, but I will agree with you.[/color]" He nodded towards the other Dunmer, smoking skooma from a pipe, and added, "[color=a2d39c]They're weighed down with all that armor, and as you mentioned, I saw that they have a weakness towards fire. If we can amass all of our mages together that can use fire, and collect as much oil as we can, we can light their asses ablaze.[/color]" The smoke alone, as it filled the room it great plumes of heady wafts, filtered into Leif's nose. A headache he had before, curiously disappeared.

"[color=f9ad81]It's Tang Mo.. In Akaviri it's The Thousand Monkey Isles.[/color]" Trius said while taking a cup of tea from the tray.  "[color=f9ad81]I heard they're fierce warriors, supposedly the Nerevarine himself was impressed by the way they fight[/color]." Trius continued. 

"[color=f9ad81]I fear the monkey people wouldn't be of any help to us, even if we reach them.. If the Kamals are launching an invasion here, it's safe to assume that the snow demons have dealt with  the Tang Mo back in Akavir.[/color]"

"The Monkeys, learned little I have of the creatures." The shopkeeper conceded. He was please to see his tea being drank, warm beverages tend to warm the manners of cold people. Even one of the Nord militiamen decided to take a pull, and judging by the lack of spitting and insults afterwards, it was assumed he found it tolerable at the least. "You saw their armor, yes?" The shopkeeper eyed Leif, studying the newcomer for a moment while he thought about the topic. "From the few sources I could gather, second era the surviving illustrations matched. Some details might changed, but the dimensions, the motifs and the outlines; all very much Kamalian." Finishing the last of his cup, the Dunmer continued. "Scholars from the past recorded three types of armor; light, medium and heavy, for mages, skirmisher's and line troops, respectively. Finally, one source say high ranking Kamals wear enchanted pieces, but it was unconfirmed elsewhere and might be a tall tale." Browsing through a scrolls closer to him, the shopkeeper hypothesized. "The skirmishers sound like what you have encountered."

To her fellow Breton's suggestions, Ariane couldn't help but protest. "[color=7ea7d8]The spell should not be hard.[/color]" She said. "[color=7ea7d8]But the sheer scale of the endeavor. We saw hundreds of them, it would take a copious supply of magicka to submerge the grounds.[/color]" To Roze specifically, she asked. "[color=7ea7d8]I take it you are not a woman of spells, but arrows?[/color]" Her tone was slightly edged and combined with her straighter gestures, it might of came off snappy.

"Fire, flames, heat." The shopkeeper emphasized on the last. He ignored Ariane, and blabbered on. "This is all that is left of a Dunmer's journal." He tapped on brown-stained leaf of paper. "This individual was a battlemage in Almalexia's army. His or her writing was not too legible to me, the expressions too, just foreign in the fourth era. Though one things was clear, heat-related words appeared six times, and four instances accompanied by weaken."

"I'd venture a guess that heating up the shells of snow demon would lessen its protective benefits." The shopkeeper reckoned. "Now, only if I can find the section about their ships..." It shouldn't came as a surprise when the old man's voice trailed off as he perused through his collection.

	Leif nodded in response to the Dunmer shopkeeper's words, about witnessing their armor, yet he waited patiently for him to finish, and when he heard of the ships, a sudden idea blossomed within the confines of his mind, "[color=a2d39c]Now, in all my years of sailing on the Sea of Ghosts, I have never witnessed such ships as theirs. However, when I watched them in the bay, I couldn't help but to think, that there had to be some way to sink them. I saw the port holes where they launched those ice spikes. If we could create, or devise a way to make some type of exploding bomb, perhaps even a rune, or a charge, and somehow get it into those port holes, we may be able to put a hole in their ships, and sink those bastards. Now that may be far-fetched, as we would need swimmers possibly to perform the task for us, but I would volunteer for that at least.[/color]" Leif suggested with enthusiasm, "[color=a2d39c]It could be a stealth attack even, if we went under the cover of darkness, though the water would be frigid indeed, we would need either potions or elixirs to repel the cold, at least long enough to get us over there.[/color]"

	Overhearing the other Breton that stood next to Roze, comment on her being a woman of arrows, and not spells, Leif couldn't help but to lean towards her, and remark quietly, loud enough for the three to hear, "[color=a2d39c]Aye that she is. If I were you lass, I'd keep out of her way. She's got an aim that is something awfully fierce, might put your eye out if you're not watching.[/color]" With that, Leif gave the Breton woman a playful wink.

Normally, if a man were to place his hand on her without her permission, Roze would have grasped their hand tightly, and pulled their thumb so far back it popped from the socket. However, Leif's touch was not a wandering one, but a comforting one.

[i]Especially[/i] to her aching shoulder.

Before she could even give a grateful smile to Leif - because, damn, he was working out knots she didn't even realise were there - her fellow Breton immediately countered her comment on the spells... and adding a somewhat harsh comment about her arrows.

[i]"Yeah, I don't see you complaining about my damn arrows when your magic runs out of juice, and suckers like me have to save your sorry ass."[/i] She thought to herself dryly - but countered Ariane's comment with a somewhat more civil response.

"[color=f6989d]I'm a woman of many things. I like to stay diverse - it keeps my enemies guessing.[/color]" She followed Leif's comment coolly, then shrugged almost nonchalantly. "[color=f6989d]They never know how I'll kill them that way.[/color]" She then darted a quick grin at Leif, amused - and somewhat grateful - at his own response to Ariane. He caught her grin, and could only wink in response to the curly haired maiden, whose shoulder he tenderly massaged. Leif was surprised that Roze hadn't chased away his hand, which inevitably led him to believe, that she was indeed sore from battle, or at least from firing a multitude of arrows like she did.

"[color=f6989d]If this plan of yours works out, I'd volunteer. Those Kamal would never see me coming.[/color]" Although the idea Leif had just pitched was an almost suicidal one - it could be potentially useful. Especially if the ships were going to carry word of Skyrim's defences back to their homeland - or, if they chose to attack another dock. It could potentially save lives.

"[color=7ea7d8]If you say so.[/color]" Ariane curved her lip slightly to Leif, showing a rare glance of her smile. Going back to Roze, her next lines had a hint apology in it. "[color=7ea7d8]I meant not to disparage, but very well, it is comforting to know your many skills.[/color]"

"Ah-ha! Found it!" The shopkeeper exclaimed jutting everyone from their own thoughts or conversations. "Something about the crystal ports, misheard have I not? If not, then you are on to the right track." He went for his cup but only to be met with emptiness. "By the three, the pot goes faster when you're sharing. You there!" He ordered a Nord militiaman. "Fill it up and I'll let you go free." The Nord grunted, fuming on his way for water.

"Evidence points the White River being narrower in the second era, perhaps Ysmir cracked it wider with his shouts during his campaigns." The shopkeeper explained, leaning down closer to examine the pages. "How many ships? Ten, twelve? No more than eight could squeeze in the last time around. To add to our problem, waters have since been deeper, might be accumulating memories drawing up the surface. Anyways, I'm rambling again." He stopped himself when the Nord returned with the pot of water. "Good boy, uh, wait..." He went to pat the man on his, but withdrew on the last second when he realized his target was not a child or dog.

"In any case, the old Nord's managed to sunk a few vessels." The shopkeeper said. Filling up his cup, he didn't bother to give everyone else their helping. He drank half of it and wiped his chin with his sleeves. "Smaller river, crowded fleet, easier targets, all you need is, is, is what? Know I do not, something got to give." He threw up his hand sin frustration. "Of course the books are missing the right parts. Maybe we should try your ideas, swim there, stuff magical hocus pocus, hmm." 

"And what we saw might be just the tip of an iceberg." He added. "These are the lighter class, the Ebonheart Pact sighted larger, ocean-going vessels that could not negotiate inlets."

"[color=7ea7d8]Overload the crystals with daedron currents.[/color]" Ariane stated matter-of-factly, as if she was reciting from a textbook. "[color=7ea7d8]Elemental projectiles require temporal rift in creatia flow, the larger they are, the greater the disturbance.[/color]" Her eyes lit up with the topic and Ariane was getting somewhat excited. "[color=7ea7d8]The fifteenth law of Aurbic exchange says exceeding the third power of soul signature will implode reality around the site of launch.[/color]" Her words faded as dumbstruck glances fell on her.

"[color=7ea7d8]What I'm saying is, hit the crystals with spells or enchanted projectiles when they shoot, and they might just blow up.[/color]" She summarized.

"Or you could attack the undersides and the top deck, armored these areas are not." The shopkeeper suggested. "You see, Skyrim was divided in two, like it was during the civil war, siege weapons were abundant. Windhelm was capital of West Skyrim, it must of retaliated with trebuchets." Turning to the next page, the old man mused. "Oh, dinghy's, fast and furious. It was small enough to get under the plating, all they needed was sails and sharp logs, then high wind would drive it through keel."

"Might as well get close and smash it with a hammer." A militiamen perked up. 

"[color=7ea7d8]Hold on,[/color]" Ariane questioned, she looked to Sadri and Roze. "[color=7ea7d8]Your quartermaster, Adidas? She said you had arcane charges in the Reach, we could plant some on the hulls. Does she have any left?[/color]" None answered her question. As if everyone in the room suddenly zoned out, the lack of voice was uncomfortable for the next few minutes. Even the shopkeeper himself became impatient.

"You can figure your problem out on your own." The shopkeeper grumbled. His eyes drooped and his attention weakened with every passing second. The old man's age was absolutely apparent. "Enough time I've taken yours, and mine you have taken." He waved everyone away. "So unless you are looking to buy Wance Milner's latest kitchen set, to bed this old bloke shall go." He finished. Gradually, the guests in the antique shop filled out. That is, until only Ariane remained.

"[color=7ea7d8]What is that?[/color]" Ariane pointed to a necklace, while she close to it in order for her comrades to pass. The object in question was hexagonal locket, the center of which etched a dimly glowing skull. It seemed nodescript before but now it stood out like wolf in sheeps' clothing. For some reason, it called to Ariane, a quiet buzz of chaotic energy propagating across the stale air of the room.

"That? Bad luck, I tell you." The shopkeeper said. "Some vagabond approached me months ago and dumped it on my counter." He yawned. "I gave fifty septims, in hindsight, it ain't worth more than twenty."

"[color=7ea7d8]I'll take it, fifty it is then.[/color]" Ariane demurred, slipping that that on that counter. The shopkeeper's tired eyes widened for a second. "[color=7ea7d8]Actually, I'll buy your books on the Kamals too.[/color]" She added.

"Not for sale, daughter." The old man countered. "Except for this one. Copied down I have, plus, the dog pissed on it twice."

Ariane cringed, the old man had no manner to speak of. Still, it might come in handy, despite how soiled the book appeared. "[color=7ea7d8]I didn't see your dog.[/color]" She observed after forking over additional coins.

"Had to put the old girl out of her misery." The shopkeeper nudged towards a butcher knife. "Pretty sight it was not, but she made quite the, as you Bretons say, entrée."