[h3][i]Somewhere in the Sea of Ghosts[/i][/h3]
[sub]Featuring the sublime Swede [@Hellis] and the grandiose gamemaster [@gcold][/sub]


It had been a day since their daring escape. 

Niernen stared out over the dark, impenetrable sea and the thick, opaque mist with unseeing eyes, her gaze fixed on the middle distance. She was a Dunmer, thirty-one years old, with a (by Elvish standards, at least) beautiful, lithe face, marred only by an old scar that ran down the left side of her brow and cheek. She had large eyes, full of life and emotion, that were coloured a peculiar shade of rich, ruddy copper instead of the crimson that was typical of her race. Long black hair, tucked behind her ears, spilled down over her shoulders and shone with a luscious luster -- oh, wait, no. It didn't. Not anymore. It was stiff and dull and full of tangles, her once-beautiful face was ash-pale and sunken and her eyes were as dead as a shark's.

The Kamal had treated her horribly. Niernen had been there with the Company when Windhelm was besieged and fought against the Akaviri snow-demons, side by side with the likes of Do'Karth, but she had fallen into the sewers after a collapse and fled outside the city limits. There, the Kamal had hunted her down in the darkness of the night and killed her beloved Nix-hound, Garm. Niernen had used her precious scroll of Fire Storm, a gift from one of her old Redoran war-wizard mentors, to save her own life and kill the Kamal that pursued her. She shuddered at the memory. The days that followed were a blur of cold snow and hunger as she made her way towards Morrowind, wrapped in a pale gray cloak stolen from the corpse of a dead traveler, desperate to see her family and make sure they were safe in Blacklight, only to be ambushed by the thrice-damned Armigers and -- much to her furious indignation and bone-chilling horror -- sold to the Kamal as a slave. 'Fighting for a foreign power,' that's what her crime had supposedly been. It was insanity. 

Then came the frigate. Niernen was unceremoniously shoved into the hold and forced to do manual labor. Manual labor, of all things! Niernen couldn't swing a pickaxe to save her life, not after the Shadowscale poison that had nearly claimed her life in Blackmarsh years ago and left her with all the strength of an old man with rockjoint. But, since the only alternative was death, she complied and made up with telekinetic magic for what she lacked. The Kamal worked them to the bone (of which Niernen broke several when a vicious Kamal taskmaster beat her half to death for working too slow), she and four other Dunmeri slave-captives, and Niernen knew for sure that, after one week, one more day on that damned ship would have been the death of her. The Kamal barely fed them and only allowed a handful of hours of sleep, and when one of the other Dunmer slaves collapsed he was killed and his soul fed to the frigate's magical engines. Haunted by the memory of the elf's dying screams, Niernen shuddered again and pulled her gray cloak tighter around her body. She resisted the urge to cry.

That's when the storm had happened and the pirates attacked. It was good fortune of the most absurd kind, since the pirates didn't have a chance in hell against the Kamal, but not an opportunity she was about to waste. She'd escaped amidst the chaos with one other Dunmer, snatching up their possessions as they ducked and weaved through the frantic boarding action, jumped into a lifeboat and, well... here they were, drifting around and waiting for something to happen. That brought her to her fellow escapee, sitting opposite her in the small, wooden lifeboat, looking as grim and sullen as she felt -- Valen. Niernen owed him her life. She never would have made it off the frigate and into the lifeboat if it wasn't for Valen's strong shoulder to lean on. He'd complained the whole time, of course, as Valen was a right sour bastard, but apparently not heartless enough to leave her behind. She would be forever grateful for that, though it remained to be seen how long 'forever' would actually be for the two of them.

Many things ran through the head of Valen these difficult past weeks. But he had not lived a easy life, and he had been so deeply rooted in his own despair and self pity that to him slavery seemed like just another kick by the fates. The Armigers had found him in a tavern. What they did there, he still hadn't figured out. But they had struck up conversation with him, curius as to what he did so far from home. He had know to bite his tongue, to keep from telling them what his profession was. To make it sound like he had legitimate buisness to tend to.

But one of them had seen the little book he kept. And the locket. They had placed him immedietly after that. He had not gone down easily nor he had not been the good slave however. When he had first been captured, he had been drunk and full with such piss and vineager that he had taken a man's ear with his teeth. Some of the slavers had referred to him as a wild dog, not believing that he was the once noble warrior that it was claimed. 

But even when left to die all those years back, he had never once been treated nearly as bad as he had been as a slave. He was a physical specimen, wirey but built, with scars and hard eyes. The kind that small men loved to push into the dirt so they could feel big. The kind of slave they knew could take a beating. His captors nor his later wardens had forgotten his wild nature however. Even as he grew more docile from the lack of alcohol, they would try and rile him to get another chance at smacking him down again. He also proved as a warning example to any slave thinking they were above their new lot in life. But within that mind of his, vengence had stewed. Another chip on his shoulder, another stone to his ever growing basket of boulders. This had changed when the Kamal had taken over his care. They were no small men angry at their loss of dignity as such a violent a prize. They relished breaking him like you relished breaking a bull. And they were massive beings possessing the brute force to keep him in check.

Their escape had come as their slavers frigate was onset by another ship. In the fighting that broke out, Valens instincts had kicked in. A broken oar was a fine spear in the hand of angry, desperate man with nothing to lose. And somehow, he had made it out to the life boat. He attributed this partly to Niernen's magic, as even a warrior of experience such as him was little more then a broken shell of a man at the time of their escape. And he had not the heart to abandon her once her legs gave out. He had dragged them the last part, cut the ropes as fire and arrows rained across the frigates deck.

 For her part, she had made sure they had their possessions again. He had used the bow to shoot down a bird that they had eaten. The raw meat of a bird could have given them more complications then sustenance, but from the look of Niernen, it was worth the gamble.

Now however, he stared out onto the sea, watching the black water swell and crush in waves of foam white. That struck him as odd. There was a lot of white foam ahead. He eyed the breakpoints of the water when it hit him.

"Land.." He muttered. "Or atleast rocks. That means land." He looked over to his travelling "companion". The woman was of his race and had suffered as much or more then him. He gritted his teeth. "I will try and keep us from smashing on the rocks." 

He was right. Niernen's heart skipped a beat as she followed his gaze and saw the vague outline of rocks materalizing in the dense mist. "Azura be praised," she said, her voice hoarse, and managed a weak smile -- the first in weeks. "I'd help you, but, well," she added and winced as she moved her left arm, "I think you're on your own." Niernen's jaw worked and she cursed under her breath. She knew that the old Niernen, the headstrong elven lass as fiery as her magic, would have been angry at the pain and the broken bones... but all she felt now was exhaustion. "Let me know if there's anything magical you need done." 

The notion that he was on his own led to a bitter laugh. "What else is new in this wretched existence." He struggled with the oars as dark water pushed them this way and that way. But a desperate strenght born from desperation, hope and purest fury put them somewhat on the right path. After a while, they saw the shore line. "Hold on." He half spoke, half growled as the boat was picked up by the currents that ran perpendicular to the shore, about 30 meters out. He struggled through it, feeling as if his arms were going to fall off. But they made it.

Once more Niernen felt a strong surge of appreciation for Valen and she shot him a grateful look as their little vessel bobbed against the rocky shore with pleasantly surprising gentleness. Now she was forced with the prospect of getting out of the lifeboat. Over the past day, Niernen had used a little Restoration magic to alleviate the worst of her leg's injuries but there was a fracture in her shin that she was afraid to deal with until the bone had been set properly. For the time being, she was just going to have to grin and bear it. Niernen slowly got to her feet and gingerly lifted one leg over the edge of the boat, wobbling unsteadily on one foot, and said through clenched teeth: "This is embarrassing, but... help?" 

"On it. Hold on." He said as he got out with a certein lack of grace only the shipbound and malnourished could achieve. He grabbed her leg under the knee and and let her lean against him as he expended what strength he had left to lift her enough to get over the edge of the boat. Then, as they hobbled ashore once more, he returned to quickly retrieve their things left in the boat. "Alright." he said finally, looking down at her leg. "We are gonna have to set that, don't we?" 

The mere idea turned Niernen's face white as a sheet and she bit her lip. It was true that it was very painful for her to stand and it seemed like the rocky islands they made landfall on were so uneven that traversing them on foot would be all but impossible for Niernen. "Y-yes, alright," she stammered and sat down on the pebble-strewn shore, trying to control her breathing. Looking at her leg, it suddenly occurred to her that she didn't even know how to mend broken bones with Restoration magic and cursed again, a hint of desperation to her voice. "Make a splint for me, please," Niernen said to Valen and tore a strip of cloth from the edge of her cloak with trembling fingers. "And then... do it. Quickly, before I lose my nerve." Niernen turned her eyes skyward and started mouthing a prayer. 

Valen nodded as he looked around him. "Shame I don't have an axe." He said, more to himself then to her while picked up some driftwood that was far away from the shoreline to be somewhat dryer. He then took the task to chop and bend two somewhat similar pieces of wood of the boat. Cutting the lower part of his left panntleg, he turned it into long enough ribbons to tie the splints in place once the bone was set. Then he walked over to Niernen. "Steel yourself" He said but instead of waiting for her to do just that, he grabbed her leg and set the bone in one go. As much to get it over with as to catch her unaware and not have her brace poorly. He was no surgeon or healer, but he had set a bone once or twice. You didn't make it without some basic knowledge of injuries when you spent years at a gods forsaken outpost trying to survive.

Niernen bit down on the strip of gray cloth she'd put in her mouth just in time for Valen to snap the fractured bone in place in a single, practiced movement. She screamed a muffled scream into the fabric and clenched her fists. The pain was fiercely blinding and stars danced in front of her eyes. It seemed to radiate out from her leg and into the rest of her body in sharp spikes of agony and it took all of her restraint not to savagely pull away from Valen. Gathering her thoughts, Niernen focused through the pain and moved her hands up and down her shin, palms glowing with Restoration magic -- she could not mend the bone but she could soothe the pain in her muscles and tendons. She breathed a sigh of relief as the pain dropped to manageable levels and she wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Thanks," Niernen whispered. Leaning on Valen once more for support, she got to her feet, gently put some of her weight on her leg and took a few unsupported steps away from Valen. She turned to look at him and gave him a thumbs up and a wan smile -- it still hurt but at least she could walk. 

Now that the grisly task of (somewhat) fixing her leg was taken care of, Niernen looked around at their surroundings. They were on a small rocky island, one of several in an island chain, it would seem. The thick banks of mist were slowly disappating as the weather improved and she could see further now than when they had first made landfall.

"Well, it will have to do" he mumbled, more to himself then to his travelling companion. He wasn't going to wait around to see what wildlife would be interested in to wary travellers. They needed to find either shelter, or signs of civilization. "What do suggest we do now? You're the hobbled one, so you tell me if we should try and move."    

"Yes, rub it in, why don't you," Niernen said absent-mindedly as she looked around, chewing the inside of her cheek. The little island they were on offered absolutely no shelter from the elements -- calm as they were, right now -- and was utterly devoid of life. "I think we should move," she said and looked at Valen with a shrug. "Nothing for us here, and..." 

She trailed off as her gaze fixed on something in the distance behind Valen's shoulder. Her coppery eyes widened and her mouth fell open. "Valen," she stammered, and pointed behind him with the index finger of her unharmed right arm. "There are other people there. People!" Niernen moved past Valen, hobbling as fast as she could, and stared at the three sauntering figures in the distance. They were too far away to make out who they were and Niernen directed a fierce mental prayer in Azura's direction they weren't Armigers, but if they were friendly... then they were saved. "Come on!" Niernen yelled at Valen and made for the silhouettes in the distance. 

The small islands in the island chain were all close enough together that Niernen could step from one to the other without getting wet, even without Valen's support. The splint was doing its job well. 

Valen's head jerked violently over to look where she was pointing. It was indeed poeple, she might have spotted the end of their current troubles. He was however, the eternal cynic and a proffesional skeptic. So he grabbed the spear and had his shield out as he followed her towards whoever they were.

The short and malnourished she-elf took a second to look back at Valen and saw how he had armed himself. Niernen realized it would be a good idea to approach the distant strangers in a state of preparedness and briefly paused to conjure a Flame Atronach from the depths of Oblivion. It took a lot out of her to expend so much magicka after so long without proper rest and food, but Niernen figured it was better to be safe than sorry. The floating woman-shaped entity coalesced in a rush of flame and heat and turned it's featureless face towards Niernen. The last time she'd summoned the creature had been aboard the Kamal frigate with explicit orders to hurl itself at the nearest enemy and detonate. The Dunmer could almost feel the Atronach's judgement in its... well, gaze, for lack of a better word. "Sorry about that," Niernen said quietly.

She turned back to the three figures ahead, now merely two islands over, and resumed her hobbling stride. Niernen figured that the three must have seen her and Valen by now and took the fact that she hadn't been shot at with arrows or something of that ilk as a good sign.

And that's when she recognized one of them. "No way," Niernen breathed, astonished, and came to a sudden halt. "[i]Ashav?[/i]" she asked herself aloud and turned to look at Valen. "I know them! Or at least one of them, it's the commander of the mercenary company I was with in Windhelm," she said quickly and excitedly. She waved at Ashav and his company and yelled out a hoarse cry in greeting. She wondered if Ashav would recognize her. He had hired her in person back then but she'd lost a lot of weight in the last three weeks and obtained the long gray cloak that now shrouded her form. Still, her distinctive copper eyes were the same and her facial scar hadn't moved. 

Valen eyed the strangers with a wearyness, he opted to stay back and let her do the talking. He was still impressed by her summon, it had saved them back at the ship. And for her to create another in her state was considerable feat. "Let's hope they care about comraderie and won't turn to banditry."

Niernen frowned at the suggestion. The thought hadn't crossed her mind at all until Valen mentioned it. "I should hope not," she said as they walked. "He seemed like the honorable sort, but I have to admit I don't know him very well." 

It was not long until the shipwrecked duo and the mercenary trio linked up, coming face to face in the middle of one of the tiny islands. Niernen was the first to speak, a hopeful smile beaming on her gaunt face. Up close she also recognized Madura, the journalist that had interviewed her and Do'Karth in Windhelm. The third fellow, a Nord, was a stranger to her. 

"Ashav, I can't believe it's really you! What in Oblivion are you doing here? We just arrived here after escaping from a Kamal ship, I was captured by the damn Armigers after Windhelm, they're working with the Kamal now, can you believe that? They sold me to them and we were slaves on one of their ships together and then pirates attacked and--" Niernen's hasty rant suddenly stopped short and she bit back a strangled cry as the weight of all her suffering of the last few weeks threatened to break her. She took a deep breath and blinked away the tears. "Anyway, this is Valen, he helped me escape. He's good people," she added and managed another smile, her eyes bright with emotion. "It's so good to see you, and you too, Madura. I can't believe our luck!" 

The trio was hesistant to approach, and when they did do so, they approached with weapons drawn. Well, Ashav had his new glass sword and Hargjorn had his falchion, but Madura, who was an non-combatant for all intents and purposes, looked he could easily cut himself with Hargjorn's boarding axe. They kept a safe distance away, considering the fact there was a man with a spear and a flaming daedric entity. When the Dunmer woman finally spoke up, none of the three were ready to hear what she was about to say. They expected her to ask them to surrender in the name of Morrowind, instead, she demonstrated that the Nerevarine was not beyond subjugating his own kind. She and the man seemed beaten and starved, but their sorry state did not excuse them from being a threat. If anything, experienced fighters like Ashav and Hargjorn knew the desparate opponent is most dangerous one.

"Who are you anyways?" Ashav questioned the woman. She appeared familiar, and claimed to be from Windhelm, but Ashav could not quite recall her exactly. "Put away the atronach first and then we can talk." The Redguard reaffirmed his combat stance.

"Ashav, she's Niernen, the Redoran battlemage!" Madura was quick to let his guard down. "She incinerated two Kamals with Do'Karth's help. I interviewed her, she's on our side." The journalist went forward to greet, but Hargjorn dragged him back with his free hand.

Though Ashav seemed somewhat convinced, Hargjorn was anything but. He pointed his sword at Valen and stood his ground. "You escaped a Kamal ship, how is that even possible?" He raised an eyebrow. "Ashav told me they are of impregnable metal." Shaking his head, his weapon did not lower. "Nevermind that, put away your summon and spear first." 

Valen looked at the man pointing a sword at him. "And what insurance do I have, with a sword pointed at me? Impossible to escape you say. It was certeinly no easy feat, but we were aided by the distraction of slaughter. Those infernal creatures were too busy slaughtering pirates to care much about the lives of some slaves. And Niernen's magic was our savior, as I had but a broken oar to fight with. But we escaped, and we stand before you now." He said, standing ramrod straight as just being in the face of civilized people and on shore was such a relief he had hardly the words.

"You can chose to not believe us. You can chose to draw your blade against us. But before you stand a mage witha broken leg who claim you comrades. And me, who claim no such thing, but will die by my spear rather then be sent to die a withering death. If I die shoulder to shoulder or facing you, is up to you to decide." Valen spoke even as he was swaying a little from the exhaustion. It was all catching up to him now.

Hargjorn stared intently at Valen while he spoke, and a few seconds of silence later, he let out a laugh. "Ha, I like you, you got some spine." Hargjorn nodded and lowered his sword, though keeping it in hand still. "And you do know this woman, Ashav?" He glanced at the Redguard, who nodded in return. "Well, then I suppose it's a sailor's honor to take in the stranded. We can ferry you to Dawnstar and provide bread and water along the way, but know this, you will not walk about with that spear in hand; you do not have all my trust yet." 

"This way." Hargjorn pointed to the direction he came from. "See that spire-like structure through the fog? Our boats are tied just behind it." He motioned for the Dunmers to go first so that he and Ashav could be certain there was no backstabbing. "And Neren," misspeaking her name, "I don't know about Kamal ships, but normal ones like mine do catch on fire. Please banish that damn thing to Oblivion."

Once everyone started walking again, Madura wasted no time interrogating the newcomers. "Niernen, how was it you escaped the Kamals without the rest? I remember sprinting my lungs out, and let me tell you, it was the most exercise I've-" The journalist promptly stopped as Ashav turned to face him. "Sorry, it's just-"

"No, Madura's right." Ashav said. "Sorry we couldn't help everyone back then. We'll get you both patched up, but no one can be too cautious in these times." Hargjorn grumbled at the word "we" but Ashav continued. "I have to know though, are there any other survivors beside you two?"

Niernen hastened to obey Hargjorn's command and banished her Atronach with a quick snap of her fingers. The entity dissolved into a cloud of smoke that drifted away over the foamy sea. "Thank you," she said, her voice full of gratitude. She placed her hand on Valen's shoulder and whispered: "Please do as he says."

After that she turned to Ashav and answered his question. "Not as far as I know, I'm afraid. It was chaos when the pirates attacked and only me and Valen made it to the lifeboat in time. There was fire everywhere and it [i]rained[/i] arrows. As for Windhelm..." Niernen looked at Madura, her pain clearly etched on her face, and averted her gaze. She said no more.

"I can accept that." Valen as as he put his spear on his back with his shield again. While they kept moving, he didn't say much, as he was still trying to get a feel for their new travelling companions. Hargjorn struck him as the kind you would see first out to go brawling and last to leave. Ashav seemed to be the leader of the bunch, if not in rank then in natural charisma.

Listening to the their discussion, he chose to put in a word or two. "We were the only one to make it to a boat from what I could see. Most slaves were to broken in mind or body. I do not think there are many survivors left." He gritted his teeth as he spoke, the memory of whips, massive hands and bone clubs fresh in the back of his head. 

"You have talents, Niernen. They can't possibly hold you down for long." Ashav commented, remembering how the seemingly frail battlemage took down more Kamals than a detatchment of guards. "And Valen, I suppose only a rugged fellow like you could keep up with her." 

Besides encouragements, Ashav stayed quiet to not bother the dark elves. They hiked up a rocky ridge as the morning fog dissipated into shimmering sun. The vantage point near the dwarven spire divided shallow waters around the island in two lagoons. One to the south-west was closer, where the Dawnstar-originated ships moored. There was another lagoon further north-east, a natural bay formerly covered by fog now revealed a docked cutter. The cutter was bonemold, and on its side hang a Ashlander type banner. 

"That's not your lifeboat, eh?" Hargjorn squinted to get a better look. Ashav waved everyone down, in case whoever one the vessel could be hostile. "Could be the Armigers; let's go have a gander."

"Madura, go inside the ruin and warn Edith that she may have company." Ashav ordered. Sharp winds suddenly blew over, drowning down his raspy voice. "I ask again, can you two follow or do you need shelter?"