[center][h3][b]A Scouting Adventure[/b][/h3]
[hr]
[/center]

[sub]By [@Dervish] and I[/sub]

[i]5th of Second Seed, 4E 208[/i]

The Colovian Rangers, were not entirely [i]rangers[/i], so to say. The volunteers came from all walks of life, there were, however, a good percentage of the group that consisted of scouts or archers. Daro’Vasora and Brynja were amongst them, along with Solandil, and a peculiar woman by the name of Raelynn. They assembled outside of the large canvas tent in the grey hours of dawn, the chill from yesterday’s morning rain and overcast skies, left Brynja longing for a fire to chase the chill from her bones. Within an hour the group set out, heading north north-east. 

The head scout, whom they first met back in Skingrad, trekked leagues ahead of the group with three other Rangers. His name was Kylian, a young Breton man with dashing good looks. He had sandy blond locks that fell to his jaw, though he kept his hair pulled back from his face with a leather tie. He sported a set of earth colored leathers, an olive green jerkin, tan trousers, and brown leather boots, along with a matching  set of gloves and cloak. While most women would find him highly attractive with his angled ears, and delicate features befitting a bard, were he one, Kylian possessed a shy disposition. He avoided any unnecessary conversation, preferring to let an awkward silence fill the air. It didn’t seem to bother him much, though his habit of speaking softly made his cheeks turn red when someone inquired him to repeat himself. However, Brutus was the polar opposite of their head scout.

Brutus had a boisterous nature, and reminded Brynja much of a donkey. Not that he was daft, but that he brayed loudly, and for no apparent reason. Or a pig that refused to stay out of the cabbage patch. Despite that, he seemed to have a clear head about the matters at hand. He placed the slowest of the Rangers at the front of the group so as not to overwhelm and exhaust them. From what she could glean, quite a few Imperial soldiers joined the Rangers. 

“Alright, listen up; first off, I want to welcome the newcomers to the ranks. It takes real courage to experience what we have and immediately sign up to take the fight back to them, and I know many of you are probably scared and apprehensive about what’s to come, but to push forward in spite of that is what it means to be a hero. And that’s what each and every one of you are; all of those people who escaped the Imperial City need to see ordinary citizens rising up to show that even bastards who come from the sky can be beaten. Heed my words, Rangers; they can be beaten. And we will show the rest of Tamriel how.”

From a crate, Brutus pulled out a Dwemer spider that had been stripped of its weapons and its legs cropped down to half their normal length to reduce the risk. The soul gem on top was removed and kept in a separate pouch. “Pollux, if you would do the honours. Explain your findings to our team.” he said, gesturing an Imperial mage with an immaculately trimmed beard and a healthy glow to his olive skin, unblemished saved for crows feet around his eyes while a pair of heavily calloused hands protruded from his Imperial Arcane University robes. He looked to be in his mid-40s, and only a smidge of grey peppered the long black hair that was pulled back into a ponytail. 

“I captured this specimen from the Imperial City, and I had managed to disable it with a generous application of a shock spell. I was able to extract myself across the Western bridge using an invisibility and a feather spell that had allowed me to carry the disabled spider without much difficulty. Given the chaos, it would seem our guests didn’t pay much notice to one of their contraptions levitating.” he allowed himself a self-amused smile.

“So, to cut out the mundane details of how I acquired this specimen, I’ve done a bit of testing with the assistance of those whom would form the Colovian Rangers under Brutus. Drinks-Many-Rivers, if you would lend your strength for a moment.” Pollux called to a heavily built Argonian carrying a kanabo, a one and a half meter long wooden club that was carved into a hexagon with iron studs lining the upper third of its length and a leather wrap around the rest of its long grip. Drinks-Many-Rivers looked to be the kind of individual that could lift Daro’Vasora with a singular hand and have little issue besting an Orcish warchief in a wrestling match, his green and black scales, along with the rows of horns protruding from his chin, gave him a suitably intimidating appearance. His heavy armour came with a reptilian scale covered plates that were layered over each other in a scale pattern to disperse the blows, reinforced by chainmail and steel weave to give the large shirt he wore extra protection and flexibility, and upon his right shoulder was mounted a troll skull, along with a few smaller ones worn as a waist belt. He evidently was extremely confident and proud of his martial prowess. 

Drinks-Many-Rivers pulled the spider out of the box and set it on the ground. He took the offered soul gem from Brutus and pulling open the top cage, inserted it into the gem slot and the automata sprang to life… as much as its handicapped form was capable of moving. Without the long legs or pincers, it was incapable of jumping or pinching its prey. The beefy Argonian drew back his kanabo and with a heavy overhead swing smashed it into the spider’s frame, battering it around, but doing little more than breaking a few of the more fragile joints and cracking the soul gem; the body was still functional, despite a few hefty dents.

Pollux took the opportunity to continue his explanation, “As you can see, the Dwemer alloy is remarkably robust, and the large suits of powered armour you’ve likely seen them deploy are made of the same materials, only scaled up considerably. If Drinks cannot appreciably damage the main body of the spiders, you can be sure that trying conventional means to destroy the larger Dwemer constructs will be a fool’s errand. You will need to pierce joints or crush pivoting apparatus with blunt weaponry, however, there’s an easier method.”

Drinks stood back as Pollux approached the spider that was limping towards him pitifully. Frost formed at his fingers and soon, the legs became enshrouded in ice, immobilized. “Frost magic seems to do wonders at freezing the oils and other lubricants used in the automata. If any among you are mages, I’ve managed to acquire a few cheap spell tomes for Frost and Shock spells from our Thalmor ‘friends’, who still have access to Skingrad.” the way he said friends was evidently so drenched in sarcasm, Pollux could have choked upon his words. 

The Spider still struggled to move in spite of this, and a bolt of lighting shot from the mage’s fingertips, causing the free parts of the spider to shake violently before stopping dead. The soul gem shattered, having already suffered a major fracture from the Argonian’s efforts.

“I have discovered that this Dwemer alloy seems to be especially susceptible to Shock, and I have reason to believe that if one were to apply enough electricity to any of the Dwemer contraptions, you could in theory disable them entirely, or at least isolated components. Therefore, what I propose is we… liberate a few of these armoured suits the Dwemer have possession of. Use Frost to immobilize the limbs and weapons, and shock to disable the wearer and possibly the soul gem. The only problem is getting close enough to do this. This is why I’ve enlisted the help of any enchanter I’ve been able to press into service to craft as many staffs as they could the past two nights; they aren’t anyone’s finest work, but enough of them should do the job.” Pollux concluded as Drinks put the spider back into its box.

Brynja scoffed at the display, not that she didn’t appreciate the new information on how to effectively handle the spiders, but at how she lacked such skills to aid further in this conquest.

“I guess now would’ve been the time to have taken my lessons seriously as a girl.” She grumbled. Daro’Vasora stood beside her, the two women had formed a silent partnership throughout the first half of the day trekking, both remained stoic, each lost in their thoughts, yet their pace alongside one another did not break. 

“What do you make of all this?” She asked.

A bone from the past meal jutted out from Daro’Vasora’s lips like a pipe, keeping her oral fixation satisfied so her mind could work. She could understand Brynja’s reservation, but the Khajiit was never one to decide something was impossible until all approaches had been exhausted. “We’re further along than we were even a few minutes ago. I’m not a mage, but I can tell a number of these folk are, and now we have some tangible proof that the Dwemer armour has a few chinks. Remember, not everything they have is impenetrable, so it’s not like spitting into a lake and hoping to raise the shoreline. I’ve killed spiders and spheres like this, albeit a lot less refined. The key is the soul gem, if you can get that dislodged, the whole show stops. I remember there being some sort of bucket shape on the chest of those large suits; I’m willing to bet that’s where a soul gem is housed, and they can’t run indefinitely. From my studies and expeditions, I’ve not come across much evidence the Dwemer really valued mages. It would be interesting to see if that changed.” she remarked levelly, her mind mulling over what she knew with what she had recently experienced. The grief she had suffered had largely passed, and now she had a mission to focus on. It was therapy of sorts.

She nodded at the clarity of Vasora’s words, “When you put it like that, that makes a lot more sense than fancy pants over here.” 

The Khajiit raised an eyebrow to her companion. “Which part of that explanation was complicated? Shocky bits fry contraptions, freezy bits stop them. I thought it was adequate so we aren’t fumbling around like idiots who will die by the dozen until we figure out the secret to success.”

Brynja said, shaking her head, “When I was a girl, the lessons my mother taught me didn’t stick as well, but when my brother or father helped, it made better sense. I’m not saying that it was complicated. I’m saying that your explanation helped make the situation clearer. People over-complicate explanations, too much jargon, and look at those around us. There aren’t but a small handful here who use magic. To them, what Pollux said makes sense. Clear as water. To me, it’s murky as a puddle. I know the water is cloudy because of the mud, but I know not why or how, or even why it matters. I’m not stupid, y’know, people learn differently is all. Take it as a compliment. You just helped me better understand our enemy.” She shrugged her shoulders at the end.

“How metaphorical.” Daro’Vasora let the corners of her lips upturn into a slight smile, feeling pleased by the compliment. Her relationship with Brynja was certainly becoming less strained, and for whatever reason, the Nord seemed to be loyal to her and without judgement. A sensation of guilt had crept into her consciousness the past several days, especially since Zegol’s passing, that made Daro’Vasora regret some of her snide remarks from the earlier parts of their acquaintance. “Thank you, I suppose. It’s strange, isn’t it? I’m outside of my element doing this sort of assignment, I’ve never been much of a fighter, and here I am being some use to you thanks to some technical knowledge I’ve buried away in my head. 

“I’ve never really known many warriors or soldiers for that matter, just a few sellswords, but most of the people I’ve associated with have been those cut from a similar cloth as myself. There’s a certain amount of knowledge and a specific set of skills for those of us who plunder history for profit, and a healthy amount of distrust and competition. I’ve rarely encountered someone who is quite as straightforward and honest as you are, I never gleaned a hint of ulterior motive or greed from you. You genuinely seem to care about my well-being, and you’ve stubbornly endured my caustic tongue to still stand alongside me.” the Khajiit paused, turning to look towards Brynja. “I should apologize for all of that. Trust is a hard thing for me to come by, and because of my way of life, I’ve learned to distrust everyone to the point I expect betrayals like it’s a part of the game. Usually being snarky and getting under people’s skin is a way for me to turn someone over in my mind, like inspecting a trinket or gemstone to see their true colours. It doesn’t make me an easy person to like. So… thank you, Brynja Whitehand. It’s nice to know that there’s someone who isn’t a morally bankrupt sload out there.”

Daro’Vasora’s words sank into her mind, like dry soil soaking up a fresh summer rain. She shifted uneasily on her feet as a million responses to the Khajiit’s words rushed through her head at a frenzied pace, before she tucked her hands under her elbows.

“All I’ve done since the war is protect and serve. I think that’s the first time I’ve been thanked for just being myself.” Her eyes studied the Khajiit, almost uncertain if what she heard was a farce.

“And you’ve no need to apologize, that distrust, it’s what keeps us alive in the end.” The crowd around Pollux had thinned out, she overheard Drinks saying that they were to make camp for the night here. 

“Let’s get a tent up. Kylian has yet to return with the other scouts, we’re going to need all the rest we can get.”

For the remainder of the evening, Brynja and Daro’Vasora entertained one another with tales of their adventure, Brynja with her quests with Rorik, and Daro’Vasora with the esteemed treasures she had found over the past several years.

[hr]

[i]6th of Second Seed, 4E208, Early Morning[/i]

Brynja roused herself from sleep at what she thought to be the chill in her body, the campfire must’ve gone out throughout the late hours of the night. As she pushed back the flap on the canvas tent, she could see that the grey light of dawn broke through the darkness. She could hear murmuring at one end of camp, and much commotion. Others were roused from their sleep, and soon enough, word had spread that the scouts had returned with news. They had located a Dwemer outpost.

“Half day’s march to the North, a small detachment.” Kylian reported to Brutus, something Daro’Vasora picked up on over a bowl of baked beans. The commander nodded and began issuing out orders to his lieutenants. Within 20 minutes, Brutus announced to the camp, “Gather your gear and break camp; we set out in an hour.” 

True to the young scout’s words, the Rangers had come across the Dwemer outpost, the two large cylindrical balloons of docked airships visible through the treeline. Brutus had everyone leave their non-combat equipment behind, concealed in the brush, and soon were moving stealthily through the forest.  It didn’t take Daro’Vasora long to realize where they were.

“This is Elenglynn,” the Khajiit explained to Brynja in a hushed tone. Sure enough, the two airships were docked above the white stone of an Ayleid ruin that was little more than a series of rubble these days; only a few distinct pillars and the general foundation of the subterranean ruin remained intact. “I came here my second or third year tomb raiding, didn’t find much; centuries of looters more or less picked the place dry.” 

“You’ll have to tell me about it if we survive. Never studied the Ayleids.” She muttered to Vasora.

Brutus was nearby, making his own observations. “I’d wager they’re using it to store supplies and to use as a barracks. If we could take down those airships, they’d be stranded…” he trailed off, moving to confer with Drinks-Many-Rivers on the feasibility of such an act. In the meantime, it was all anyone could do but watch and wait.

Scattered around the ruins was a detachment of 17 visible Dwemer, including 3 in the power armour that had seemed ubiquitous in Imperial City. While automata like spiders and spheres weren’t present, it was also impossible to know how many enemy soldiers were present down in the Alyeid ruins themselves. While no mages were visibly present, there were scones with soul gems in them that some of the Rangers would have known were something like perimeter defences that let out nasty electrical shocks. The Dwemer themselves were in a mix of medium and heavy armour, most opted for decent protection without being fatigued or slowed down, and outside of conventional weaponry, four of the Dwemer were using the staff-like firearms. It was hard to say how well they’d penetrate armour, since they’d only really been witnessed engaging civilians, but suffice to say, it would be ill-advised to test one’s luck.

Brutus gathered a group, instructing them to pass the word along. “We need to lure those mechanical suits into the forest to draw them away from the camp if they don’t leave on patrol. They’ll tear us apart on their terms, especially if they have infantry support. If we get them on their own without alerting the rest of them, we can use our mage and staff squad to immobilize them so we can remove the soul gem powering them. I want to capture at least one of them for intelligence purposes, maybe even find a way to use them. Nobody acts until Pollux’s team does, understood? While that’s going on, we need most of our manpower to prepare to storm the camp, overwhelm the defenders before they can get reinforcements from within or take to the airships. They take off with those and our mission is a failure. Let’s make it worthwhile, Rangers. Akatosh is watching over us.”

After a few hours, the sun began to dip lower into the horizon and cast upon the decrepit ruins an inviting orange glow, casting long shadows from the trees and the old crumbled pillars that remained of Elenglynn. To everyone’s surprise, two Dwemer mounted up in the suits and were flanked by 8 soldiers from the ruins who had emerged specifically for the patrol duty. With curious blue lanterns in hand that emitted a fairly strong glow, the patrol set off to the Southwest, leaving the camp behind. It was the best opportunity they were getting. 

“Let’s get this done.”

https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/elderscrolls/images/b/b0/ElenglynnView.png/revision/latest?cb=20120513001346

[hr]

[i]5th of Second Seed, Back in Skingrad…[/i]

Rhea had spent the better half of the morning, and the latter half of the afternoon circling the exterior of the city. At each gate, guards patrolled the area with a degree of severity. She admired their dedication to the Count and his orders, but she struggled to overcome her inner anger at the same decision. Hundreds if not thousands of refugees now had arrived at Skingrad seeking safety from the Dwemer, and Count Hassildor simply barred the gates against them. 

She rose early that morning, long before Daro’Vasora and the other members of the group left with the Rangers on their scouting expedition, and set her own mind to finding an unguarded way into the city. Her search proved fruitless. Those that remained from the original company needed supplies. They needed food, water, and even medicine. Yet the impenetrable walls loomed over her, casting dark shadows in the morning light. She grounded her teeth in frustration. Convinced that the morning patrols were heavy, Rhea decided to try her luck at nightfall.

As she made her way back around the far end of the city walls, she wondered what would motivate the Count to keep the refugees out. Surely, an influx of refugees coming from anyplace would put a strain on food and other supplies, but there was also coin to be found in benefitting from the people’s needs. Prices on food and essentials would skyrocket and the locals would profit monetarily. 

So lost in her own thoughts that she paid little attention to her return to the refugee camp, her feet guiding her back to the area where the group had made camp. Just then, a voice broke her train of thoughts.

“You’re looking for a way inside, aren’t you?” A whispery, snake like voice caused her to turn and face the owner. A tall Dunmer with dark red eyes watched her, his thin brows pushed together. He had shoulder length hair, black as night, with a beak like nose. His lips were thin, as if he had eaten too many lemons. His entire ensemble was black, from cape and gloves to belt and boots. But it was the way that he held himself that drew her closer. 

“Why do you ask?” Rhea took a step towards him, her own eyes narrowing at this Dunmer before her. He held his hands clasped behind his back, with a rather rigid stature. 

“Many people have looked for a way inside. But I… I know a way inside. I don’t assume… but the way that you carry yourself, and those that arrived in your company… know a way around a blade, yes?” His words reminded her of a snake slipping through the shadows without a sound, ready to pounce on its next unexpecting victim.

“We do. Why does that matter? I need to get inside, we need-” He cut her off before she could finish.

“Supplies. Yes. We all do.” He paused in his speech, his dark eyes sweeping over her. “I can get you inside the city, as I won’t take any fools stupid enough to get caught, and I can get you the supplies you need… for a price.” The corners of his mouth lifted in a ghost of a grin before it vanished.

She considered his offer, and swallowed hard, “What price do I pay?”

“That isn’t an immediate necessity, as I will get my payment when it is time… You may bring one or two others to help, but that is all.” He kept his voice low so as to avoid others around them from over hearing.

“When? When can you get us inside?” 

“Tonight. When the moon is highest in the sky, come, and you will find me along the south wall.” He turned to leave when she grabbed his wrist.

“Tell me your name, at least.”

“Severus Favarani, but you can call me Severus.” He pulled away from her and slipped into the crowds, leaving her standing alone.

Once at camp, Rhea took a seat on an old wooden stump. She chewed on her lower lip, and if she chewed any harder, she wouldn’t have a lower lip at all. Did she really want to use Severus as a way to get inside the city? Could the group make it without the needed supplies? The more she debated, the more her mind decided that she had to do this. Even if he didn’t name a price, which certainly put her on edge, she would have to do it. The question is, would anyone [i]want[/i] to take that chance?

She lifted her head, taking in who was still present and rose to her feet. Clearing her throat, she called out to them.

“I can get us the supplies we need, I have sat and debated, and we cannot forgo those necessities. There is a man willing to help us get inside, but I can only bring two of you. You do not have to come with me and take this risk, as his intentions are unclear. This could be a trap, and that last thing I want is to put any of your lives in danger after all that I have put you through. I will try speaking with Petronius, Captain of the Guard here, and see if he will grant me an audience with Count Hassildor. I can offer the Count information about the Dwemer, and in exchange I will get us lodging. But in the meantime, I cannot sit around and let you all starve despite your hunting efforts. There are other refugees out hunting, and game will soon be scarce if we stay here any longer. If you want to come with me, I leave when the moon is high.” Rhea said after a sigh. She had to speak with Petronius again, he had yet to send anyone for her. 

[i]Night, Skingrad[/i]

Rhea made ready, remembering Severus’ words that he would be along the south wall. She turned to those gathered around the campfire, and approached the flames.

“If any of you are to come with me, I leave now.” She waited, nodded her head and turned to leave, beginning the trek to the southern wall.

The moon shone bright, though clouds drifted across the silvery disk on occasion. Stars twinkled like diamonds embedded in a swath of black velvet. A quiet breeze made the grass bend and shift, carrying its sweet scent.

It took no less than half an hour to reach the southern wall at the pace Rhea set. However, she did not see Severus immediately. She stood firm, eyes scanning the wall for any figure before venturing closer. She heard his voice then, that same snake like whisper again, and he stepped out from a hidden alcove in the towering wall.

“I’m glad to see you made it… come… before the guards see.” He beckoned them to enter, and once inside, he pulled back the layer of vines that had grown over a metal gate, where he procured a ball of magelight in his hand.

“This tunnel has long been without use, but tonight, it will lead us into the city, and I can get you the supplies as promised. Keep your voices low, as the tunnel will carry your words.”