[center][url=https://fontmeme.com/guild-wars-2-font/][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/180907/8a0a7ff676afc5bac6987a6a242f6999.png[/img][/url] [h3]Gilane, Hammerfell[/h3][/center] [hr] [i]30th of Second Seed [s]10:00am[/s][/i] The voyage to Hammerfell proved a stark contrast to the disorder and havoc that ensnared Anvil in an iron claw. Kynareth smiled favorably upon the [i]Intrepid[/i], the winds carried the ship swiftly over shimmering turquoise waters, the sky above bore no promise of rain or foul weather while the air warmed considerably. For once, Brynja shirked her armor, finding the humid air almost unbearable. And for six days, the [i]Intrepid[/i] made record time sailing across the open waters. From the ship on certain occasions, those aboard the ship could see the coastline of Hammerfell, a drastic change compared to anywhere in Cyrodiil or Skyrim for that matter. By mid morning of the 30th, the city of Gilane came into sight. It was unlike anything Brynja had seen. The architecture alone was different from anything Skyrim had to offer; high sandstone walls with curious domed roofs that were adorned with light catching materials that brought out brilliant hues, with many of the more wealthy looking homes even electing to use what appeared to be gold. Sweeping curves dominated the style, with inviting windows and archways, and beautifully intricate stained glass. While the Nords preferred simple and practical designs that were as robust as its people, with ample use of timber and cemented cobblestone, many of the Redguards lacked access to an abundance of forests and masonry had to come from local sources, which often were buried within constantly shifting sands, along with short and robust foliage. It was an opposite world to what Brynja knew; mountains gave way to endless seas of sand, the forests for only a few small hardy palm trees that struggled for what little water was available, and muscle crippling cold to skin scorching heat. For those aboard the ship who weren’t used to such climates, the interior of Hammerfell was going to be extremely dangerous and dehydration was a threat that many to the East with its vast rivers and lakes would have failed to appreciate. [I]Best to stick near the coast for now,[/I] the Nord thought, the tropical ocean breeze both invigorating and somewhat ominous. The oceans gave life; leaving its side would bring peril. Standing beside her was Rhona, the enchantress had long since discarded the bloodstained dress in favor of her own linen gown. Her eyes were wide, empty, and stoic, as if she weren’t really seeing what lay before her. The night of their escape, Sora had tried to broach the subject of what happened with the man in the alleyway, but Rhona couldn’t handle it at the time. She could do nothing but cry, and when she wasn’t crying, she refused to eat, much less sleep. Dark circles had formed under her eyes, and she refused to take care of Tobias, pushing the goat away when he approached. And by the fourth day onboard, Brynja decided that enough was enough, Rhona was going to tell her what happened whether she liked it or not. With some gentle coaxing, and offerings of wine and cheese, Rhona opened up, her words not making any direct sense, leaving Brynja to piece the puzzle together. Brynja had taken to Rhona then, effectively keeping her under her wing, and giving anyone that wished to speak with her a death glare. The young woman needed to work through her actions on her own time, and come to terms with what she had done. She made sure the enchantress ate, and watched over her while she slept. And on the last evening spent aboard the ship, Brynja sought out Calen. If there was anyone that could help lift Rhona’s spirits it had to be him, where she encouraged him to speak with her when he had the chance. But this was a new day, and the city of Gilane was now in view. “Everything will be fine, Rhona.” She said, an attempt to reassure her. “Mm.” Was all she could muster, it was as if her eyes weren’t really seeing anything at this point. The port was fast approaching, the [I]Intrepid[/I] making towards an open mooring on the elaborate dockwork that allowed for larger vessels to offload passengers and cargo without the need to anchor far offshore and row in, tide permitting. The port seemed to be bustling, with sailors and dock workers, as well as visitors prowling the expansive network. The city seemed peaceful, and somewhat inviting; however, everyone knew that peace was a fleeting thing. It seemed that no matter where they went, disaster seemed to follow. It put a bit of a damper on the excitement of travel and leaving the troubles of Cyrodiil behind. Roux pulled Daro’Vasora aside as they watched the helmsman navigate his way towards their destination. “There’s no expedition, I thought you should know.” he said. That prompted a curious look, “So what’s this, then? Trying to get me back into your life with no follow through?” she asked. That prompted a single grunt of a laugh, “Not quite. Running into you was something of a random circumstance, but a fortunate one. I’ve been going back and forth between Gilane and Anvil for the past month now, trying to find people who are knowledgeable about what’s going on in Cyrodiil, the Dwemer situation.” The Khajiit’s ears folded back. “And what do you know of the Dwemer, Roux? Just stories that scared travellers babble to you?” she asked, a threat of menace in her tone. He gestured towards the mooring, where a robbed figure and a pair of armoured figures approached; even at this distance, Daro’Vasora could recognize the profile; the Dwemer were here. Her heart sank, and she stared at the Breton beside her with accusing daggers. “Why did you bring us here? They’ve slaughtered thousands!” she demanded. “We are all going in chains if we dock!” “Things aren’t that simple, Daro’Vasora.” He replied softly, letting out a sigh. His eyes looked tired. “They’ve been here for longer than the news of the sacking of the Imperial City. After dispatching armed resistance and ensuring riders and ships couldn’t pass word of what happened, they moved into the cities of Hammerfell and began to set up provisional governments. After the news of the Imperial City made its way back, they permitted travel once more and things are business as usual for most citizens. The city guard is still mostly Redguard, with Dwemer patrols and officers enforcing curfews. Citizens are allowed to keep personal weapons, but use against any official is met with immediate capital punishment and those who are detained are either never seen again, or sent to the arena. The new Governor enjoys her bloodsports.” Roux shook his head, his eyes meeting his feline companion, “I’ll explain more later, but know that as long as you and the others keep a low profile and don’t openly defy the Dwemer, you’ll be fine. But that’s not why I brought you here.” Daro’Vasora was tired of the word games, “Okay, enough. What do you want from us?” “This past week I’ve gotten to know everyone you brought in from your group, every single one of them has experience with Dwemer invasion and occupation. You’ve fought them, you’re knowledgeable and have motives to see them through. The insurgency needs allies, and people who are capable and willing of doing what needs to be done. This peace, this quiet… it’s under an iron thumb. I won’t say that Hammerfell’s had it like the butchers of Cyrodiil inflicted, but every one of us has lost something, someone.” He looked down, away from her, his hands white knuckled as they gripped the railing. “I had a wife and daughter. [I]Had[/I]. After you and I parted ways in the worst possible way, I was suddenly beset with wealth and fame, and it got me into some circles that I never thought I’d be a part of. I met Valerie and we had something, you know? Little Elodie was along shortly after, and it was when she came into the world I knew I had to be a better man than I was. I always meant to apologize if I’d seen you again, I was young and foolish. It doesn’t excuse what I did, Daro’Vasora. I could see it in your eyes the way you looked at me when I first found you in the bath house that I’d left my share of scars, and I honestly had no idea until that moment. I don’t ask forgiveness, just… understanding. I’m not that man I was, and that Valerie and Elodie were on one of those ships that tried to get away when the Dwemer first came to the city. They never found the bodies.” he said softly, a hand cupping over his mouth as he struggled to maintain his composure. For once, Daro’Vasora didn’t know what to say. Roux clearly had pain inside he was keeping down, and she could see that same haunting look of loss she’d seen on so many faces the past few weeks. The man she’d known wasn’t this sailor who selflessly waited until everyone the Khajiit came with to the city was on board, who kept Rhea’s body immersed in salt and wrapped for a proper burial instead of tossing her out to sea to prevent illness and decay, the one who spoke frankly of having loved and lost at the hands of the Dwemer. It was a moment that put in perspective for Daro’Vasora that she wasn’t the only one who’d lost a loved one since the Dwemer returned. She steeled her resolve; the past was the past, and if nothing else, both shared a pain and cold drive for vengeance against the Deep Elves. It would be enough to start some sort of working relationship. “I’m sorry.” She managed, as the ship was coming into dock, “I’d like to hear about them when you are able.” “Thank you. It’s more kindness than I deserve, to be frank.” The sailors tossed lines of rope over the port side of the ship, and dock workers tied them off to the cleats that lined the deck. Roux cleared his throat, and the amicable facade resumed, “The Dwemer waiting down below are just customs officers. They’re mainly looking for contraband, like weapons, drugs, things of that nature. They might question you about the Dwemer items in your possession, but they’re old relics. They might just confiscate them if you present them and your documentations, but don’t hide anything. Stick to being a scholar and an explorer, be friendly and cordial. Make it seem like you [I]like[/i] them. These Dwemer tend to be fairly lenient and even kind when they aren’t challenged, but if they suspect you were actively fighting and killing their men, everyone on this ship could be in peril. Understand?” “Weylkend clear.” The Khajiit replied with an irritated huff. Taking a few moments to compose herself, she watched as the dock workers worked to put a ramp onto the [I]Intrepid[/I]. Roux and Daro’Vasora went down to greet the three Dwemer that came aboard. “Welcome to Volenfell, travellers. You are the captain, I presume?” The robed elf asked, not unkindly. His robes were purple, and a curious side arm was affixed to his belt. However, it looked more there as a symbol of authority rather than malicious intent. His companions carried more of the firearms that Daro’Vasora had seen far too many times before, but the design was different. Even their armour looked to possess a different design philosophy behind it, and it appeared lighter than the heavy warrior plate; their heads with ornately braided hair was left uncovered. Their skin was a light tan-grey complexion that wasn’t entirely unpleasant; they looked like antiquities come to life. Roux smiled, and had his papers ready, “Yes, Inspector. I am Captain Roux Dupris of the [I]Intrepid[/I], registered merchant vessel. We sailed from Anvil, which was besieged by the Aldmeri Dominion. No cargo, just passengers, and one body that needs a proper burial.” The Inspector took it in stride, “News of the attack has reached us far sooner than you might suspect. A Dominion vessel arrived late yesterday to speak with Governor Rourken. I do not intend to keep your passengers held for long, just long enough for us to do our inspection. Do you have anything to declare?” he asked, his eye catching Daro’Vasora and her Dwemer jewelry. She felt her throat tighten as the Dwemer regarded her. “Might I inquire where you came across the Dwemer craftsmanship in your possession?” he asked. “I am a scholar and researcher, sir.” she replied, doing her best to seem friendly and open. She presented the remaining bangle and necklace to the Inspector, who looked them over with a curator's eye. To her surprise, he handed them back with a smile, “Remarkable. As much as I would love to own such a piece of history for my own collection, it is not my duty nor ethics to confiscate pieces of our ancestor’s culture from private ownership. You’ve studied our people, Khajiit?” he asked. “Yes, sir. For at least the past 8 years, Dwemer and Alyeids are my area of scholarly interest.” she answered, offering her notes from the expeditions for his inspection. The Inspector carefully thumbed through the pages, his eyes wide with interest. Thankfully, he didn’t go to the later pages, where her notes on the modern contraptions came up. “Simply wonderful. There is much from our history that is lost to us, and we hope to relearn it. Thank you for keeping our civilization alive through the many long years of our absence. If you are willing, please take your findings to our cultural center in the palace grounds. You will be compensated for your contributions. Please excuse me, I’ve a ship to inspect before I can release you to the city proper. Thank you for your time.” With a respectful nod, the Dwemer carried on with Roux at their side, leaving Daro’Vasora blinking in confusion. What just happened? [hr] After half an hour, the inspection was concluded, and a coroner’s party was sent to retrieve Rhea’s body to bring to the Temple of Arkay in the city with directions of how to reach there, as well as the time for her funeral service. The Inspector and his guards bid the passengers farewell, and gave them each a metal token that granted them access to the city. Guides immediately made themselves available, as well as vendors, and soon they crossed the threshold into the city gates and found themselves immediately surrounded by a bazaar with shaded vendor stalls carved out of the side of long buildings, hawking wares with enthusiasm and intensity that suggested a fairly lively populace. It was an oddly familiar sight, even with the occasional Dwemer patrol walking along the streets, even a few of the vendors were Dwemer, selling all sorts of interesting culinary wares, mechanical contraptions, and other odds and ends. It almost seemed like both the native Redguard populace and the newcomers were integrating rather well; they didn’t seem like they were brutally suppressed and in a moment of surreality, someone bumped into Daro’Vasora, and before she could snap something indignant to the inattentive prick, she looked down and saw the face of a Dwemer child, who stared up at her with wide eyes. She’d never seen a Dwemer child before, and he had three friends, or siblings, who all gawked at the newcomers. A ball sat at her feet, and a harried woman with a Redguard-style set of dreadlocks but decidedly Dwemer features came hurrying over, “I am terribly sorry! Please pardon my son, you know how children are. They’ve just never seen a Khajiit before, it was hard to explain your people to them.” she explained in a hurry, looking both flustered and embarrassed. Without thinking about it, Daro’Vasora bent down, picked up the ball, and handed it back to the child, who continued to stare in disbelief. Brynja grabbed Rhona by the shoulder, whispering in her ear, “You stick close to me, you hear?” “Thank you, kitty lady! You’re pretty!” the child beamed, and went to reach out to take the ball back. “Can I touch your fur?” “Uritz!” The mother snapped aghast, “Manners, young man!” The boy’s hand recoiled. He looked back to his mother, the Khajiit, and then took off with a drawn out, “Byyyeee!” as the kids took off again with the ball. The mother apologized again and took in pursuit. “Everything about today hurts my head.” She muttered to Judena and Latro. “Dwemer children…” Rhona whispered. What a sight that was to behold. Never in all her life did she imagine she would have had the opportunity to lay eyes on a living breathing Dwemer child. And Brynja shared the same unspoken thoughts, although it put her more on edge to experience the Dwemer living and breathing so casually after what she experienced not only in the Jerall Mountains, but the Imperial City, and the raid on Elenglynn. She had her own suspicions, but she kept her mouth shut, better to stay alive than end up dead. The group carried on until they reached a junction that took them away from the sprawling bazaar and the crowds until Roux lead them to a fairly large hotel called the [I]Three Crowns Hotel[/I], a surprisingly luxurious place that couldn’t have been cheap to stay the night with balconies off most rooms, a large fountain in the front, and a courtyard bathhouse that was in reality supplied water from a complex of ancient Dwemer piping and machinery; the entire city of Gilane was built around an ancient Dwemer settlement, Daro’Vasora knew. Still, the group was lead inside and through the halls until reaching a red curtain flanked by a pair of armed guards, who looked at the approaching group suspiciously. “The Ra Gada stand proud and ready.” Roux announced. Evidently, it was a passphrase of sorts, as the group was then ushered in by the guards and told to make themselves comfortable on an assortment of luxurious furniture, including a number of flow pillows and rugs. A pair of hookahs sat open and ready, and wine pitches sat near a wall of assorted bottles of different vintages. After a few minutes, another curtain opened and a portly, albeit fatherly, Redguard man with a well-trimmed black beard and a a flowing white ensemble with a golden waist sash came into the room, where he greeted Roux with an embrace and the pair kissed one another on their cheeks as a greeting. “I am pleased to see your travels kept you safe, and you’ve brought friends with you. It warms my heart to see you, Roux.” the man said. “Likewise, these are all people that I know would have something to offer our cause. They are no friends of the enemy; they’ve fought them in Cyrodiil and bring both knowledge and experience of affairs outside of Hammerfell’s borders.” “Splendid.” The man clasped a pair of meaty hands together in a loud clap and studied all of the faces in the room. His disposition was warm and inviting, like he was hosting a house party. “My friends, welcome to Gilane and my establishment, the [I]Three Crowns[/I]. You may call me the Poncy Man until we’ve come to build a relationship based on trust and proving ourselves to one another, but know that I am a leading member of the Hammerfell Merchant Guild and I have balked at the occupiers since their arrival and wish to see my city streets free once more. It has been my considerable finances that have enabled men and women like you stand up to tyranny and demonstrate to my countrymen that we have nothing to fear from the occupiers as long as good people are willing to stand up for what is decent and right.” He said, slapping his fingers into a palm to emphasize the last few words. He smiled apologetically, stretching his arms out invitingly. “I must apologize, you all must be exhausted from travel. You are all my guests in this establishment, and since there are others like yourself here who are a part of the cause, we have set some rooms for your group that you may share to act as a home base, as it were, while here. I speak frankly and openly to you, as word has reached me of the trials you have endured in Cyrodiil. We are brothers and sisters bound by a shared struggle, and for that it is my genuine pleasure to offer you some comfort as long as you assist the resistance to the best of your abilities. Should you wish to join us in our quest for liberty, you are welcome and honoured guests who will be using this establishment as a safe house. You will appear to be customers and vacationing guests, so it will not arouse suspicion as you come and go. But for now, we have four suites set aside for you, please divide yourselves by sex in respect to the privacy of the women. Rest for today and tonight, tomorrow we will speak again and if you wish to pursue a partnership with us against our enemy, and we shall plan our first moves together. If you will excuse me, I have matters to attend to.” He bowed slightly. “Welcome to Hammerfell, please enjoy what Gilane has to offer in the meantime.” With that, the Poncy Man turned back, leaving the group to their devices. Deciding the only fair way to divide the lodging accommodations was to draw names to sort the rooms, Brynja called out the names. “Ladies first room, Megana, Anifaire, Nanine, and myself. Second room for the ladies, Rhona, Judena, Raelynn, and Daro’Vasora.” Putting that cup down, she picked up the second cup with the men’s names. “And for the first men’s room, Jaraleet, Solandil, Durantel, Latro. And finally, Alim, Calen, and Gregor. Try to behave yourselves, we’re guests here.” she said with a hint of warning. The guards escorted the two groups down separate hallways, and led them to their accommodations. Their quarters were sprawling, each with four beds separated by wooden privacy barriers and a number of padded benches and chairs, a dining table, private dressers and a wooden chest at the foot of each bed. Floor-to-ceiling curtains concealed a balcony with cushioned seating and side tables. All considered, it was surprisingly luxurious considering the accommodations everyone had endured for the past several weeks, save for the brief days in Anvil. Now free of obligations for the evening, the companions were free to discover Gilane at their own leisure and decide where their paths would lead. [center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f64BjNni2po[/youtube][/center]