[center][h3][b]WOE[/b][/h3][/center] [i]10th of Last Seed, 4E205 Jehanna, High Rock[/i] Narzul did not attend the funeral. Neither did Niernen, who was still exhausted from her ordeals, but that was not the excuse she claimed. Dunmer did not acknowledge the Divines as their own gods and whatever funeral rites were about to be performed had no religious or spiritual significance to them. The two of them hadn’t been close to any of the deceased either. And last but not least… they had other things on their minds. After her interview with Madara, the reporter that worked for the [i]Tamrielic Gazette,[/i] Niernen had picked up a habit of reading the newspaper whenever a new edition came out. Narzul had secured a room for them at the Lucky Bird as soon as they docked on the 9th and practically carried his little sister into it, making sure she was comfortable in bed before acquiescing to her two last wishes for the day: a hot meal and the latest newspaper. He had felt immensely guilty over the way things had gone during the fight with the Sload and its Dreugh minions. He had somehow allowed the raging waves to knock her out of his arms and she nearly drowned because of it -- if it weren’t for the efforts of Sevine, Wylendriel, Maj and Dar’Jzo, she surely would have died. Narzul had been dressed in his heavy armor and the time it would have taken to free himself, what with the salt water tightening the leather straps even more, even [i]if[/i] he had cut himself loose, would have been enough for Niernen to submerge beneath the surface forever. It was a bitter pill to swallow. Once again, he had not been able to protect her. So like any good brother did, he had completely taken on her care during her recovery without a single squeak of complaint and now that she was awake and talking again, did whatever she asked without hesitation. He hadn’t read the newspaper himself when he returned with it. It wasn’t until Niernen had finished her meal and opened the pages to see what had happened in the world while they were traveling that the awful news reached them. If Narzul closed his eyes, he could still see and hear how Niernen had gasped as if she’d been stabbed in the heart. He had been cleaning his blade and turned to look at her, finding her frozen in place, eyes wide, fingers trembling, mouth agape, staring at the newspaper in horror. He could still feel the immense, all-consuming fear that had bubbled up from his gut into the rest of his body, paralyzing his arms and his shoulders, clawing all the way up to his face. He’d opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out. He already knew. The risk had been there ever since the start of the invasion. But to think the Nerevarine [i]actually[/i] did it… The moment had stretched on seemingly forever, motes of dust suspended in the faint light of the fluttering candle on Niernen’s nightstand, until the spell had been broken by a ghastly, shivering sob as Narzul watched his sister collapse into a depth of grief he had never seen before. Something had suddenly reanimated him and he sprung into action, crossing the distance between his chair and the bed in two long strides before snatching the newspaper up to read for himself, eyes feverishly searching for the section Niernen had been reading, until -- [i]”SCANDAL! The Venim family, influential nobles of House Redoran, have been declared traitors. All Venim family members are executed (by the order of Grandmaster Farandras), while their associates and retainers are imprisoned and will be undergoing reeducation. Exposing and prosecuting the Venim family is the Sarethi family. A long-time rival to the Venims, the Sarethis found evidence of Venim family members funding and enlisting in enemy forces, and several Venim hirelings are --”[/i] The newspaper had uselessly dropped to the floor as Narzul’s fingers lost their strength. That was when he realized he had apparently stopped breathing. A long, shuddering intake of air was swiftly followed by an explosion of emotion, and he had observed himself from a distance as he grabbed his black blade and tore into the furniture and the walls of the room with unprecedented savagery. Niernen’s sobs of bereavement turned into screams of terror as Narzul destroyed everything he could, practically frothing at the mouth, his heart thundering in his ears so loud that it drowned out anything else, crimson eyes bulging in their sockets -- never in his life had he been so consumed by wrath and hatred as he was then. It was like a cannonball had struck the room, so great and terrible was his violence, and crushed, splintered and severed fragments of wood lay scattered across the floor by the time he was done, when there was nothing left to destroy but the bed. A squeal of fear had escaped Niernen’s throat as Narzul turned to face her, chest heaving, his throat rattling with every vengeful breath -- would he blame her, like he’d done before? Was he going to say that it was her fault that everything had happened? She knew that Narzul had just lost his future, his birthright, everything he had ever trained and worked so hard for, which was perhaps even more dear to him than his family itself. But to her surprise and immense relief, Narzul dropped his wicked war-sword to the ground and collapsed to his knees beside her before enveloping her in the most sincere, gutwrenching embrace she’d ever felt, and together they cried for what felt like hours. Between choking, tearful wails, Narzul had only been able to say two things. “Papa… mama…” Niernen’s heart broke. They had fallen asleep like that, huddled together for comfort, and not been roused from their deep (but restless) slumber until the following morning. After her tears had tried, Niernen was simply empty and she could do nothing but stare at the ceiling of their room. Narzul, on the other hand, was beset upon by the need to [i]do[/i] something, and while they waited out the duration of the funeral without leaving their room, Narzul eventually stopped pacing and donned his ramshackle suit of armor. “We have to kill him,” Narzul said to Niernen. It was the first sentence either of them had spoken since the news. She slowly turned her head to look at him, her expression as blank as only the traumatized can manage, and blinked. “The Nerevarine?” Narzul nodded. “Yes.” More than ten seconds passed before she could muster a reply. “Yes, we do.” “That’s settled then,” Narzul said with a note of finality and strode out of the room, closing the door behind him with force. It was time to find Gustav.