[h3]Checkmate, Part I[/h3] [I]14th Midyear 4E208, Governor’s Palace, 10am…[/I] The reflection staring back in the mirror looked surprisingly healthy, serene, even. The Khajiit that stared back had good posture, and the blue dress seemed to shimmer like the sea in the morning light, complimenting the amulet Governor Razlinc Rourken had given her, sitting comfortably on a finely woven chord that let the pendant sit comfortably at the top of her ribs. Around her neck was a Dwemeri choker, the ancient bangles still about her wrists along with ribbon wraps that were about her hands and bare feet, coiling about her wrists and ankles in an eye-catching fashion. One thing about Daro’Vasora that never changed were her emerald green eyes, perpetually skeptical and distrusting, and her high ponytail, her mane sticking up high and defying gravity with how thick it was and how tightly the leather strip was binding it together. The blues brought out a pleasant hue to her grey coat, and she had to admit the Dwemer had a good eye for finding complementary outfits for people. It was a damn shame she was likely going to be buried in it later today, tomorrow, latest. She sighed, looking towards the sky outside and seeing Masser concealed behind blue sky; a perfect day, not a cloud in sight. She wished that she had moonsugar, but she would be speaking with her ancestors soon enough, she supposed. After finally composing her speech the night before, Daro’Vasora had decided to try meditation for a change, to come to terms with the little time she had left. She reflected on a lot, and found that in the end, Raelynn’s words came back to her and brought her some comfort. [I]It’s okay if it’s me.[/I] For once, Daro’Vasora understood. A knock on the door caught her attention, and Razlinc’s attendant opened the door, stepping inside sheepishly. He was a good man, polite and earnest, and she wondered what he would do with himself if he wasn’t working for the Governor. “Begging your pardon, Daro’Vasora, your speech will be in one hour. We will come to collect you in 40 minutes, please be prepared to receive us then.” He spoke, his voice softer than the pillow she’d had for the past week. “What, no requests for a last meal?” she asked him, so conversationally and pronounced as she turned to face him that the Dwemer seemed to be taken aback and unsure of what to say. “I don’t…” “Nevermind. Yes, I’ll be ready. May I have this time in privacy?” she asked. A nod was her response. “Of course. Pardon my intrusion.” he said, offering a polite bow before closing the door behind him. Daro’Vasora stepped out to the balcony, her speech lined up on the desk. She didn’t need to look at it; she’d memorized what she was going to say, and it was going to piss off a lot of people. She allowed a mischievous smile to cross her face. Good, that was one thing she excelled at. The moment Daro’Vasora was afraid to spit uncomfortable truths in people’s faces in a rather caustic and belligerent fashion was the day she truly died. She hoped her friends were there to see it, at least. [hr] As odd as it sounded, every nerve and anxious thought that fired off in Latro’s mind and set his bones to rattling and teeth clenching was gone the closer the trio came to the Palace’s servant quarters. It was a building that squatted next to the Palace without so much as a simple palisade for protection and nobody at all really batted an eye at Latro, Shakti, Calen, or even the grim-faced and implacable Zhaib. Latro almost felt that it was too easy, but after they made contact with one of the Poncy Man’s spies embedded there with the servants, it all went according to plan. Latro looked at himself in the mirror, hardly looking like anybody he recognized. The unpleasant feeling of looking at somebody else in mirrors had been something he’d gotten used to long ago, a boy locked up in a brothel and forced to put up the charade of being a girl put that to rest. But now, he felt like there was power in it. They would all look at him and not realize he was their doom until it was much too late. If they even had time to realize it at all. A small smile crept upon his lips, slightly more cruel and mischievous than the usual ones. What looked back at him in the mirror and mimicked that smile was a Redguard girl that was in her mid-20s, not to waste time with the powders and paint of the higher classes, but pretty all the same with shadowed eyes and painted brows, winged eyeliner brought out the copper hues. He nodded at her, turning away from the mirror and exiting the powder room, looking Zhaib up and down in his servant’s cloth. “You are unnerving in your ability to look so different.” The man said, voice not betraying any perturbation. “Ahem.” Latro’s brows went up and he craned his head forward expectantly. Zhaib sighed, keeping himself from rolling his eyes but the feeling was not lost on Latro, “You look ready and willing to serve.” Latro craned his head further, “My...Lady...of Dutiful Service.” “Thank you, Kharim.” Latro smiled and the pair were off to look for Shakti and Calen. Shakti almost bowled into the other pair as the left the dressing room. She had been too preoccupied with fussing with her dress and hair to notice the door opening. The normally cheerful Redguard girl looked positively stifled in even the plain gown of a servant girl. Her hair was also brushed back and put into a small ponytail. That too greatly annoyed the young woman, and she constantly itched at her scalp. She had at least gotten away with not putting on any powder. If she had been forced to wear makeup she might have combusted on the spot. Calen wasn’t too far behind Shakti, his outfit far simpler than what she was wearing. A blue cotton shirt was paired with brown linen pants and traditionally designed redguard boots with a high cut and laces threaded up to the top to securely fasten. The only other adorning accessory was a black leather belt of cheap design and likely recycled from scrap materials. The only other pampering he seemed to wear was a slight part in his blonde hair as it was combed off to the side. He seemed far more comfortable in his skin than Shakti did, as shown by the barely hidden amused grin on his face as he watched her expressions. “Well this isn’t so bad.” Calen beamed. His eyes fell on Latro, and the amused smile on his face grew even wider. With a joking tip of his head, he said, [i]“M’lady.”[/i] After nearly bumping into Zhaib’s chest, Shakti stopped and took a deep breath. “Okay, I am ready. Let’s find Sora.” Shakti declared, annoyance bubbling below her words. Zhaib remained stoic, despite the outfit which was proving to be loathsome. He was here at his Lady's command, to protect Latro and liberate the one called Sora. Underneath the costume, on his own clothing, he wore the Hawkford sigil with pride on his chest. It had been placed there by Raelynn herself. This wasn't just a rescue, this was for the Hawkford's, this was to get back the bloodshed and the blood taken from the Breton girl. He eyed up his fellow Redguard, glad for her company. He gave her a half smile of approval - a smile of acknowledgement. This was for Hammerfell too. “Keep your voice down and don’t speak of her in public.” Latro hissed, composing himself, “If we’re found out now, the others will be wading through shit and fighting in vain. Come.” With that, the four of them joined in the large procession of servants shuffling towards the Palace. They made their way across the plaza, Latro eyeing the battlements as they slowly came to their base, the huge gate opening before them with its giant cogs working. The servants didn’t wait for the doors to fully open, as soon as there was a crack with breadth enough for one man’s shoulders they proceeded single-file, then by the pair, trios, and finally a flood of them was in the courtyard, Latro, Shakti, Calen and Zhaib among them. Latro knew it was his idea to go in dressed like servants instead of soldiers, but the lack of his weapons did nothing to calm his nerves, not even his knife at the small of his back gave him strength. The only choice was to hurry onward. They finally came to the large double-doors of the Palace flanked by guards. One of them held out a hand for the trio to stop. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before.” One said. Latro swallowed, his mind racing but face a mask. Finally, he managed, “We are new, sir, my sister and brothers. We’re just here for work, no trouble, please.” His voice sounded every bit a sheepish and timid servant girl as he pitched it up and even his face betrayed a look that said ‘oh, pity me, whose already horrid luck has fallen so!’ It seemed to have worked on the guard, as he looked to his comrade, who briefly glanced at the blonde-haired Calen and back at Latro, his expression unconvinced. Calen stood on his toes with his finger raised to get their attention and, sounding deceivingly genuine, added, “Aye, except for me, right. I’m more of a childhood friend, really.” He shrugged, the other nodded and they were waved through, “Come on then, no lollygagging.” Latro nodded vigorously, “Of course, never, thank you, sir!” He bowed at them as they passed, “A thousand thanks to you, peace be upon you!” “Yeah, yeah. Go with peace and all that.” The guard threw a wave over his shoulder. Latro was himself again in seconds, a contented smile upon his visage as the trio moved through the halls, “Well, to where should we start cleaning? The dungeons? Staff offices?” He asked, turning to the other three, and added in hushed words, “Sora’s suite? I’m open to anything, my dear sister! Anything, brother!” His eyes went to Calen, “Dearest…” [i]“--Lover?”[/i] Calen inserted as he leaned his head in and raised his eyebrows. Though it was clear he was quite nervous with the whole fiasco of infiltrating the palace, he also seemed to be trying to cope with it via a sense of humor. Shakti made no attempt to hide her unhappiness, walking past guards wearing a pout, her arms crossed angrily. Luckily she was a young Redguard girl in servant’s garb and so she was basically invisible. Flustered servants being a dime a dozen in a palace such as this. Instead, Calen and Latro got questioned while she was merely waved in with nary a second look. This was so humiliating. She missed her tattered cloak and her sword. “If looks could kill, dearest sister, you’d be a weapon yourself.” He had his easy smile on Shakti as they walked. “Speaking of places to go,” Latro nodded to Calen as they continued onward and deeper into the Palace, “Can you guide us towards her?” “Sure,” the bard replied, “I’ll try my best.” However, Calen did falter for a moment to glance at Shakti again with a look of sympathy. He liked to think he was pretty good at reading people, but to be fair, she wasn’t even trying to hide it. Based off what he knew of Redguard culture, he thought he could understand why she was feeling to bitter and frustrated. Back in the College, they’d have the students read from the Books of Circles to glean whatever wisdom they could from all corners of the world. Indeed, he saw Shakti as being a tried and true Redguard for she reminded him of one of the tenants, [i]‘the worst action executed with vigor is superior to the best action executed timidly.’[/i] Still, he hoped that with a different quote, figuring she would at least appreciate the sentiment, he could bring her back around. He set his hand on Shakti’s shoulder with a firm yet gentle grip and, with a sympathetic smile, said softly, “Anger is a crack in the hull that sinks the ship. Discard your habits, yeah?” Calen was right. Shakti took a deep breath and unfurled her arms. No use being angry over something that couldn’t be helped. Deep breaths. In. And out. This was for Sora, she wouldn’t want Shakti so angry. Besides, it wasn’t all bad. Zhaib was there and she had learned earlier they had a bit in common. Noticing him smiling at her, the Redguard girl nudged him with her elbow. “I know my hair looks stupid, don’t remind me.” Zhaib glanced down at the girl, her discomfort was a mild source of amusement for him but he didn't show it. He looked away again, continuing forward. Without his weapons he felt naked. He had a dagger - but his favoured sword was not on his person. His eyes scanned every area they entered. Weapon or not, if it came to it, he'd tear a chunk from the wall just to add weight to a punch, he'd rip a door from it's hinges for a shield. He was resourceful like that, his lips once again curled, at the thought of it. With that, the bard let go of her shoulder and took a deep breath. With a kiss on his Amulet of Dibella, he tucked it back underneath his shirt and he began to concentrate on his spell as he did so many times before, focusing on the image of Sora in his mind’s eye. He felt an itch on one side of his body, as if he was being drawn to a magnet in a certain direction. It was like a compulsion that needed to be fulfilled, and moving so much as an inch in its direction gave him a peculiar sense of gratification. Looking back around, he said, “Okay, follow me.” Latro nodded, the group following after Calen. To Latro’s surprise, the walk with Calen guiding them was uneventful. The skeleton crew of guards in the Palace garrison didn’t bat an eye at the four of them. The halls were mostly empty save for a few patrols and the other servants milling about on their business. All the better, he didn’t want things to get bloody for them until the right moment. Calen’s clairvoyance took them to the stairs, situated next to the elevator. They stopped for a moment, wondering which to take. Latro looked to the others but didn’t wait for any suggestions, “We’ll take the lift,” he said, despite the fact his first experience on the Dwemer contraptions was… not grand, “If we’re caught, I wouldn’t want to fight an uphill battle.” The rest followed him as he stepped into the elevator, a circular lift that led up into a stone tube without a door, three paces length from the center in all directions. It wouldn’t be cramped, but they’d be in each other’s space. There was a lever off to the side with an indicator of how far to pull it back or forwards depending on what floor you wanted. The floors were labeled, thankfully, and right above the writing for the Ministry of Order’s offices, there were the suites. He pulled back on the lever, hoping Sora would still be in the room they’d stayed in while he was here with her. The ascent was just fast enough for Latro to feel it in his feet and he looked at the others assembled around him. “Thank you.” He said, finally, “Some of you don’t know or don’t care about me, but thank you for at least having some loyalty to Sora.” Suddenly, the elevator stopped just as the Ministry offices came into view through the slit at the top of the lift’s open face. Soon, the lift beheld them for all to see, four Redguard Ministry Agents were opposite them and the two parties held a lengthy and tense stare. Latro swallowed, eyeing the four of them. It was only a few moments, but it felt like an eternity as Latro’s hand inched back to Find his knife’s handle. Before he gripped his fingers around the thing, the Ministry agents simply nodded and stepped onto the lift. “Going up?” One said, smiling politely. Latro only nodded, Zhaib’s voice from behind his shoulder, “Yes.” The Ministry Agent nodded and their ascent started again. It was a moment of thick, pregnant silence that engulfed the eight people on the lift now. Latro looked to Calen, Shakti, and finally Zhaib. They were situated behind the Ministry Agents, their four backs turned on the disguised insurgents. Latro nodded at the agents, wondering if anybody else would follow him in his action or if they would advise against it. Calen, feeling uncomfortable, was looking straight at Latro as the Reachman’s eyes glanced between the other members of his group and, realizing what he was probably thinking, nervously shook his head. He worked his brain to try to come up with something to diffuse the tension in the lift and, if the Dwemer happened to be suspicious, shake that suspicion off of them. He started snapping his fingers at his side, prompting a soft punch in his back from Zhaib’s direction, but it didn’t quite stop him from snapping along and humming a jazzy tune to himself. “It’s a beautiful day,” he muttered his tune quietly to himself, “and I can’t stop myself from smiling… if I’m drinking, then I’m buying… and I know there’s no denying… it’s a beautiful day…” Shakti cleared her throat and asked in her best innocent-serving-girl voice, “Are you all from Gilane?” It was a stupid question. But it was a deliberately stupid question. Shakti hoped the Ministry agents would be so disarmed by the stupid question they would be beyond suspicion. “Wadiim is from Hegathe,” one of the four smiled, “Transferred here.” “It’s a nice city. Do you live here?” Wadiim turned to Shakti, “My father owns a fencing studio here. My mother is a bard, beautiful voice.” “Like this one, huh?” One of the four nudged Calen and smiled at the blonde man. “Fencing? I … would love to learn proper fencing someday!” Shakti caught herself, she was supposed to be a serving girl, not an Alik’r Warrior. She cleared her throat again. “Maybe I’ll stop by your father’s studio sometime.” She smiled and waved at Wadiim as she followed the other three. Thankfully, the elevator stopped as they reached the suites, the four of them stepping off first, Latro smiling and nodding only to have it fall away at the sight. The suites were almost crawling. Ministry agents hung about talking amongst each other, a few keeping watch and others on patrol while Latro noticed two Dwemer guardsmen on either side of the lift’s mouth. He swallowed, not audibly, he hoped. “Fuck.” He breathed. Without waiting, he stepped off the lift and was hoping the other three were following. He kept his head down as he walked, heart thumping in his head as he shuffled meekly past Ministry agents that would have no problem turning their guns and blades at them, even Wadiim and his friends would join in, no doubt. “Where the fuck do we go, dearest [i]lover?[/i]” he spat through gritted teeth, whispering and shaking with the excitement and terror of the moment. “Around the corner,” Calen uttered back, barely moving his lips as he spoke, “follow my lead.” Zhaib observed Raelynn’s group with narrow eyes. They were each strange - especially the crossdresser, he was making even the hulking Redguard feel unnerved with his to-and-fro of emotions. He still had no words for the situation, but he was more on his guard now, shoulders hunched forwards and he was on high alert. They were getting close. After a few turns down hallways and passing a few guard patrols Latro was finally starting to get his bearings back. He recognized some of the hallways, then Calen stopped in front of a door. He didn’t have to give any sort of tell that they were here, Latro knew. All of a sudden, the excitement was in him. Behind that door, he very much hoped, was Sora. Sparing a look at each of the faces in his team, he took a breath, rapping his knuckles on the door. “We’re here to clean the room. Please stand front and center with the door so we may see you.” [hr] Knocking came at Daro’Vasora’s door, and she let out an annoyed grunt; she should have still had twenty minutes of blissful peace before being carted off for her damned send off. Clean the room? This early? Her thoughts her muddied, that didn’t make much sense. They tended to do that when she was pulled out of the room for various reasons, not when she was around. She placed herself as requested, hands in the air to show she wasn’t concealing a bludgeon or something else equally spiteful. However, something about the muffled voice made her heart raise in a sense of familiarity, sparing her from launching a tirade of barbed comments at the voice. “Okay.” she called. The metallic rasping of a key entering its hole was heard just before the knob turned. What greeted Sora was a Redguard girl positively beaming at her. The look was expectant of something, as if she were waiting for something and she stepped inside, spreading her arms wide. The three accompanying her might have been a hint to who it was, but Latro spoke anyway, his voice smiling as well, “Hello, love.” It was a bit too much; the appearances, the disguises, the [I]voice[/I]. Daro’Vasora took a step back to get her bearings before her mind caught up, realizing what was in front of her. Her words came as a whisper, “...Latro?” she asked, taking in the painted face, the women’s clothing. None of it made any sense, but decorum failed her and she rushed over to him, throwing her arms around her lover, inhaling deeply to take in his scent and to try and prevent herself from having an embarrassing emotional outburst. “I… thought you were dead. They took you away, the report…” her words came staccato, unorganized. “How? How is this possible?” A sob caught in her throat as she buried her face in his neck. “I thought you had died. Again. Please stop doing that.” she said, trying to force a teasing tone but failing on account of the lump that was growing in her throat. Latro fell into the embrace and returned it, squeezing Sora tight and nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck, his voice was equally strained now that his lover before him made it known that this was all real and not some dream. He’d wished and hoped and nearly prayed for this moment to happen, “No promises.” He chuckled through his tears, “Kept you waiting, huh? I missed you so much, so godsdamned much.” He stepped back, holding her by her shoulders and looking into her eyes, his characteristic easy smile back on his lips once again. He let her go and his arm waved over the others theatrically, “Oh, and Calen and Shakti are here too,” he smiled, “And this strange man who keeps following us.” Zhaib nodded, nothing more. “He’s so nice.” Latro chuckled, smile still on his face before he brought himself to the balcony, “The others should be here sometime soon.” The Khajiit looked up over Latro’s shoulder and offered a tiny wave of greeting, still trying to come to terms with what was happening. Shakti and Calen were here, too? Latro turned back to Sora and his smile grew once more, “I like it. The whole thing, you look beautiful. Like that day in the White-Gold City, when you gave me the lute.” He looked down at the ground, just remembering he had other eyes besides Sora’s on him now, his face reddened slightly as he chuckled, “I have to admit, I’m not done with your song still.” “Excuse me, ma’am, please step away from the drag queen.” Calen inserted, maintaining his facade of servitude while sparing a cautionary glance toward Latro. “Did we ever discuss who it was that’d be cleaning the chamberpot? Because it definitely won’t be me.” “We draw straws.” Latro smiled, “Or you lot do. I’m here to supervise.” “Yeah, okay.” Calen remarked sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he took a few steps toward Sora. He greeted her with a gleaming smile and set his hands on his hips. “Miss Daro’Vasora! You never struck me as the princess stuck in the castle type. You enjoying the view, at least?” Not for the first time in Daro’Vasora’s relationship with Latro was she glad she was physically incapable of blushing, although she coyly covered her face. “Well, thank you. I didn’t pick it out myself, but I think I pull it off. I’d like to pick up my gear, if we have any clue where it is.” Turning to Calen, she smiled. “This place has indoor plumbing; it all goes down water-logged pipes. The future is now, I think. The room was adequate and the food was good, but the amenities were awful on account of there being a lock on the door and no way to pick it open.” she showed an arm that spanned the room. “This is pretty much all I’ve seen for the past week, unless they came for me for… interviews.” she hesitated with the last word, looking at her companions with concern. “You all should have left the city; I’m so glad to see you all, I feel like I don’t deserve you risking your lives for me, but we need to leave, [I]now[/I]. The governor has a new kind of centurion that’s going to purge the entire city. You’re all in terrible danger. I was going to warn you about it, in the speech in the next hour…” her voice trailed off, suddenly laughing in relief. “Oh, gods. I wasn’t expecting to survive past noon today. I was going to warn you all about what was coming.” she glanced at Latro, blinking. “What the fuck are you wearing?” “You know,” Calen began nervously, “I think I could make up, like, three or so really good jokes out of everything you just said, but I’m still stuck on the centurion death machines that the insurgency outside has [i]no idea[/i] about and are probably going to get totally fucked by.” Calen, now visibly anxious at this point, was combing his hand through his hair and finished, “Sora - [i]everyone[/i] came together for this. We’re supposed to wait for the cue outside and lead you out of here. [i]They have no idea what’s waiting for them.[/i] What are we gonna do?” That gave her pause. She crossed her arms over her waist, looking down for a moment before making eye contact with Calen. “Why did you all do this? None of you owe me anything, you could all… you should have left town, I’m not worth risking even one of you for.” she said, her voice pained. She stepped over to Latro, and took his hands in her own. “Thank you, all of you. I don’t know what to say, but we need to get out of here, and fast. What can I do to help?” Latro opened his mouth to speak, but when nothing came out he closed it again. He looked everyone in the room over before settling on Calen, “Fuck.” Latro breathed, turning to Sora, “[i]Fuck.[/i] Sora is right, we need to leave, tell the others. We can’t let them get into the building and have us all trapped, but there’s a damned army outside of that door.” “Sora, you’re a Dwemer expert, right?” Calen asked. His eyes were darting around side to side as he tried to come up with some kind of plan, taking deep and measured breaths to keep himself from panicking. “Like Jude and Ani? Can you, I don’t know, stop or shut down or whatever the thing they’re hiding?” She gripped her jaw between a pair of fingers and her thumb before running the same hand down her face. “Me being an expert kind of went out the window when the Dwemer hopped out of my history tomes and kicked us all in the teeth.” she admitted, her mind racing over the same problem that had occupied her for several days now. “Honestly? No. The Governor called them Assassin Centurions. They’re about half the size of a regular one but they can sprint and climb walls and have all the lovely modern armaments. I was supposed to give a speech calling for unity in exchange for you not being targeted by these things, but I couldn’t. I think they’re autonomous, I’ve seen them in action; I don’t think there’s anything like a control center for them, and it sounds like they’re all designed and programmed individually.” she shuddered, despite the heat. “I’m terrified of what they can do when they are released.” She looked at the group, her expression resolute. “But that doesn't mean we're without hope. I think I know how to end this invasion once and for all.” Shakti had immediately ripped the hair tie off and sighed with relief as she ruffled her hair into its normal messy state. “I’m so glad to see you safe Sora the Khajiit. By the way, what is a Centurion?” The Redguard girl asked innocently enough. Everyone else seemed to know what they are. “Likewise, I didn’t think I’d see any of you again.” The Khajiit smiled at her young friend before her expression shifted. “Centurions are Dwemer constructs that are a bit more than the height of two Altmer, humanoid in shape, and extremely dangerous. They’re often used as guardians of key installations; their strength is unmatched, but they’re fairly slow and cumbersome. Something that’s not the smartest to fight with a sword, I’m afraid.” “Right, so, let’s get back on track.” Calen interjected. “I’m still waiting on this idea of yours that’ll save everyone’s lives.” Just as Sora drew in a breath to speak more knocking came from the door. The five of them visibly tensed at the noise before Latro looked at Sora to give an answer. “Miss Daro’Vasora, your meal has arrived.” A deep male voice said, “Please stand front and center with the door so we may see you.” “Give me a moment, please; using the privy!” She called out, gritting her teeth in embarrassment at her improvisational skills. She quickly turned to the others, whispering in an urgent hiss, “Hide, out of sight!” “Where!?” Shakti flung back in a hushed voice, her eyes holding unusual panic within them. They darted around the room looking for a hiding spot. She felt naked without her sword and had next to no experience with hiding. It all added up to a confused and panicky Redguard who was more at home in the blazing desert than a palace. In response, Calen, now wide-eyed in panic, threw a hand over his mouth and began concentrating on a spell. Nothing seemed to happen, but as he dashed off to the side to grab Shakti, his footfalls made no sound against the floor. Like a ghost gliding over the ground, he silent reached Shakti grabbed her hand before sliding behind a room divider, bringing the Redguard girl with him. As she slid down beside him, he pulled Shakti close to his person and threw his spare hand over her mouth as well. This reminded him too much of all the times he and some paramour of his were hiding from the latter’s parents and, as he got older, their spouses. Latro simply took a few steps towards the door and pressed himself against the wall. He nodded to Sora and when she called for the man to come in, the door exploded open with such violence it took everything for Latro not to make a sound as it swung over and the knob dig into his fruits. The guard’s heavy and quick footsteps brought him into Latro’s view. A thick-built Redguard holding a pistol to Sora’s face. Latro swallowed, “Someone’s in here with you, eh?” The sound of the door closing made the man whip around to look at it. “Now you’re in here with me.” Latro grabbed the barrel of the pistol and yanked it up hard, wrapping a hand around the man’s mouth as the pop of his finger breaking in the trigger guard was muffled by his palm. A stone-skin hand palmed him in the face hard enough to break his nose up into his face and he dropped, “Well, somebody’s going to miss him.” It was then that a loud explosion followed by a staccato of rifle fire made Latro’s eyebrows raise, “That must be the others.” It had begun. [hr] (Distraction team, East side, sewers: Mazrah, Jaraleet, Alim, Meg) For all the apparent civilization of Gilane, Mazrah had been deeply surprised to find that a literal river of shit flowed through the ground, right beneath everybody’s feet. The sewers were spacious enough for her to walk nearly upright and a raised platform on the right side of the tunnel allowed the party to make their way through without having to wade through the excrement and bodily fluids that gently flowed away, presumably towards the ocean. They were walking upstream, towards the source, and the Orsimer had seen fit to take point, map in hand. She was a huntress and a naturally gifted tracker and the Ornim of Orsinium, for all their other savagery, were advanced enough to make use of cartography to map the mountains and valleys that made up their homeland. “So the escape tunnel should be… this way,” she said, keeping her voice down, as they came upon a crossroads in the sewers. They were searching for the escape tunnel that the Caliph -- whoever that may have been -- had supposedly built in the palace, just in case. According to this map, anyway. Mazrah had decided to ignore Nanine’s advice after all and had ditched her robes just before they entered the sewers, leaving her dressed in her usual minimalistic furs and leathers, just enough to provide the bare minimum of modesty. Her spear, bow and arrows were fastened across her back and she had applied white war-paint on her face, turning the vaguely demonic shape suggested by her tattoos into a full-blown Daedric skull. She was ready to kill and she looked the part. Unlike Mazrah, Meg had kept herself covered up. She had her usual clothes on, a faded grey tunic and dark trousers, but above it there was the cloak she had worn the night she had gone out to search for Daro'Vasora with Jaraleet. The bloodstains had been hard to wash from the thick cloak, but she had managed to clean out most of it. Her bow and arrows were secured on her back and at her belt was her sword, ready to be used in case it was demanded of her. Truthfully she was restless, but Meg kept herself in check. This was no longer scouting or planning, this was [i]it[/i], the mission to save Sora, and they could [i]not[/i] screw it up. She looked up ahead at Mazrah and quietly hurried her pace, joining the map wielding orsimer before looking both ways. Her nose wrinkled at the odour of the filth, vaguely reminding her of Riften's Plankside, but she pushed that olfactory memory to the side. Rising up on her tiptoes, she attempted to peek at the map. "Y'think?" It was hard to tell which way either of the paths could lead. Her lips pursed; she was no map expert, that was for sure, but- “If the map says that’s the way to go, then it’d be best for us to follow the directions on it. If we try to guess our own route the only thing we will accomplish is that we’ll get lost in the sewers.” Jaraleet replied, his voice low as well, to Meg’s question. He had patched up the damage to his armor as best he could for this mission but it was rather clear that he’d have to replace it in the nearby future. Along with his armor, he wore the same black cloak that had accompanied him in all the missions that he had undergone in Gilane, the hole left by the bullet having been patched a while ago. “Come, it’d be best if we continue moving on. There’s no time to waste, the others are waiting for us.” The Argonian said, taking point in front of Mazrah and making his way into the tunnel that the Orsimer huntress had pointed out as the way to go. Mazrah narrowed her eyes when it looked like Meg was about to question her skills in reading the map and opened her mouth to say something sassy when Jaraleet interrupted them both. She watched the Argonian go with a pout as he took point instead of her and she sighed, glancing sidelong at Meg. She remembered that the girl was sweet and probably meant nothing by wanting to see for herself. “Here, take a look,” Mazrah mumbled and handed the map to Meg, pointing at where they were (according to her, anyway) before following Jaraleet. “Hey, shadow-scales, shouldn’t the [i]best[/i] warrior be in front?” she teased as she tried to catch up to him. “Not really.” The Argonian replied with a shrug. “What matters most in these situations is who can get rid of the enemy the quickest. And I’d wager it’s easier to do that with a dagger than with a spear like the one you favor.” The assassin said, patting the scabbard in which his dagger rested. “We aren’t here to fight the Dwemer head on, but to strike at them for the shadows and to give an opening to those waiting outside the palace.” Meg had gulped slightly at being given the map- she really didn't trust herself with it and had simply been curious; she hoped Mazrah hadn't taken offense or anything of the sort. Making sure not to fumble with it and accidentally drop it on the ground or worse, she hurried after Maz and Jaraleet, catching up just in time to hear their little conversation. For her part she could see more advantage in using a bow, but she kept mum, figuring it best to let the professionals talk. She was a little grave robber after all, not a warrior or someone skilled in assassination. “The spear is for fighting, silly lizard,” Mazrah said and laughed under her breath. “The bow is for hunting. I’m not a stranger to this, you know. When men ranged too close to Orsinium, we would stalk them from the trees and the shadows of the valleys and shoot them down like deer. Such soft bags of meat…” She looked behind her at Meg and winked. “And you should know I’m not stranger to this either Mazrah. But there is no point to this little banter of us, is there? We shall see what both of us are made of before the day is over, I’m sure of that.” The Argonian replied to the Orsimer huntress, stopping when they came upon the crossing. Mazrah felt like they were close. “Where to, Meg?” Meg blinked before looking down at the map, quickly following the path they had taken with her finger. If she was reading it correctly, they were to take the path to the right. However, she didn't want to accidentally lead them astray. "This way I think," she replied, tapping at the map with her finger. "Uhm, but maybe y’all should check the map just in case..." He turned to look back when he heard Meg saying that either he or Mazrah should take a look at the map and made his way towards where the Nord woman was standing. “Seems like the right path is the correct one.” He said after a moment of looking at the map, smiling at Meg. “You needn’t doubt yourself so much, you know that right?” He told her softly. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by him the way that Meg seemed to have been doubting herself as of late, but this was no place for them to sit down and talk about it. He just hoped that his words would help the Nord woman, even if only just a little bit. “Come, we should get moving. Time is of the essence if our mission is to succeed.” The Argonian said after a moment, turning back to face the right tunnel, and began walking once more. “Is he always like that?” Mazrah asked Meg quietly after the Argonian had forged on ahead once again, his professionalism staunch and unwavering. She hadn’t heard the encouraging words that Jaraleet had spoken. “Or does he ever, you know… enjoy himself?” Meg let herself grin as she started forward once more. "T'be honest, I've only been on one mission with him," she replied quietly. "So I dunno... he was straigh' forward then, like now... but..." She looked the slightest bit embarrassed, the slightest hint of red showing on her cheeks. "He can be really nice." Mazrah’s eyes flitted between Meg and Jaraleet’s back in front of them and she broke out into a wide grin. “He just said something nice to you, didn’t he?” she whispered and playfully elbowed Meg in the shoulder. “I bet he has a soft spot for you. That is [i]adorable.”[/i] The Orsimer enjoyed the simple, mundane delight of young love -- or something like it -- before all hell was undoubtedly going to break loose. She thought of Maj, waiting for them by the gate, and the days they had spent together. “Come on,” she added and increased her pace. “Let’s catch up with him so we can make sure that nothing bad happens to him.” Mischief and endearment sparkled in her eyes in equal measure. “What are you two whispering on about?” Jaraleet said, his voice echoing farther from the tunnel. “We don’t have time to stand around gossiping like old wives. Pick up the pace, time’s wasting.” Meg jerked a little- he didn't hear, did he? She didn't think he did... [i]Stop thinkin' stupid things![/i] she mentally yelled at herself before picking up the pace, hoping against hope that the hot feeling on her face wasn't actually showing in red. They had way more important things to think about than her fancying somebody! Amused, Mazrah followed on Meg’s heels but dropped the topic. Jaraleet was right, of course. They were about to exit the sewers and infiltrate the palace of the most dangerous Deep Elf in all of Gilane. It was time to get serious. “I think we’re coming up on the escape tunnel now,” Mazrah hissed loud enough for Meg and Jaraleet to hear. “Look for a hatch above your heads, or something like that.” Jaraleet turned his head to look upwards upon Mazrah’s words, his eyes soon locating the hatch that the huntress had spoken off. “I’ve found it.” The Argonian said, motioning with his hand to the location of the entrance to the palace. He waited for the Nord and Orsimer to get close to him before speaking again, preferring to keep his voice low just in case. “This is it, we come up through the hatch and then stick to the shadows. I’d prefer if we could avoid any open confrontation before we rendezvous with the other team.” Jaraleet said quietly, his voice serious. “If we must get rid of a guard, make sure to make as little noise as possible and to strike from the shadows. It goes without saying that we should hide the corpses as well. Any few extra seconds we can buy for ourselves will be crucial.” [i]Strike from the shadows, eh?[/i] Meg smiled beneath her hood, feeling the weight of her bow and her quiver on her back. It was a very good thing she had brought it along with her- what could be easier than striking down a person from a long distance? She nodded her head to show she understood the situation. "Righ- I'm ready." She looked up and then blinked. "Er... one've you's gonna have t'go up first." The hatch was too high for her to go up by herself. “I’ll go up first, make sure that there aren’t any guards nearby and then pull you up Meg.” Jaraleet said as he moved the hatch that was closing the tunnel. Without waiting for a reply from either women, the Argonian assassin made his way up the tunnel and emerged into the middle of a small patch of trees. Jaraleet waited for a moment and, when he didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary, allowed himself a brief smile before he returned to his usual professional attitude and made his way back down halfway, reaching down with one of his hands towards Meg. “Up you go, there seems to be no one patrolling the area the tunnel opens up to but, well, that could change in any moment.” Meg wasted no time in grabbing on to the Argonian's hand and letting herself be pulled up easily enough. Once she was on solid ground, she made a quick perusal of her surroundings, noting the trees and marking them as potential hiding spots just in case there was anyone unexpected making an appearance. Even as she did, she took her bow in hand, wanting to be armed just in case. Mazrah was tall enough to pull herself up and out of the hatch and looked around in annoyed bewilderment. “This isn’t an escape tunnel,” she hissed, stating the obvious, disbelief in her voice. “Why the fuck are we outside? Are we in the right place?” She had been sure she had read the map correctly and it was disorienting and, frankly, somewhat embarrassing that she had been wrong. The Orsimer grumbled to herself but followed Meg’s example and armed herself with her huge, iron-enforced bow, nocking an arrow as she did. She pushed her frustrations to the side and looked around properly, taking in the sight of the palace walls some distance away from them before she turned and saw the palace itself towering above them, blotting out the sunlight that otherwise would have filtered through the trees. “Okay, we [i]are[/i] in the right place,” she said, her voice low. “Just… not entirely what I expected. Now we have to find our way to the western side of the palace. I say we stick to the shadows of the building itself. If there are any Dwemer patrolling the grounds, we take them down with our bows, Meg. Sound good?” "Aye," Meg replied, barely nodding as she kept her eyes out for the guard. Flashbacks to the night she attempted to scout out this place were rife in her mind, despite trying not to think of them. Gritting her teeth, she attempted to reassure herself as she quietly slipped away from the shelter of the trees for the palace walls instead. The sewers, while stinky, had been much more reassuring than this. Deciding not to wait, she plucked an arrow from her quiver as well- better safe than sorry. The Orsimer swiftly joined her. That was when she heard noise in the distance. “That must be the others,” she whispered. It sounded like fighting and she heard what she thought was magic. The distraction had begun; it was time for them to make their way to the courtyard. The two archers took point and crept forward, keeping low but moving as fast as they could, their eyes scanning the grounds for any sign of movement. Mazrah stopped dead in her tracks and placed a hand on Meg when she heard yelling and footsteps nearby, but the sound receded away from them. Guards abandoning their patrol to head to the gates, she figured. However, a lone Dwemer came into view as they rounded another part of the palace and Mazrah looked sidelong at Meg before raising her bow and drawing the string back, expecting the Nord woman to follow her example. Two arrows were better than one. “Three, two, one…” she breathed and let go. Meg let her arrow fly at the same time as Maz's, following her countdown cue and mouthing along under her breath. Both arrows flew true, catching the dwemer guard by surprise. From the way he toppled to the ground without much resistance, it was safe to assume the dwemer was not going to pose a problem. "That takes care o' that," Meg whispered, looking to Mazrah and Jaraleet. If they were lucky, any other dwemer that came their way would be just as easy to take down. “We should get a move on. It’s only a matter of time before someone discovers the body.” Jaraleet said, looking to Meg and Mazrah. “You two take care of anyone who is far away and I’ll take care of whoever has the misfortune to cross our path directly.” The Argonian said, turning to look at the corpse of the Dwemer guard. “With any luck we won’t encounter any more guards. I’d prefer if we could do this without raising too much of a fuss, for the moment at least.” He said before beginning to make his way further into the castle. [hr] (Distraction team, West side: Judena, Anifaire, Nanine, Maj, Aries) An old storehouse just outside the walls of the palace made for a decent hiding hole for many of the company’s mages and a collection of local insurgents to assail the front gates with. Truthfully it was a series of buildings, the largest only as big as a small tavern without lodging and it’s wine-cellar beneath the ground. It was in that cellar where Aries had opted to make her base of operations in, as it provided her with more than one exit should their plans be discovered and their forces routed. While in the past it might have been a local tavern, it was likely faced with too much competition from the likes of Three Crowns and the Haunted Tides Inn. It wouldn’t have surprised her if the owner was one of the insurgents killed or executed by Dwemer peacekeeping forces. There were many buildings lately that had fell vacant due to such tragedies. She was leaned over what must have been an old butchering table, but whatever covered it previously was thrown out and replaced with maps, notes, and dossiers. The map was by far the largest sheet of paper on the table, and Aries had it covered with whatever she could use to represent allies and enemies -- mostly old shot-glasses, the bottom of had X’s and O’s painted onto them with ink. Her eyes were trained intently on each piece, her hand gliding along the map as she thought carefully about the movements of insurgent troops while anticipating the positioning and movements of the enemy. Irranhu cell had just recently launched their attack on the weapons depot, so she was carefully pushing some shot-glasses toward that direction. They just had to time their assault on the palace correctly to providing an opening for the East team coming from the sewer so that they could allow everyone through the perimeter. Aries looked back toward the dossiers; she already collected information on her new comrades capabilities. It would seem there were quite a few able mages in their midst to help combat the Dwemer’s firearms. However, two of them were Alteration mages, and probably weren’t going to be effective in a large scale battle. One used to be an imperial battlemage and were an expert in destruction and conjuration -- which was useful. If the dwemer targeted a conjured creature, it was that many dwemer not focusing their fire on the insurgents. Lastly, but certainly not least, was a local redguard woman who was well-practiced in illusion and conjuration. The same about Nanine’s conjuration could be said for Maj, but the latter’s illusion magic could definitely create mayhem along with herself in the Dwemer’s ranks with well placed frenzy spells. Aries, deep in her thoughts, winced at the thought of getting too involved. She had no qualms with getting her hands dirty, but she didn’t want to reveal her entire hand just yet and she didn’t want the enemy noticing her among the rest of the riff-raff and asking questions about her… but she’d rather risk that over failing to breach the palace anyways. Not to mention how little she knew about the people she was working with -- she knew just enough to know what they were capable of, but as far as their personalities or what their motivations were, she was in the dark. Half the purpose of the coming briefing was to see them all interact with each other in the same room and study their habits. She didn’t want to march into the fire with a barrel of oil at her back, so to speak. Nanine walked into what was serving as the center of operations, dressed in the same leather armor and dark robes she had worn during the raid on the prisoner caravan. Plate armor would slow her down too much during this assault, and she needed to be as quick as possible. She briefly glanced over the map and the movements before focusing back on the woman who had introduced herself as Janelle. Nanine didn’t trust her. Their very first meeting she had very suddenly introduced herself, offered her aid, and lied about her name. It was convenient, considering that they needed the manpower she offered, and more than a little suspicious. Plus, she knew that ‘Janelle’ was a Breton noble. And Breton nobles [i]always[/i] had an ulterior motive. There would be a time to address the lie, but that would be later. Right now, she needed to make sure everyone was on the same page. “So, the plan is for all of us to draw the attention of the Dwemer and defend as best we can against their counter attack until the group in the East, Mazrah, Meg, and Jaraleet, can open the servant’s entrance. Then Judena, Anifaire, Maj, and I make a mad dash into the opened entrance, rendezvous with the rescue team, and escape the Palace as quickly as possible. Are you and your men going to be following us into the Palace, or do you have other plans with them?” “They’re not actually my men.” Aries replied simply, still focused on the board. She carefully slid one final piece into place by the weapons depot. She continued, “They’re free-willed insurgents, like you; but unlike you, Gilane is their home, so they care enough about winning to not make any hasty decisions.” Her eyes flitted up to glance at the battlemage, deciphering the expression on her face and the tension in her voice as mistrust and shrugged it off. Hopefully that bit of openness on her part should be enough, for now, to diffuse that annoying sense of animosity. Now to properly address her question -- she pointed her finger towards the palace that was represented on her map. “The plan isn’t ideal, but it should do for now.” Aries said. “In consideration of how it should be executed, we should plan some finer details. How should we initiate the engagement? I don’t want to bring undue attention to the courtyard and there’s no point in wasting lives and resources by trading volleys in skirmishes we’ll invariably lose. Also considering the machinations at their disposal and the limitations of our magicka, the cards are stacked against us.” Judena joined alongside Nanine, holding her spear - relatively ready to fight and cause significant trouble. Dressed in her mage robes, having no interest in exchanging what she was comfortable in. Golden eyes scanned the map, her wide red scaled head cutting a distinct profile with symmetrical little horns poking at the sides of her jaw. Her nerves ramped up every time she would read or be reminded of the importance of the night, their combined efforts to rescue Daro’Vasora. She paid extra attention, Anifaire was at her side acting as her spotter and Judena acted as her support in magicka. Jude observed the map, her hand slid across the paper stopping at the heart of the palace. “Dwemer technology and their alloys do not stand much chance against a well placed transmutation spell, gravity, and simply destroying the soul gem housing.” She commented gesturing to the center of her forehead. “The power is nestled behind well armoured heads, but it is quite often located in their heads, necks and sternums.” She drew around her chest, “A localized place.” “I truly hope we can keep the mechanized defenses at a healthy distance, weakening them for strikes by the other…” She looked away from the map, “Insurgents.” Hesitant to call herself as much. Clicking her nails anxiously she turned to Anifare, “I hope it is only their machines we need to destroy tonight.” Anifaire paled, the thought not having occurred to her. “As do I.” Maj, the aforementioned mage wasn’t far from the table leaning in a chair at an angle against the wall. “If I’ve heard right, the fuckers deserve their numbers to be thinned.” She said, plainly. Judena frowned, “They are living, breathing artifacts. Flawed as any one of us, enemies only because they hold one of our own.” She replied. “I’m rightfully pissed they sunk the ship I called home and you’re concerned for their lives after they sacked the Imperial City. I ain’t some blood thirsty scourge but there’s no forgiving that.” Maj commented her fingers laced behind her head, looking the image of relaxed. Raids were her specialty, causing chaos and knocking heads around. Easily the most comfortable she felt since being stuck on shore. Her eyes shifted to the pair of bretons with sticks up their arses, comparable to the Altmer’s rigid posture. They reeked of the law. That ultimately meant they’d be ordering her and the others around first chance they got. She pointed to Janelle, “You gonna join us or just stand at the sidelines barking orders?” “Don’t displace your anger, dear.” Aries sighed matter-of-factly, giving Maj a sideways glance. Though the following words were ones of praise, and her voice practically motherly, a keen intuition would correctly translate her language as condescending. “I understand that you’re a talented illusion mage, so in actuality, we intend to have you working with me while we create discord among their ranks. A few well-placed frenzying spells should take some of the heat off of us while our forces breach the perimeter. The conjured daedra can provide needed distractions with long-ranged spells.” Aries divided her attention from Maj to share with Judena and Nanine. “Judena, I respect yours and… Anifaire, correct? Yours and Anifaire’s expertise on the Deep Elves, and I’ve no doubt that it will be useful to us in time… but I am of the same mind as Maj. They had no such reservations when destroying the Empire or holding Hammerfell captive. If they wish to revisit Tamriel with fire and ruin, then we’ll show them how the art of war has changed over the eras. I will not allow myself to be ground beneath the heel of a museum piece.” Maj nodded along, “Nice as it sounds, lassie, I’ll be moving around. Not one to sit still.” The chair legs came back to the ground and she stood up. “I am quite talented thank you for noticing. Big imagination and bigger execution of ideas, I’ll keep ‘em off us.” She said, turning her attention to Aries, “So is that a yes or no? If you’ll be at anyone’s side it’ll be in the thick of it.” Maj grinned brightly and Aries met it with an amused smirk, quickly pegging her as the arrogant or over-confidant type. It was dangerous, she thought, but easily manipulated. “Oh, but of course darling,” she said, “I’ve no intention of leaving you all alone -- but that being said, a talent such as yours is too valuable to risk being left on the front lines. Why, what if you were struck by a stray bullet? What would we do then without our expert illusionist?” Maj squinted at that, turning a lip at the ‘dears’ and ‘darlings’, “Why I’m interested in you being apart of the raid is because it’ll be a group effort, no one person is responsible. We’ll move as a force of nature, a battering ram. I don’t care much for a leader that isn’t going to pull their own weight, right?” Maj turned to the others, making what she felt was a good point. A reason she respected and missed the Captain of the [i]Scarlet Harpy[/i], Captain Sette fought alongside her crew. She turned to Aries, “Right?” “I tire of making the same promise.” Aries replied, meeting Maj’s challenge with a bored gaze. “You’ll see.” “Sure.” Maj replied, shrugging - still sporting her smile, not phased. “I guess we’ll have to see. So aim for their heads?” “More like aim for the crystal. It’s not necessarily in their heads.” Nanine mentioned idly, looking at the map. “We can’t stray too far away from the servant’s entrance, since we don’t know when during our distraction the East team is going to be able to open the gate. We can’t get in a prolonged engagement, since we lack the manpower to really threaten a fortress like that. Ranged harassment with constant movement to minimize risk might be best. Us five, maybe a few archers, hitting the guards from hidden positions and then moving to a new location. We each do what we’re best at, whether it be direct damage, manipulation of the senses to create chaos and confusion, or eliminating their advantages by manipulating reality.” She looked up from the map at the group. “Thoughts or other suggestions?” Aries had more than just a few thoughts, but first held her tongue and glanced toward the others instead to allow them an opportunity for input, which she could then adjust accordingly as a final word, but as an addendum to Nanine’s question, she added a warning, “Don’t waste all of your magicka before the battle even begins. Creating the distraction is only stage one.” “Got plenty to spare don’t worry your pretty little head much, we ain’t dumb.” Maj commented, “I don’t know you and you don’t know me, but have a little faith. You don’t get to be half as talented without being good at what you do and surviving a few nasty scraps.” Turning to Nanine, answering her question, “I like building a scene. I can snap out frenzy spells that trick the targets into thinking their heartbeat has risen, that they’re seeing crazy shit, adrenaline really helps with that. Or red around their vision - you name it sure,” she said, “[i]But-[/i],” Maj pulled out a wrinkly scroll from within her shirt laying over the map a quickly sketched scene of her idea, the small details and fairly accurate depiction of the palace sat before them. “I want to build an army behind us, volleys of arrows, torches lighting down the alleyways.” She became more energetic as she continued explaining her idea, “But! But! Such an elaborate image would be fucking hard to maintain for everyone to see, I’m going to cast it on a few then watch ‘em try to convince everyone around them of what they see.” She patted her sketch, “I was up all night and had the brilliant idea.” How brilliant it was - was strictly a subjective point by the excited mage. Judena’s frown deepened at their exasperation, she shared a look with Anifaire at ‘alteration spells.’ It really was a shame how little anyone knew of what they were capable of. The rise in tension was undoubtedly awkward, the small conjurer’s idea was plainly bad. “I do not believe we will be wasting our energy, perhaps to remedy our mental stamina we can simply stagger ourselves. Deploying offensive long range first, then focusing on the Dwemeri long range riflemen next. Protecting not only ourselves but the other insurgents as they harass.” She inverted her frown to an appreciative smile toward Aries, “I believe we are in agreement.” Nanine glanced at the map, briefly appreciating the artistry that went into it, before shaking her head. The idea was certainly inspired, but ultimately unhelpful. Judena gently noted to Maj, “Perhaps keeping it simple for this sole excursion would be best, there will be opportunities for your… idea soon enough yes?” [i]‘Thank you’[/i] Aries quietly mouthed, glancing toward Judena from the corner of her eyes. She took a deep, calming breath before she began drawing on the map the positions of the mages among the buildings and alleyways of central Gilane. Working off of what the others had given her, though begrudgingly, was enough to give them a basic strategy to work around. In this case, it would be more valuable than trying to stick to an overly detailed plan since so many people in Samara cell were so… individualistic, and in case anything went wrong, it wouldn’t undo the entire tapestry. “Unfortunately, we’re in Redguard lands, who have a long history of being a warrior culture.” She said. She looked at Maj, anticipating her offense. “By that, I mean the palace doubles as a stronghold, so it’s easily defensible. Between the nearest building and the wall is wide open sand, so trying to stay close to the entrance would leave us exposed to gunfire, nevermind reveal our intention of trying to access the servant’s entrance. Now, to reiterate...” Aries then pointed towards the map, tracing her finger up a fraction of the wall, “If Maj is positioned a quarter length along the wall from one side, and I quarter length along the other, that would give us the most coverage for our illusion magic. Her and Nanine, who can be positioned… here, closer to the center, their conjuration can direct their some of their fire away from us. Assuming they try to send troops out to meet us, Nanine and I or some of the hidden insurgents can take them out. We can send potshots their way to keep the pressure on, but not so much as to clue them in to the real size of our forces. We can repeat this process until we’re given our cue to advance. It’ll be a battle of attrition until that entrance is opened.” Aries head turned to face Judena and Anifaire, to whom she gave a sympathetic smile, breaking the tense demeanor she has thus far shown them. “To be honest, I do not know much about alteration magic. Some of the staple spells, perhaps, but accepting reality as a falsehood was… a lesson that did not sit well with me. Whatever you can do, I’m sure, would be greatly appreciated.” The break in demeanor startled Anifaire, though she looked to Judena as she had done thus far in their meeting instead of speaking, it comforted some of the nerves she felt over the group’s terse conversation. Judena warmed to her comment smiling with a content squint, Aries admitting to knowing only a little - presenting an opportunity to educate when they had time. “After today you are welcome to join us in an lesson, Anifaire and I have been working on practicing but there is opportunity to learn more, Jill.” Maj crossed her arms, following along with a huff relenting when seeing the combined exasperation of the others at her idea. Gently rolling up the scroll to stuff away back into her shirt, “Alright, keep it simple.” She said, pausing at ‘Jill’ she shot a look at Judena - Maz had warned her of the elder argonian stressing the need for patience, but to see it happen in person was jarring. Her eyes lingered on Jude before glancing back to Aries, “You ain’t wrong about Redguard culture, learn a great deal about it when you personally clash with it.” Maj commented with a somewhat bitter note, adjusting her gloves with a frown. “I’ve actually studied Redguard culture quite extensively.” Aries commented, careful to not say too much. “Let’s say I’ve done a lot of business in Hammerfell for a few years. Perhaps one day I can tell you more about it.” “Aye, I’m sure you’ve got some interesting stories to tell.” Maj said her frown evaporating refocusing on the map. “We should head out.” “Agreed. We know our roles, and the East team is already on their way. The earlier we start, the better.” Nanine nodded in agreement with Maj, straightening up from her inspection. She was in a central position to respond quickly if things went awry, and that was the best she could make of the situation. Nervous to depart, Anifaire hovered near Judena, picking at her clothes and hair to keep her hands from shaking. She tried to study the map but wasn’t sure how she would be able to use the knowledge in the moment. She wished she had a bit of food to try settling her stomach, but thought she might throw it up instead if she tried. Nanine paused on her way out, looking at Anifaire. The poor girl looked like she was about to faint from nervousness. She’d have to keep an eye on the High Elf, make sure she didn’t get into any trouble. Nanine offered a reassuring smile. “Anifaire, you’re gonna be okay. Stick close to Judena and remind her of what you’re both doing if necessary, keep low, remember what you’ve learned over the past few days, watch your mana levels, and you’ll be just fine. Aries, myself, and whatever conjurations Maj and I release will have most of the attention of the guards, so just take your time and aim your spells. If you get into trouble, we’ll be near to help you. Just do your best Anifaire. We’re neither expecting nor wanting heroics from anyone. If all else fails, keep as calm as you can and you’ll be alright. I promise.” Anifaire smiled. While she wasn’t very reassured, she was grateful for the effort, but felt guilty needing it. She worried she would be a hindrance to the group. Aries watched quietly from her position as Nanine attempted to assuage Anifaire’s nerves. She did not scowl or smile, but remained the neutral observer as she studied their interaction. [i]‘Too soft.’[/i] She thought. [i]‘Both of them.’[/i] The Altmer had likely never been a part of something larger than herself all her life, she was far too timid and was likely going to be a liability. Nanine, on the other hand, was trying far too hard to be something she isn’t. The plan they had developed was sub-par and she was too accommodating by coddling Anifaire in the middle of an operation, so she doubted the woman has ever been an Imperial officer. As for the other two, Judena had the best nature of them, but she can’t even remember a name and was reluctant to kill a dwarf. Maj was the least likely to stick to a plan. Aries suddenly found herself more appreciative of Sevari’s competence… even if his loyalty was still in question. “Let’s get into position.” She declared, finally stepping away from the table. Her eyes suddenly went cold as she faced the grim reality awaiting her. They had cooked up a recipe for disaster, but it was far too late to turn back now. With each step she took up the staircase, her heart pounded against the inside of her chest. It wasn’t out of fear, though. It was anticipation. While she resolved herself earlier to not make herself known to the Dwemer, the thought of finally releasing all of her rage against the would-be conquerors was enticing.