[center]Collab with [@Chrononaut] [@A Man is No One] [@Cazzer1604] and [@Parzivol][/center]

Havfyg returned moments after bringing Enathrae from his cell and into relative freedom. He said, "Don't worry. I haven't forgotten any of you." He looked at Caro, frowning at his desiccated form. He looked at Caros ring finger, which lacked said ring, "You asked earlier if it was cursed. That depends on whether or not you consider working for your Emperor a curse." His eyes narrowed into a glare, "I will say, the effects if you disobey me aren't...pleasant. The alternative is being left in your cell until so long in the future that this prison is abandoned and forgotten, with you inside of it. I'd consider this, very carefully."

There was no doubt in the pile of linens as it shifted. It, despite being a little pile of enchanted rags, did nothing without confidence. So that when it reached its hands back and shattered its own foot bones it did so with a raspy laughter. Its foot freed itself, and a brief coursing restorative display found the bounds readied to take on weight once again. The sand-blasted husk stood, and the bottoms of its feet sloughed off against the grains beneath. A natural decay not rescued with ease by a magic.

Its right hand held the ring. Its left hand was beginning to pull apart the souls binding the enchanted linens. Those more finely aware saw the raw magicka peel away like the skin of a coconut in an imgakin's hands. 

A gnarled, disgusting set of hands stuck through the bars. The left gestured and focused, the right held the ring flat on its palm. There was clearly a display of power being made here. The Synod's preparations to bind the creature were still weak in comparison to the raw magical knowledge held by the twisted thing. He had studied beneath them, though, so perhaps that was unsurprising.

"My Lord, I am an Imperial by blood, and Imperial of spirit. Your blood is similarly draconian, as is your spirit. That is to say ancient, My Lord."

Havfyg harrumphed, though didn't appear to catch the jab at his draconian policies, and the much subtler jab that he was a dragon; inhuman.

The husk grinned as he peeled away the last soul in the enchantment. He began now to unwrite the Daedric script over his face with slow, measured gestures.

"And as Imperial by blood, and Imperial by spirit. As we established I am. It is my duty to be sworn to my Emperor."

He strode back from the bars, then pulled the veil over his head down. The shroud burnt up against the ground in a golden display as the unwritten rune began to burst and crackle. The sneering face of the Lich returned its attention to the bars.

"So I simply ask why it is that I must wear this ring." He constructed a lie, testing the waters. "Knowing that the Penitus Oculatus crafted it for you, I'm curious as to its purpose. Do you seek to enslave me? Enthrall me? When I am blooded already to my people of Chorrol?"

Havfyg sighed. He looked at the ring in Caros palm, then at Caro. [i]Why must my subjects make things so difficult?[/i] he thought, just before he shouted, "Tid, Klo, Uul!" And, so fast Caro almost didn't catch it, "Wuld Nah Kest!"

The cell door slammed open, falling off its rusty hinges from the force of an Havfyg slamming into it. Moments before metal shrieked and the door itself slammed with a metallic clang to the floor, Caro found his arm being bent rather uncomfortably behind his own head, his fingers spread, and the ring seemingly ending up on his finger.

Havfyg appeared back at where he started, acting as if nothing happened. He said, "I don't [i]seek[/i], Caro." He had to establish dominance. If he didn't, Caro, out of all these criminals, would seek his destruction. Possibly break the binding of his own ring, he had no doubt, though it would take more than simple magic to do so. "You will do as I ask." His mouth quirked to a half-smile, "Though I wouldn't think of it as enslavement. Think of it as, yes, a duty to your Emperor. A duty that will see you free." He paused, then added, "Don't try removing the ring. I don't know what it would do to someone with your...soul, situation."

"You bind a willing man, with power enough to remove the device with which you bind him given time." Caro's body had remained as twisted and contorted as it was when the Emperor's hands had been removed. "Servitude is a willing act. You've rejected my willing servitude for forced servitude. How Nord of you, My Emperor." The undead's hands pulsed for a moment, and his whole body lost its weight. He hovered in place for a moment, then floated his way towards the cell of the door.

"See to it, Emperor, that you keep a close watch on me. My respect for you is greater than that of the mortals that surround us, if only because your facade is so impeccably held, but it has its limits. Whatever did our mutual lord show you in my book?" His arms now went limp, and the creature floated dully. It was clearly a Lich of some kind. This much was clear now to his newfound cohorts.

"When I do remove it from myself, and the rest of us, I will deliver to you a method for preventing escape from the rings. I feel that deep-white soul-itch. I cannot imagine this will be as complex as you imagine it to be. Seek allies in your magicks, the time next."

Havfyg chuckled, "I look forward to your attempts." His eyes only needed to move slightly to see the adjacent cell, which housed Uthane the Argonian. He frowned, "I thought I told them to kill you. No matter, I suppose."

He turned around to check on Veteria. He felt ill at ease doing this sort of thing to a, by some accounts, noble warrior such as herself. The reasons for why she had poisoned her lord were said by his Penitus Ocultus agents to have been a matter of protecting the citizens of his land. But, like many inconvenient nuisances he had, had to deal with, she ran before being taken to question. And ran. It wasn't his course to argue with his nobles on matters of justice. As long as they obeyed. Avoiding justice was always, unlawful.

Arguably, so was this, but he was the Emperor and believed to be Talos reborn, so who would argue with a Divine?

He opened Veterias cell second, "I advise standing back when I open the other cells. I don't think Caro is a fool." He paused to  narrow his eyes at Uthane, " But..." he pulled his hand back from the cell, frowning. "Well, you never know when those cursed by Hircine could turn, and believe me, you wouldn't want to get scratched by this beast. In fact, I think he is too volatile to use even for this task."

Vetaria felt a relief as the cell door opened. Her instinct was to run out and enjoy her freedom, as a innocent girl would in meadows of flowers. The reality of her situation quashed such ridiculous thoughts. She cautiously stepped out and joined the side of her Emperor. 

'[i]Caro?[/i]', she thought. The name was familiar, but her malnourished mind struggled to remember its significance. Hunger, thirst and exhaustion each battled to be considered the most inside her head, resulting a haze of chaos as she attempted to ponder her circumstance and just what in Oblivion was going on. Then the ball dropped. The Caro family had long been the Counts of Leyawiin, but had fallen on hardships in the past few decades, with many sons being killed in the Great War against the Dominion. Why then, was one being held in the dungeons of the Emperor, surely it was not [i]the[/i] current Count? And as far as she was aware, he had no surviving sons and his daughters no longer bared the Caro name.

The second comment made by Havfyg was more abstract. Hircine maintained the dominion over creatures affected by the night and the lunar bodies reigning over Nirn. Had there been a were-wolf next to her in the adjacent cell this entire time? Veta shuddered at the thought, and her stomach sank at the prospect of meeting one momentarily. She had never seen such a creature before, and she felt vulnerable without her sword and armour and moreso with her wits currently tempered by the effects of her imprisonment. 



As cliche` as it may have been, Enathrae was not impressed. Standing against the wall of the archway just beyond the corridor of the steps, he watched the Emperor move about interacting with the various miscreants that had been pulled in from various locations across the empire. His lack of enthusiasm was noted in his appearance. The Dunmer was balanced on one leg, the other bent against the wall in something similar to the shape of an upside down four. His arms crossed over his chest, shoulder pressed against the dusty stone holding his weight securely in place. His face looked exhausted as if he had been listening to ramblings of old Heimskr for far too long. But it was the raised eyebrow that had given away every thought he was not trying very hard to hard. 

"If we are done measuring our -swords-, perhaps we can get things properly underway." The violet eyed spell sword took a deep breath releasing it in an unapologetic sigh of disbelief. "This is our lot in life. We do the biddings of others or we do not and in the end we lives with the consequences of those actions. Quite frankly, I would just prefer to have this divine forsaken piece of ugliness off of my fingers." Enathrae held out his hand to examine the lackluster gold ring, "I've never been one for such overly coveted things."

Looking over his shoulder, Enathrae gazed back up the stairs. He did not make a move to ascend them nor did he have any inclination to further examine his companions. He knew what he was getting into. He knew the difficulties he would surely encounter traveling with such a nightmare host. Presumably he and the woman would have little trouble walking the streets and the trails. Even this -Hircine- emblazoned beast of a man should be fine assuming he can keep his hairballs in check. But this lich, a powerful entity indeed and one that Enathrae would not lightly interact with may be problematic. What fool would come to believe that a lich could travel the urban settings without attracting the unwanted attention of, well, everyone with eyes to see and ears to hear the screams drawn out by such a frightening individual. 

"Perhaps the time is right for us to work towards our earned rewards rather than blabbering with introductions that may not even be necessary." 

The lich in question took count of his potential companions, then. He was ignorant of the nature of Werewolves and their ilk so he took not the signs in Hafvyg's speech regarding the thing to be anything more than supertition. What truely interested him was the Knight in his presence and the Dunmer with those ancient eyes that were themselves a sort of ivory in the Dark Elf bloodlines. While maintaining a safe distance from any one individual, Reyman found a place to sit. Rather centrally.

Havfyg gave one last glance back to the Argonians cell, then said, "Right." He walked back towards the one stairway leading out, adding, "This way, if you would."

The group passed by the torturers cell yet again, but things had changed. There was a trail of blood leading from the cell, straight up the stairs, to the armory room where Gratyus resided. If one were to look into the cell, they would see the lower half of the red robed torturers abdomen. The man who had begged for his life earlier, was nowhere to be seen.

Havfyg growled, "Gods be damned, what even is this?" He looked back towards the rest of the party, "Eyes open. Anything that could break free and do..." he gestured towards the vivisected corpse, "That, isn't likely to give mercy." They followed the trail of blood up another stairwell.

The room was in shambles. Banners were ripped with long, ragged tears, and what looked like claw marks were cut across the western wall. The southern window was flung open, and the trail of blood followed with it. Several chests were flung open. A  fine steel longsword and one robe emblazoned with a white tree. A chest off to the side started to shake, with vague mumbling heard inside.

Havfyg swore an oath and ran over. He made a gesture with his hand, which produced a Ethereal handaxe, which he smashed into the chests lock. He flung it open, revealing Gratyus curled and sobbing inside. He asked, quickly, "What is going on Gratyus?"

Gratyus, in between sobs, managed to let out, "Werewolf."

Havfyg breathed in deeply. He turned back to the party, though he mostly assumed at this point that Enathrae was the defacto leader and so looked at him mostly, "Well. It looks like the danger has passed. I'll inform the guards to watch out werewolves, I suppose." He gave out a pained sigh. He glanced at Caro, "Could you...you know what, no, you're fine. What kind of fool would bother a Lich?"

Gratyus's eyes glanced to Caro and Veta. Behind Caro, he saw a mob of humans, mer, and beast, holding torches. Their features were blank and featureless. When he looked at Veta, she seemed to glow in a bright golden light, but thin black strands, like those of a puppets strings, tugged at her shoulders, arms, and legs. He began to sob again.

Havfyg added, "Ignore him, he hasn't had skooma in a few days." He walked over to the sword on the floor, which with its white tree pommel and branchlike engravings on the crossguard, Veta would recognize as her own. He picked it up, brushing dirt off the blade, "I suggest you all start locating your gear in this mess." He handed the sword to Veta, handle first, "If you reach the Talos district, there's a statue of myself there. The sword isn't normally removable, but if you press two fingers against the statues eyes, it releases its grip on the sword. The sword is silver. I hope you can see how this may come in handy." He moved along, to look out the window towards the city. To release these thieves, scum, and a knight on the Imperial City on The Day of Rebirth...things were about to get interesting.