[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/q0fnOOu.png[/img][/center]
[right][sup][color=CD0000][b]Location:[/b][/color] [i]The Tunnels Beneath[/i] [color=CD0000][b]Direct Mentions:[/b][/color] [@kazemitsu] [/sup][/right][hr]

[color=silver]As Veeza underwent the process of fixing his armor into place, he felt a deep sense of ease fill his belly. Pulling the straps and buckles of the battleworn iron was like putting on his own skin; there was more to Veeza than combat and conflict, but he knew what he was. He knew what he had spent his entire life conditioning himself for. He was a warrior. One that read books, practiced medicine, and was versed in the healing arts, but a warrior still. So when the other burly argonian had asked him whether he expected a real fight in their future, all he could say was, [color=CD0000]“Talos willing, yes.”[/color]

Last came the gauntlets, reinforced with sturdy steel and studded along the knuckles with dwarven metal that had broken more jaws than he could recall. It felt like he had his hands again. Veeza had never been in prison before. Never been locked up or dealt with any run-ins with the law. It was a disturbing situation made worse by the inexplicable series of events they were now dealing with. Gods above, [i]the Emperor[/i]. 

Strapping his short sword into place and readjusting the particulars in his pack, Veeza let his mind drift to home, to Kvatch. Perched in his comfortable chair, peering at Ildrani from behind a book he could only pretend to read when she was there to admire. The focus, the elegance of her form as she weaved her hands through the air and made magic. Her gaze flicking to him from time to time as she practiced, preening a bit under his appreciative gaze. She was beautiful to him, and she knew it, but she was brilliant too. She blended frost and fire, illusion and the elements, to create evocative displays of art that awed the people of Kvatch. They both thrived under the gaze of a crowd, and they both worked night and day to be at the peak of their fields. By Azura he missed her.

Soon. Soon he would be home.

His pack sorted, Veeza came back to himself, and noticed the chill of uncertainty that lingered in the air, permeated into the others. He felt it too. Either by instinct or by dark providence, he felt the encroaching danger. It was entirely possible this passageway was not as secret as the Blades had hoped. With the luck everyone seemed to be having, it was almost a guarantee. 

His armored form approached Kharne. [color=CD0000]”Might get that fight after all, beeko. Everyone looks jumpy. I don’t blame them.”[/color] He eyed the other warrior’s axe. [color=CD0000]“Impressive weapon,”[/color] He rasped. [color=CD0000]“If our poor luck holds, I look forward to seeing it in action.”[/color]

A ways away, he eyed the woman with the wilder's dagger with a mix of wariness and appreciation. And then there was Kiffar, the boisterous, hulking Cathay-raht. The prospect of fighting alongside such specimens - the wild, untamed and savage - got his tail thrashing.[/color]