[IC] The Elder Scrolls: Rising Storm

[sandman9913]

Orsinium
15th of Midyear, 4E 205
King Burkash gro-Nagorm

The Argonian Invitation

Burkash plodded through the streets of Orsinium, his heavy orcish boots thudding against the stone street leading up to the King's Hall (really a much larger version of the typical chieftain's hall in a stronghold), honour guard in tow.

Burkash took in a deep breath, ascending the rigid stone steps as a messenger arrived, "King Burkash! A message from the Argonians." Burkash snatched the letter from the messenger's hand, "Back to your post, watchman! Keep on the Western Wall, else your eyes be the ones to not spot an attack from the Redguards." The messenger nodded, sprinting back to the Western Wall as Burkash opened the letter. A few moments later, Burkash burst into the throne room, the council snapping to attention as he surveyed those gathered.

"Fellow lords of the Orcish kingdom," he began, "the Argonians have sent us a missive, inviting our kingdom to a summit within the province of Blackmarsh. What say you to this proposal?"

The first to stand was Chief Yagurz gro-Balfaz, "This stands as the perfect opportunity to re-enter the greater world of diplomacy and inter-Provincial politics. We must send an envoy to Black M--" The High Priestess of Malacath, Umog gra-Nagash slammed her fist on the arm of her chair, shouting over Chief Yagurz, "And what of the last time we involved ourselves in the politics of others?! Lord Malacath values strength and power, not duplicity and cunning. We should crush our enemies under our boot heels once more, damn the consequences!" Several voices of assent followed the both of them, the council rapidly degrading into a mess of bickering and shouting, as well as a bit of brawling. It was at this point that Burkash bellowed, "Enough!"

Burkash scowled, merely observing them as the councilors ceased their activities before finally speaking once more, "We shall send an envoy to Black Marsh...Chief Yagurz shall travel with an honour guard of his choosing. However, we shall also send scouts into Skyrim as well as Hammerfell. General Lagash gro-Nagrum, send ten scouts to the West, and ten scouts to the East. Dragonstar and Elinhir to the West, Falkreath to the East." General Lagash nodded and plodded off to draw up the scouts. With that, Burkash rested upon his throne, ready to begin.

Troop Movements

Ten scouts move towards Hammerfell, five breaking off to the South further down the Skyrim border, the other five moving more towards the High Rock border. Dragonstar is the northern group's primary target, with Elinhir being the primary target for the southern group.

Meanwhile, the Eastern group breaks up into five teams of two in order to cover more ground through the Falkreath hold, primarily seeking out groups of bandits and other rogues to make direct contact with.

[POOPHEAD189]

Corinthe, Pellitine (Southern Elsweyr) --- Weeks ago, a Khajiit by the name of S'arah was merely a smuggler boss. Few months ago, she was part of a Ka Po' Tun mercenary group along with Adi Tuah and few others. But now, after a period complete chaos following the Mane's death, S'arah became the adviser to the mayor of Corinthe. Her web of connections and capabilities for covert operations netted her this position beside the new mayor. In fact, she organized the mob that lynched the old mayor, after he declared his nephew as the reborn Mane. While she publicly directed various daily business for the mayor, S'arah was always on the lookout for her original goal, to gain control of the region or disrupt it prior to the main invasion. As various obstacles presented themselves to the newly independent Southern Elsweyr, the difficulty of her job increased steadily. Embargoes, propaganda and pirate raids, S'arah was ready to disappear back East and collect whatever payment Abasi-Kil feels like paying. Except that she hadn't done much after Adi Tuah's stunt, which probably meant that her payment would be from miniscule to non-existent. Sighing in disappointment, the disguised tigress went about her daily check up with her smugglers, or the Corinthe militia, as they were recently promoted to. "This one brought good news," a smuggler/militiaman reported. "We have defeated a scout party from the north, we even captured one of the scums." "Who is this scout? And what of our operation in Takar?" S'arah pressed on. She sent these cats out to subdue a possible northern hideout, though there was no order for capture. "Takar is no more, we burned it to the ground." the militiaman answered. "The scout's name is Ta'fel, that one won't say anything more than that." S'arah nodded in understanding before sending the Khajiit away. She continued her journey to the jail cell, where a detachment of her "militia" now gathered with the mayor. "Ah, my dear friend." The mayor greeted. S'arah knew the man to be a hands-on ruler, who preferred to personally oversee urgent matters. "I was just about to...greet our new guest." Joining her "superior", S'arah made her way inside the dungeon. She saw Ta'fel chained against a wall, with a table full of wicked instruments on the other side of the room. The mayor grabbed a spike from the table and held it close to the northerner's face, he spoke in a angered tone. "Tell us what you were doing, traitor scum. You don't want know what these tools can do." Ta'fel simply shook his head, muttering a Ta'agra curse unknown to S'arah. The mayor, already in a furious mood, took a brief step back, before embedding the spike into Ta'fel's shoulder. The metal instrument twisted with a sickening sound, withdrawing bits of flesh and bone. Ta'fel screamed on top of his lungs, as the pain shattered his body in ways he could not imagine. Even in grave pain, Ta'fel once again shook his head. This time, he gathered the blood from his mouth and spat right into the mayor's face. The mayor was surely over the edge now, as he wiped his face with his pocket cloth, he grabbed far more sinister looking instrument from the table. "Wait," S'arah interrupted. "Violence would get us nowhere. I have a alchemical solution just for this kind of occasion. You have to trust me." "Fine," the mayor spat. He returned his tool to the table and took a brief glance back before leaving "This one shall return in two hours. Just you wait, northern trash." S'arah sighed in relief at the mayor's departure. The cat was a strong warrior, a hotheaded fighter, not a calculating leader. This was preciously the reason why she was called upon to advise him, her reasoning often prevented the mayor from making some recklessly stupid moves. Just as in this case, the mayor would no doubt beat his prisoner to death, which would remove their chance for information and anger the north into an attack. Thankfully, with the two hours she got, S'arah had ample time to procure a truth serum and extract all the information she needed. After recording the words from Ta'fel's unwilling mouth, S'arah released him in secret and sent Ta'fel back north with a bloodied shoulder. Some time later, S'arah took her findings to the mayor, who had been drunk on his personal wine reserve and was sleeping soundly on his lavish bedding. The tigress simply dropped her report on a desk before heading back to the militia headquarters. This time, her militia captured another prisoner, an "Imperial" human, as the locals called them. The man, a messenger, seemingly lost in the desert while trying to deliver his message. "Now what," she asked impatiently. "Imperial dog here has some kind of letter," said the militiaman. "He got lost on his way to Orcrest. Haha, will you look at this fool." "Right, hand us the letter and start running north." "Wait, that one cannot escape. What if he..." the militiaman did not finish his sentence before S'arah snatched the letter and paddled away. --- A carriage between Elsweyr and Black Marsh --- S'arah only packed a small rucksack before leaving. Inside the bag were potion bottles, a hereditary moonstone dagger, the governmental crust of Corinthe and the letter. Apparently, the lizard "Argonians" are hosting a summit in some place called "Stormhold". The Khajiits were not invited directly but the Imperials insisted on their attendance. S'arah had left immediately after reading the letter. She did not need the mayor's opinion, if the cat does wake up, he will find her reports on Ta'fel's information and "escape" from the prison. In addition, she also forwarded her militiamen's advice on dealing with pirate, which included rerouting shipping paths, organizing escort vessels and posting bounties. Finally, she submitted her intention for the summit. Whether the mayor approved or not, it did not matter, for S'arah had crust and the dagger to back her "authority". An amazing opportunity, the tigress thought. This information meant lucrative bonus to her; the Tsaesci general would be delighted to hear that all of his preys are in one cage, for a simple decapitating blow would cut off many heads...

[LimeyPanda]

Stormhold, Black Marsh
20th of Midyear, 4E 205
Rules-With-Claw and Sha’eek the Shadowscale Mistress

---

The city of Stormhold was a beautiful one, at least in comparison to the deeper Argonian cities. The architecture was an unusual mix of imperial stonework and Argonian tree structures and it was not stuffed with the dense canopy that inner Black marsh was more known for. At night, you saw the beauty of the stars and in the day, you felt the kiss of the sun.

Rules-With-Claw and Sha'eek stood at the doorway of the grandest building in the city: A large stone fort that seemed to be built into a giant mushroom of sorts. The Mushroom was a rainbow of colours and seemed to flow undisturbed by the stonework. It was a perfect representation of the New Argonian people: less reclusive, while still natural and deadly. It was here that the summit would be held in a number of days, and it was here that the people of Argonia would place themselves on the political board.

"I still do not understand why my Shadowscales were reduced to messengers. You could have sent any new-claw to deal with these smoothskins." Sha'eek looked perhaps her most deadly in casual attire. The reason being that she looked decidedly normal for an Argonian. Among her race, she was indeed a beautiful being, but none-the-less an average looking one. No gratuitous muscles or viscous scars marked her as anything other than a merchant or a princess or a dockworker. It was perhaps her greatest strength as an assassin.

"The Shadowscales do not inspire the reverence they deserve, Sha'eek. If these leaders are wise, they would now realise how easily our chosen could have ended those guard captains: or their advisers, or their families, or their rivals."

Sha'eek's brow raised, small golden rings rising with them "So my Shadowscales were used in order to show them off, like a horse or a hound?"

Rules-With-Claws shrugged. Unlike the Assassin, he looked much more than a simple Argonian. He stood at nearly seven feet tall, with the muscles of a man and eyes that held the cunning of a mer. Rumours had it that he held Naga-blood in his veins, although their was no evidence to prove it. He was, however, a warrior: and a leader. "Yes. Sithis knows that your order possesses the greatest assassins in Tamriel, Everyone else needs to know it too."

Sha'eek just smirked at that thought, placing a hand on Rules-with-claws shoulder. "Is that why they patrol your borders?"

Rules-With-Claws just smirked at that. He had always held a fondness for Sha'eek that had nearly made her his bride. "No, they are making sure that none of our guests bring trouble with them.I would not put it past the Nords or the Empire to bring a dagger or two for the Altmer. When I promise neutrality, I mean it. Come, we have work to do. Stalks-the-stars is meeting the first official as we speak. I wish to discuss with you the pirates that hound our coasts."

---

Stormhold, Black Marsh
20th of Midyear, 4E 205
Stalks-The-Stars

---

At the gates if Stormhold, Stalks-The-Stars looked a far more magnificent figure than the vagabond who'd visited the Imperial City but a short while prior. He was adorned in a magnificent glass Cuirass, greaves and boots, as well as a fine leather cape. At his side was a hand-axe and, as always, the wolf-headed ring was on his finger. He had arrived to meet the elder councilor. "Greetings, Imperial. My name is Stalks-The-Stars, lord of Stormhold. You must be hungry, and you are my guest. Come to my palace, and we shall see that you and your men are fed."

The confidence of Stalks-The-stars portrays an Argonian of some birth and strength. He had no need to hide in the shadows or shrink back in fear. Here was a creature that felt certain he could rip apart a legion, should he have to. He was a champion amongst his people, and his very presence was charismatic.

---

Eastern Coast, Black Marsh
21st of Midyear, 4E 205
Sha’eek the Shadowscale Mistress

---

Sha'eek stood at the coast of Black Marsh, near a cave that had been reported to home at least a significant portion of the raiders that struck her lands. On her back, she held a small pack and no longer was she dressed in casual-wear. Her body was coated in molded black armour, shaded like midnight. In her hand was a dagger and on her back, a crossbow. There would be no confusing her for a merchant now: she was clearly a killer...A shadowscale.

She dipped into the water, fully submerged in the liquid as she swam towards the cave.

---

Actions:
Rules-With-Claws is now present in Stormhold
Stalks-The-Stars is now present in Stormhold, he is greeting the representatives of each faction.
Shadowscales patrol the border to Black Marsh and Stormhold, ensuring that no assassins can sneak into the neutral zone.
Sha’eek the Shadowscale Mistress is out of Stormhold, dealing with the pirate situation. She will not be present at the summit.

[Sovi3t]

Envoy to Black Marsh ( On the Road to the Imperial City
15th of Mid Year

Balgruuf seemed slowly ride his horse. A convoy of roughly 100 Soilders ( A mixture of recruits and regulars ) and a few other set pieces were in the convey, along with a ton of other supplies such has potions , funds , swords and armour. Along with camping and a ton of sleeping bags. The convoy would enter thru Cyrdoil and make its way down, stopping near inns before stopping in the imperial city. Once that is done, it'll head to Black Marsh. Morale was content with troops seeming to not really mind the long journey, and skirmishes with bandit groups turned not to be that much of a challenge.

Imperial City
16th of Midyear

The Envoy stopped, at the Imperial City.

" Halt, who goes there? "

" Envoy from Skyrim" one of the guards said

" Skyrim?! "

" Yes, We like to stay here until we move out in a few hours "

" Preceed "

The envoy moved into the city , heading to the market district. Most of the men retired at the Tiber Septum Inn, including Balgruuf , but a certain party didn't...

Waterfront District
16th of Midyear

" Move quickly! "

Three Argonians and Two Khajits moved thru the Waterfront district, heading to the Imperial Warehouse. One Argonian then knocked on the door twice.

The door opened

" Who goe- Oh its you 5 "

The door opened has the 5 went Into the warehouse, they nodded to some people already at the talve, including a nord and a imperial.

" Greetings "

" We going towards Black Marsh right? "

" Yes, a new assignment... We must "Watch over" the leaders and learn there agenda.. Simple task decent pay. "

" Jartod has insured our pay, we should make haste "

" The only problem is, the Imperials are the only on there "

" Interesting , let us just go "

Actions

- Envoy Arrives to Black Marsh
- Spies take up places around the summit building, watching the diplomants move and learning information on there actions/agenda
- Balgraaf stays in a inn, with heavy protection and a spy to protect him

[Hyperdrive]

Ildoryn Sarano
Stormhold, Black Marshes

Ildoryn arrived at the city of Stormhold, weary from travelling through the murky swamps of Argonia. Immediately after entering the city, the Sentinel escorts began to scan the area, looking for any signs of an ambush aimed at them. When Ildoryn's safety was assured, he was escorted out of the silt strider and began walking towards the lord of Stormhold, Stalks-The-Stars. Wearing a set of ornate ebony armor detailed with daedric inscriptions, Ildoryn's attire attracted attention from the people around him in every step. He didn't want the attention gathered by the attire, but he had to wear it as precaution, the Argonians might be brutes in the eyes of the Dunmer, but they were also cunning and unpredictable.

---

Roark Farandras
Ald'ruhn, Morrowind

The Orc blacksmiths finally arrived at Ald'ruhn, a city governed by Redoran Councilman Roark Farandras. The Orcs were escorted to their assigned living quarters before they were shown to the foundry, where they would pursue their duties pledged to Morrowind. The foundry when viewed from the outside, seemed simple, but when the Orcs entered the establishment, a facility stretching deep underground unraveled before them. The foundry was directly connected to a rich mine not far from the city, resulting to the place having a continuous supply of metal on a daily basis. Unknown to the workers, the place was also connected to a Dwemer contraption built in Molag Volen, which supplied the foundry heating to the massive furnaces used to melt down metals.

Roark strode along the ash covered pathway to welcome the new addition to the workers in the foundry. Roark didn't appear to be displeased by seeing the Orcs, but he was concerned with having worshipers of Malacath working with pious Dunmer in the foundry. Seeing that if he didn't interfere with the matter early on, an inner conflict might ensue. He then walked up towards a group of Dunmer opposite where the group of Orcs were standing and said.

"From this day forward, these Orcs will be leading the productions of this foundry. Our king acknowledges people by their skills, and not their beliefs or skin, so if you have doubts that they can lead you properly, prove your point by surpassing their skills in craft, then we'll take your concerns to the king himself."

---

Oravos the Nerevarine
Mournhold, Morrowind

"...Kiryat" says Oravos while reading the letter from Abasi-kil. He began to reminisce the image Kiryat in his mind when he left for Akavir two centuries ago. The island was beautiful and teeming with life, something completely different from Morrowind in the past. Now, Morrowind was slowly turning into the image Kiryat when he first saw it in each passing day, which made him feel uneasy when he begins to think of what Kiryat looked right now.

Just before midnight, Oravos, along with his personal guards and loyal servants, sailed towards the island in secret. If luck allows it, by sunrise they would arrive at their destination.

---

Somewhere on the Valus Mountains

Having finished settling in their new hideout, the agents began to cut-off the tongues of the civilian captives, and painfully ink them on their napes. Every captive were forced to watch the act over and over again that the scenes were embedded on their minds permanently. The tongues wiggled and twitched further for a few seconds till it finally calms down from being separated from the body. The captives never saw the faces of their captors, but they knew for one that they were twisted monsters behind the masks.

After having done the acts, they were tossed back with the rest of the prisoners who also had their tongues removed that day. They were all sitting on the dimly lit cabin, howling in pain and fear, with the sight of each other drooling ropes of blood from their mouths, and nothing to keep them warm other than the naked bodies of each other. When the captors finished with all the prisoners, they began to pick them out again, one by one, to treat the wound, before returning them back.

With Oravos absent at the capital, the agents halted their operations until the orders of Oravos from Mournhold arrives. While they waited for the orders, the agents took the civilian captives from the rest, and released them in the dead of the night in Cheydinhal. The agents acted swift as the guards in the town increased significantly, it actually became harder for them to move around, especially while carrying a bound captive. Once the captives were in place, their blindfolds were removed along with the bounds, sparking their instincts to escape.

The scene that followed their release appeared chaotic as each one of them ran on different directions. Some battering the doors of a house to ask for help, only to frighten those who wanted to help them. Some of them ran to the patrols, while crying and howling, only to be accidentally mistaken for monstrosities and be slashed down. Some ran into the taverns and inns causing the mass panic to the customers. The whole town came to life in the middle of the night with screams filling the streets.

While screams of terror filled the town, someone, somewhere, was laughing pleasingly at the sight.

[Prince Potter]

The Royal Fleet on the High Seas, near Lilmoth on the Coast of Black Marsh.
16th of Midyear
King Aelid Sillonor, First of his Name, Ruler of the Aldmeri Dominion, Protector of Alinor.

A fleet of thirty ships set sail from Dusk in Alinor, carrying the Battle-Mages and Thalmor bound for Valenwood, as well as the King and his personal entourage. Aelid had reluctantly agreed to allow High Justicar Aldra of the Thalmor into coming with him to the summit, as he could not refuse her knowing it was her Thalmor that would by dying for the Bosmer, not his own Loyalists. While he agreed with Aldra a fair amount, he found she lacked the social tact his people were known for. She was zealous and fiery, but also too blunt and direct for the subtly of a diplomat. He hoped she did not bring ruin to him.

Of the fleet of thirty, ten split off with the Thalmor to go reinforce Valenwood. Aelid wondered if he would ever see any of those men alive. The remaining twenty ships continued the course.

Besides the High Justicar, King Aelid had also seen it fit to take with him Lord Commander Dobin of the Order of the Eight, as well as his Seven other Knight-Brothers. Dobin was fierce and loyal, and he would have no other mer alive watching his back. The Kingsguard were also brought to show off in their own way.

‘Those Argonians were sending you two messages in one, Your Grace. That they could have slit Dobin’s throat while he was sleeping, rather than deliver that message to his chambers. Remember this, and look for the subtle signs in politics.’ Walden had advised him at sunset on the docks two days prior, as the Royal Fleet prepared to leave port.

Taking this advice, Dobin and his Knight-Brothers were adorned in armor of only the highest craftsmanship, with each and every one of The Kingsguard having a specific God of the Eight being the primary adornment on their armor. The Lord Commander’s was displayed with Akatosh, with ruby’s for the eyes of the dragon. Their armor had swirling lines of glittering gold on silver, with epic displays of warriors clashing against demons and other beasts engraved into the artwork on the breastplates. Their cloaks were white with gold trim, and barely breezed past the floor.

The High King of the Dominion wasn’t dumb enough to think that nobody at the meeting would find the chance of all these political leaders in one spot alluring, and as such he would dare any to bypass Dobin and his Order. It was his own silent challenge, and strutting as the Argonians had done. Yet as Aelid thought these many heavy thoughts on the parchment light ship of his people, Dobin approached him. Leaning on the railing as Aelid did, he would speak quietly.

“I would speak with you about your plans during this summit, Your Grace.”

“Then speak, brother.”

“You say you would draw closer relations to the Argonians as the Khajjit have betrayed our Dominion for the assassination of their Mane, an act I believe to have been from other sources than ours. However, they are in a bloody civil war. I have reports the North supports the Empire while the South wishes Independence. I must ask if it would be wise to send supplies and troops into the south to aid them. Even if they don’t re-join our Dominion and keep their Independence after the war, we would still have a powerful ally.”

“A powerful ally? A fractured people is weak, Surely you learned this during the Rebellion on Alinor, Dobin. If the High Justicar heard you attempting to broker Alliances with Cats and Lizards!”

“Aye, Your Grace. But you and I both know that Cats and Lizards die just as well on the battlefield as Mer or Men do.” Dobin had a stout and serious look on his face, as if he was leading up to something more. Aelid was annoyed that his friend wished to talk politics, when the King wished simply to relax and listen to the splash of the waves against their beautiful near silken ships.

“I would prefer the Dunmer and Bosmer rejoin our cause, as they are the purest and most fit for our people. Perhaps the Bretons could join, if they were lucky. But we must make do with what we can, and I understand your point Dobin. Perhaps we could help these Southern Cats, and they could aid us in the future. I shall see about sending an envoy to them after the summit. I doubt rebels like that will be at an official political meeting.”

Dobin waited a moment, and opened his mouth to press the issue, when a sailors voice caught the wind.

“We’ll be laying anchor at Lilmoth within the hour, then riding through all of Black Marsh to Stronghold! Prepare for thick jungle and giant bugs!”

A few sailors laughed, but Dobin remained stone faced, and Aelid found he could not smile at their lightheartedness.

“AND I was hoping that if we unify Elsweyr under a friendly banner, perhaps we could strike Valenwood from two sides, and we could regain the Bosmer? I would confess, I miss my homelands, Sire. I would see the Wood Elves restored to our Dominion.”

“Aye, as would I, Lord Commander.” Aelid said wistfully, dropping a small silver medallion over the edge of the ship, and into the surf below. It was superstitious, but he heard Altmeri Sailors do it once for good luck, and he decided that he would need all the luck he could get.

Alinor, Summerset Isles, Capital of the Aldmeri Dominion
16th of Midyear
Lord Regent of The Fourth Aldmeri Dominon Orthos

Orthos stood proudly on the Capital’s Docks, watching sailors and shipworkers scurry by furiously, crafting and maintaining the remainder of The Royal Fleet which King Aelid had not taken, or the Valenwood Reinforcements. A smaller time merchant approached the Lord Regent timidly, and spoke softly.

“Excuse me, my Lord. But I’m afraid the construction of this many ships may take longer than we had originally hoped."

“How long?” Asked Orthos coldly, not breaking his gaze with the sunset on the sea.

“It may take months! The amount of lumber and spider silk, not even mentioning the enchantments...”

“I trust you will make sure it is completed in an appropriate amount of time. I take it the High King will be gone for some time, and I would surprise him with this Secret Fleet that we may use The Royal Fleet for offensive purposes, thus leaving us ‘vulnerable’ to Naval assault from the Imperials. Yet when they show up…”

“This hidden fleet is to throw them back..?” The small time merchant whispered, his eyes large as moons. Awe slowly spread across his face as he realized The Lord Regent had chosen him to assemble a fleet capable of repelling a invasion. If this merchant failed in his duty, all of the Dominion would pay…

Without another word, he rushed off feverishly, a new haste in his step and urgency in his voice. Orthos was glad the merchant understood the importance of his job. The imperial man, Walden, said that this merchant was too lowly to assemble anything worthwhile. He hoped the man was wrong.

Turning away from the docks, Orthos climbed the glass steps up into the palace, where it shimmered in the rising moonlight. He had heard strange reports from The Arcane Society about some ‘superb plan’ to aid the Dominion with their Sorcery. Yet these were still just rumors and whispers, and Orthos had never been one for the Arcane. He was a practical mer, believing only what his eyes and ears tell him. He had other things to focus on.

Actions
-King Aelid has landed his Fleet in Lilmoth and is currently riding North, towards Stormhold.
-The Lord Regent Orthos has begun construction on a secret fleet of ships.

[POOPHEAD189]

General Abasi-Kil
Kiryat

---

The trio of ships arrived during nigh time. High general Abasi-Kil was accompanied by a group of Dragonguards, along with the Tang Mo and Kamal commanders. There were no large structures present on the island, which forced the Akaviri to set up tents along a meadow overlooking the coast. The general wanted to ensure a proper meeting between the two parties, therefore, a small batch of tents, made from the finest eastern silk were pitched. Their improvised meeting site contrasted greatly with the island, where lush green vegetation stood out against the scarlet fabrics.

For a brief second, Abasi-Kil noticed the Tang Mo and Kamal commanders stood peacefully together, a truly rare sight to behold. However, the general realized that they were both tensely looking at the distance, where faint dots sailed toward Kiryat. Unlike Abasi, those two had never seen the folks of Tamriel, even at Abasi's convincing words, they still had suspicions for the western folks.

"They are here," Abasi announced briefly before returning to the tents. Tsaesci logicians have setup a long wooden table, with some liquid refreshments on top of it. There were no chairs, for the Tsaesci's serpentine lowers made them incapable of using such furniture. Instead, the ground has simply been paved with soft fur carpet, much to the Tang Mo and Kamal's displeasure. But this meeting was Abasi's choosing, which meant decisions were ultimately his.

---

"S'arah"
Stormhold, Black Marsh

---

The architecture of Stormhold amused the tigress. For a race of swamp dwelling lizards, they are actually capable of building cities. In any case, the buildings of Stormhold provided a welcoming sight for S'arah, whose previous journey through the treacherous swamp left her in a bitter mood. Now, at a checkpoint outside of the gate, they were only met with cold rejection.

"What do you mean that we are not invited?" S'arah pointed to the guards. She traveled with a small group of Corinthe militias, whom accompanied her on the carriage.

"My lord said nothing of Khajiits," a guard countered. These lizards were stubborn, but S'arah was determined to attend the meeting, whether they like it or not. Seeing difficulties in persuading the guards, she fetched her bag from the accompanying Khajiits. From the bag, the tigress produced the crust, the dagger, the letter and a small cloth pouch.

"I am representing the free city of Corinthe, from the Pellitine Confederation of Southern Elsweyr," S'arah said as she presented the crust and the dagger. Pulsing briefly, she took out the letter and pouch. "Even though we were not invited to participate in debates, we have the rights to observe this meeting."

"But, my lord.." the guard was quickly cut off.

"We are done here." S'arah interrupted. She dropped the pouch into the guard's hand, where it landed with the sounds of clacking gold coins. "I will speak to your lord directly."

A few minutes later, S'arah and her entourage of militia arrived at the gate. They were greeted by a Argonian dressed in lavish armor.

"Greetings," S'arah waved. "You must be the lord of Stormhold. I hope you don't mind that we, the free Khajiits of Elsweyr, observe this grand summit of yours."

[darkwolf687]

A treaty with the Thalmor

To Aedil of the Aldmeri Dominion

What a sad hand fate has dealt the Dominion. Your ideas of Elven superiority lay shattered at the feet of an equal cooperation of men, elves and beasts. Your fleet is broken, your armies in Valenwood crushed. I offer you a chance to surrender to the Empire, Bosmer and Redguards. Your people will be treated with charity and kindness and your captive soldiers will be returned to you. The personal effects of your deceased shall also be returned. Your nation will be able to continue as an independent country governed in this manner should your people wish it. Just a few of the terms that will be placed upon you as a result of surrender are as follows; you will formally apologise for your acts against man and beast, you will release any such captives you are holding, you will allow the territories of Valenwood and Elsweyr to decide their political future without you, you shall pay reparations for the damage you have caused towards the other races. Finally, you're fleet size may never surpass more than a quarter of the Imperial fleet, and your armies will be restricted to 1/3 the size of the Imperial Legion. This will be in effect for one hundred years, after which the naval and military restrictions will be returned to status quo. During this period Empire forces will be permitted to stay in your land to ensure you are honouring the agreement.
Don't try to bluff, the Altmer reproduce slower than the races of men, you haven't recovered from the first war as well as we have, let alone will recover as well and as quickly as we will from this one. The Redguard fleets have put your own to shame and the Imperial legions have broken your army while the bosmer have proven to more than outmatch you on their native turf. If you continue this war, the destruction of the Aldmeri dominion and occupation of Alinor by Redguard and/or Imperial forces is inevitable.

-Legate Barus

Black Marsh

A second carriage arrived in the city, and the doors are opened, revealing the count of Cheydinhal. He steps off and into the city, guarded by two bodyguards on either side.

Meanwhile, the Elder Councillor had given a small and respectful bow to the Argonian "Greetings, I apologise for the
Emperors absence, he was and possibly is away when this summit was called. I am afraid I shall have to suffice as the Empires representative" the Councillor said as he raised again to his upright position, and when the free Khajiit arrived he gave them a small bow also "Hail" He said simply, before turning back to the Argonians

Cheydinhal

With the count having left right after the anarchy to go yo the Summit, obviously hoping Morrowind would attend so that he could try and turn the Argonians against them, not that it would be all too difficult considering their history, his son had been left in charge. And boy, was he in charge of the mess. The ones they had originally saved had provided some worthwhile information, and the position that it was linked to Morrowind had only garnered more and more support over time, considering the suspicious lack of evidence being considered too skillful for daedra worshippers. For now, he had to keep the legion on a leash... But the three penitus Oculatus had a mind if their own.
They had crossed the border into with a plan, no where near as grand as the plot that had surrounded Cheydinhal, but enough that they considered it a worth while venture. They had, of course, set up their escape route so they could make a quick get away. Using the charms around their neck, which were enchanted to confer invisibility, the three agents operated outside the control of the count, having received orders directly from the legions legate
It had become a bit of an embarrassment, truth be told, so they needed to catch the perpetrators, and they had failed with almost every plan they could come up with. That the perpetrators had not taken the penitus Oculatus had ruined that plan, and they had turned their attention away from such elaborate plots.

[LimeyPanda]

Stormhold, Black Marsh
20th of Midyear, 4E 205
Stalks-The-Stars

---

Making small greetings with the various members of the many holds had been an enjoyable enough distraction, although the monotony of greeting each hold had begun to grow tiresome after the representative of the Nord arrived.

The first envoy that truly made waves was the Dunmer. As bombastic as ever, they seemed to be the first who truly got the point of the message. Arriving in Ebony armour was a dark skinned representative who looked far too nervous to be the ruler of the Slaver-lands. It was an impressive show, for certain. Stalks-The-Stars moved over to the representatives and dipped his head respectfully. He was tall for an Argonian, and his refusal to bend the knee would be obvious. “Greetings, representative of the Dunmer, I hope you had a pleasant journey and I hope any previous animosity between our races might be forgotten today. I would lead you to the castle, but I am preoccupied by greeting over officials. Follow Mi’raana over there…” He indicated to a small Argonian woman, dressed in certain finery that paled in comparison to the summit-goers “…And you will be shown to your quarters. Your men can be placed in adjoining rooms. As the letter highlighted, the Summit will begin in two days. In the mean-time, I suggest you enjoy the pleasures my city has to offer. The market district sells some of the finest silk in all of Tamriel, and our jewellers take great pride in their work with precious stones.”

Moving past the Dunmer, he spotted a being that confused him greatly: A tall Cat-folk, followed by a second representative of the empire. The Cat-folk spoke first, and Stalks-The-Stars was left pausing. He was about to speak up, when the lord of Cheydinhal met with the Empire’s representative, and they in turn spoke up both to himself and to the stranger. Politics had him pausing his retort, as he offered greetings to the Empire-lings. “Greetings to all that would attend the summit: I will admit, the presence of Eleswyr is a surprise to me. I sent no invitation to your people because of the recent civil split, and the loss of a noble Mane. It would be unfair to invite one group over another, especially when our summit would struggle to allow fair discussion to be given to the Khajiit plight.” Stalks-The-Stars glared at the Imperial representatives, fully aware that some trickery was afoot. “The divided Khajiit were going to be invited to attend a different meeting in a few weeks’ time: so as to try and mend the gulf between the first two races that called Tamriel home. As it stands though, we welcome the presence of the Khajiit, even if it is purely as observers.“

“I ask that the Empire’s representatives follow the Mi’raana, much like I have advised the Dunmer. I would speak to the representative of Eleswyr alone.” It appeared that Stalks-The-Stars was leaving no space for negotiation here. His tail seemed to sway with agitation, as if warning both men against staying. There was no doubt who was the warrior between the three: and it would be unlikely that the Nords or the Dunmer would care much for a lacking of the Empire’s voice.

“Now, Lady Khajiit, if you will follow me briefly?”

---

Close to the Summit building, Stormhold, Black Marsh
20th of Midyear, 4E 205
Various Shadowscales

---

The movements of the summit attendees had not gone unwatched and even now: mysterious machinations were underfoot. They had been told to expect guards from each group, and had been able to observe the guards of the Imperials and of the Dunmer. The Altmer had reportedly landed in Lilmoth and had brought it seems the most guards yet.

Oddly, the Nords had the least guardians, instead bringing a small number of individuals who did not look like guards who then attempted to set up shop around the summit building. The Shadowscales were confused by this, and the reports were mixed between ‘Assassins’, ‘Mercenaries’ and ‘Merchants’. Without the presence of a unifying leader, No Shadowscale moved in to intercept the threat or contact the Nordic strangers, although a guard was set up to watch them. Shadowscales had the advantage of terrain, so the chances of them being spotted were minimal.

---

---

---

Actions
-Stalks-The-Stars has met with both Empire representatives, the Nordic representative and the Dunmer representative. Each have been moved towards the castle.
-Stalks-The-Stars has greeted the Khajjit representative with a degree of suspicion. He is speaking to her in private.
-The Shadowscales are watching the Nordic Dark Brotherhood members, [b]The lack of Sha’eek the Shadowscale Mistress’ prescence has led to indecision about how to deal with the group. They are being watched, but unimpeded.[b]

[GreivousKhan]

The North Coast Of Valenwood
17th of Midyear, 4E 205

The near ninety ships had anchored off the shoreline of northern Valenwood, and with the altmer forces there fully eradicated or pushed underground, or to the south, the redguards had in fact begun to fortify themselves in makeshift encampments stretched across the beaches that bordered the Gold Coast. Empty troop-transports had already begun to be ferried back under escort to Stros M'kai, Taneth, and Rihad. All to establish a steady supply line for the near ten thousand Ra-gada forces now settled on Bosmer lands after their short skirmish.

The bulk of the forces gathered north of Emperor's Run and west of present day rooted Falinesti. Thankfully the region was not as densely forested as the heart of Valenwood, so close to the coast as it was. In the center of one such fortified camp dotted with many tents and supplies, with men scurrying about them like ants, was erected Temijens commanders tent, within all his top lieutenants and warlords had gathered, a square table capable of being dismantled in a hurry between them, maps and charts laid out upon it.

"Our forward forces have not spotted any Thalmor forces since they have started fleeing deeper into the forest south." Khasta said. "As per your orders we have not followed to engage them."

Temijen nodded. "Good. With any luck their power bases in northern Valenwood should already be competently taken by the empire. What of the Imperials and other local forces?"

"As might be expected, their splitting up and wiping out any left over Dominion forces or areas of remaining resistance." One warlord, by the name of Shadand, quickly pitched in.

"Have our forces aid in hunting down whatever's left of the Dominion, they have been in this country longer then we have, they know it better than us. Be sure they learn as much about the region as they can, as well as the movements of the imperials." Temijen then added. "The latter should be down as discreetly as possible."

The man nodded as did the others.

"Also, have our ships patrol the coastline, focusing on our supply lines in the gold coast region. With that done, spread our scouting parties in the surrounding region, I want to know every nook and cranny of this province just as well as I know the back of my hand by next months end, tell them to hire guides if they must, is that understood?"

Again more nods of understanding. Not that Temijen needed to remind them of the basics of reconnaissance in a foreign land. Still the reminder would do them good.

"Finally assemble a party and send it to Falinesti under the pretense of a diplomatic entourage, I want the message sent that I wish to speak with their...Keeper' of theirs. It's high time I took the man’s measure, and for the Bosmer to start paying for the crimes done by their own hands."

Varnklith crossed his arms following Temijen's declaration. "And will we be sending word to the Imperial warlord as well? Legate Barus-- a capable man if rumors are to be believed."

"They are, the Emperors choose well in sending that one. I heard of him when I served in the Legions, before the Empire abandoned us. But yes, I will send word once my meeting with the Bosmer Keeper is concluded."

Actions

-Yokudan warships patrol the coast of northern Valenwood.
-Word has reached the capital of a Summit in Black March; preparations are under way to send a representative.
-Redguard forces have dug in in the province of Valenwood.
-Word has been sent to the Bosmer Keeper for a possible meeting between the leaders of both people
(have more planned but all I have time to post amt)

[Prince Potter]

Stormhold, Blackmarsh
21st of Midyear
High King of the Aldmeri Dominion Aelid, Ruler of Alinor.

Aelid did not like Black marsh, and he thought the land disliked him. Since docking in the fairly sized coastal city of the region, their host of mer and horses had faced nothing but large insects, inhospitable temperature, and a plethora of other environmental disasters. He had sat upon his horse for what felt an eternity, idly swatting at the flying pests that the young king swore were after his royal blood in specific. The young Altmer was relieved to see Stormhold through a brief opening in the canopy of foliage overhead though, and knew within the hour they would be at the gates.

Dobin walked next to him, holding the reigns of his horse. His armor of silver and Elven smith stood a stark contrast in these lands. The young king looked about to the host of Altmer among him, and his eyes fell upon the High Justicar. Once the two made eye contact, it was almost as if they had both been waiting.

“You know that what happens in this council will decide the fate of our people, my liege?” The Thalmor Officer spoke with a stone cold voice, but Aelid knew better. Behind her xenophobia and bigotry, Aldra too had parents who loved her, and friends who cared for her wellbeing. Behind her hatred and fury was a child’s fear.

“I do. That is why I intend for this council meeting to go well.” Aelid forced a smile, and though it was charming, it was not genuine. The High Justicar relaxed a little, flashing a hint of a smile. He knew that many of the Altmer must be strained and stressed after the recent problems in the Dominion, and Aelid could only hope the reinforcements sent to Valenwood would be sufficient.

The party made their way to the gates, and the Altmer noticed both the Imperial Architecture and the uniquely Argonian craftsmanship as well. The place had slick, dark walls and none of the damned foliage he dislike of southern black marsh.Yet as they entered the gates of the city, Aelid found a Argonian dressed as nearly as brightly as his Kingsguard. The high elf admired the gleam of his glass cuirass, and the cape was the exact same length as the Order’s, barely brushing behind as you walked. The Argonian looked important, and the Altmer approached him.

“Greetings to you, native of the marsh. I am High King Aelid of the Aldmeri Dominion. I have travelled a very long ways with my guard, and would seek food and refuge until the morn. We have come bearing gifts, to honor your people.” Aelid clapped his gloved hands together, and two Altmer stepped through the crowd, each carrying one side of a large chest. It appeared heavy and awkward, and they set it down with only slight difficulty before the Argonian.

“Inside you would find fabrics and silks unseen anywhere else in Nirn other than the Summerset Isles, it is very comfortable and catches the light. The rich crimsons and vibrant emeralds of the swirling colors may bring some optimism to such a dark region…” Aelid chuckled lightly and looked around once more as he dismounted, and thought to himself one simply couldn’t argue that this WAS a dark place.

Alinor, Summerset Isles, Almderi Dominion
21 of Midyear
Lord Regant Orthos of Alinor, Admiral of the Royal Fleet.

Orthos stood in the Throne Room of the Palace, and paced back and forth with parchment clutched tightly in his fist. Near him stood three other Altmer, one of them a mere messenger boy, the other a Thalmor officer, the last was The High Queen.

“A Legate would dare send a letter such as this to our King Aelid!” Spat the Thalmor official angrily, his fury giving his words a potent sting. It was clear this news would spread throughout the Isles quickly, and enrage many of the Royal Class by the Insolence of this Barus.

“Do these stupid men really believe they could invade Alinor, anyhow? Fools! They shall all go to watery graves!” The Thalmor continued on, his brow knit angrily. Several people quickly skirted through the throne room, obviously on important business. The Lord Regant, looking for a distraction, called the small group, and quickly found they were in Mage’s Robes.

“And what presence in the Aldmeri Palace do you lot have?” Orthos asked politely.

“We are from the Arcane Society, Lord Regant. We we’re sent by our Arch-Mage to come to Library here and find a specific book about the lunar cycle. I’m afraid we’ve been sworn to secrecy for now on the subject, but we plan on aiding the Dominion greatly very soon.” The leader of this small pack, a young Altmer with silver eyes spoke proudly. Orthos was intrigued by this, but the irritated Thalmor brought him back to the task at hand.

“I see. Well, take what you need. I would also have you go see the Quartermaster, and report to him any requirements of obstacles you face in your experiment.” Orthos said seriously and with a nod, excusing the group. The lad nodded and thanked the Lord Regant, before scuttling away.

Orthos sighed and collapsed onto the Throne of the Dominion, and looked once more at the letter. The Lord Regant slowly began to smile as his eyes flicked across the parchment once more.

“The only thing I don’t understand is that they would ask we keep our Royal Fleet to a quarter the size of the Imperial one. Yet even being outmatched Four to One, I could still keep those damned Imperials out of our Harbors.” He smiled slyly at his own compliment, and saw even the Queen appreciated his humor. It appeared the Thalmor did not.

“You think this a laughing matter? The Imperials are right. They rally all of Tamriel to their banner, and while we may be superior they number too great!” The Thalmor was near indignant now, furious both at the Empire and at Orthos. Yet Orthos seemed cool and calm, and turned to the courier boy.

“Courier, pen a message to be delivered to The Empire. Tell them what we think of their treaty.” Orthos then turned his attention back to the Thalmor.

“And what care is it of mine their number? If every Altmer dies having killed a dozen Imperials, I will have considered it a victory, regardless their number.

Tell me, Officer. ..

Would you say the Emperor has truly beaten us, if he beats us only by drowning us in the blood of his men?”

Frontlines of Valenwood Conflict
23rd of Midyear
Courier

Rain pours down on Valenwood as what seems like endless numbers of bosmer hide away in what also appears to be endless trees. The Altmer jogs quickly along a forest trail, and is alone. He knows multiple sets of eyes watch him, but realized a while back on the path that if they wanted to kill him, they would have by now. He would reach the Imperial Camp without issue, and hand over a scroll bearing the official seal not only of the Aldmeri Dominion, but of the High King of Alinor as well. It would read thus;

“Legate Barus of the Imperial Legion,

The High King Aelid has left the Summer Isles, and as such, the Lord Regant handles only Royal Affairs. Npw, while I hope you find our relatives forest home comfortable, I cannot say I believe you will be residing their long. Not only is the Emperor too cowardly to even write to Aelid himself, but I found the terms of your treaty both laughable and dull. I would swear to you, that upon the return of the Thalmor to Valenwood, I personally shall take your head for this insult.

Best Wishes,

Lord Regant Orthos of Alinor."

Actions:
-Royal Host has reached Stormhold!
-The Arcane Society is receiving both Mercantile and Royal Funding now!
-Letter to the Legate

[Jangel13]

The keeper kept to the center of the forest making sure to coordinate all of the clans. My brothers were in the trees as they saw the troops show up in the northern shore they quickly went and informed me about it. I could only imagine why hammerfell was here although I highly doubt that they came here to only help the imperial. I grabbed my bow and arrows behind my back waiting as a small group of bosmer stopped their entourage and one asked "what business do you have here?" They said ready for whatever answer. If they said for war they had archers hidden in the trees if they said peace then I would cone to meet them myself but if they went further then that point they would make sure to follow them to make sure they didn't do anything then meet me

[Leidenschaft]

Summit of Balfiera

As much as it pained angered everyone in the great hall to hear such words being spoken about them, they could not help but as to view it as true. It was simply just that, and just how their crowns blocked any hope of a unified High Rock like the once great Emeric Dynasty, so too did it keep High Rock out of international politics, something the monarchs felt sore about immediately after their trail of thought brought them the revelation.

“Gaius is right.” Narcisse spoke, not hiding his begrudging tone nonetheless.

“Yes, he is. If the Elves truly do plan to take all of humanity and put them under the yoke of their oppression, we must do our part to put a stop to such a dystopian future. If you will hear my words and put serious thought to them, we may be able to do just that,” King Ferrand spoke in a grave tone, waiting for a while, trying to drum up everyone’s attention, “I propose a vote. Each of our monarchies and other forms of government hold roughly the same amount of fiefs, give or take a few. For each lord under us from noble houses both notable and irrelevant, one vote is given to the King that lords over them.”

“And this vote will achieve what, exactly, King Ferrand?” Narcisse asked for everyone in attendance.

“A High King, like in days of old, when High Rock was something to be feared and reckoned with,” He held up a hand, sensing more incessant arguing fast approaching, “This High King, while having executive powers, will have to be voted into power and will have to reach a majority vote among the monarchs to enact such powers. In turn, the High King’s word is to be followed without complaint in times of war and in matter of international politics, but your realms are yours to govern. The High King takes into account the sentiments of all of the realms under him when making decisions on the political stage.”

“And you are to be the first High King, no dou-“

“Hush, man.” Drand Duke Beralt shot a glance at Narcisse to quiet him.

“No,” He said simply, “No independent monarch may vote to keep the election fair. Instead, Pirate-Lord Ambrose will send letters to the Despot of Evermor, once a vassal-state of Wayrest with my blessing to add weight to your words, Grand Duke Beralt is to send letters to the Vice-Duke of Shornhelm, King Frithjolf is to send letters to the Earl of Farrun and I shall send letters to the Baron of Betony.”

“And what are these letters to do?” Ambrose asked, his first words in the Summit.

“These nobles will act as electors. No monarch may vote, remember this,” He said, “Prince Narcisse, take into account the skill and experience of the High King you vote for as well, for as the smallest of the Kingdoms wielding the least power, you will also be granted an electorate position, granting you a measure of power amongst your stronger brethren here,” turning to Gaius, “This is the way to a united High Rock I have dreamt of, Emperor Gaius. Through this, your most loyal Province will be whole once more and ready to defend not just its own interests, but the interests of the Empire. The voting is to start at an agreed upon time to be decided among the monarchs and heads of state after this Summit.”

Courtier Niklaus of Gradskeep, Formal Ambassador in Place of King Ferrand Bellemont of Daggerfall
Stormhold, Black Marsh
20th of Mid Year

So. This was Stormhold. These were buildings, yes, they were nothing compared to what he’d been born in in High Rock. His family were afforded a very minor holding of land in the countryside of Daggerfall and even that little spit of dirt, grass, crops and serf sweat looked better than anywhere here. Niklaus spent a lot of time holding the corner of his traveling cloak over his nose, as swamps tend to have smells worse than anything a man may give off- even dead ones, and as he smelled the bog-rot on his travels around Argonia he found that he’d take cuddling with a corpse over this. It was then when he wondered what he possibly could have done to earn an assignment such as this.

He was in the city now though. The guards didn’t give him much resistance on account of him flying the banners of Daggerfall. Though, he knew that the lizards manning the gates were unfamiliar with banners from places as far off as Daggerfall and only cared that they were banners at all. Niklaus had to grin at the kind of treatment a strip of cloth on a stick gave a man, much less the fire spitting golden lion’s head rampant on a burgundy field. Daggerfall. All of High Rock was a haven for spies and assassins but Daggerfall… Speaking of spies and assassins, he’d taken three with him, one disguised as one of ten of his men-at-arms, another being disguised as his servant-boy and another placing himself among the twenty mercenaries he’d hired along the way.

All of them were nightblades, afforded by King Ferrand Bellemont and assigned to Niklaus for spying in Cyrodiil. Niklaus had brought three of the seven given to him. He was instructed to represent all of High Rock at this summit, but his job dictated that it was indeed all of High Rock but mostly Daggerfall.

As he stepped out of the carriage once they reached the place where all of his fellow attendees seemed to be gathering, he tried his hardest to refrain from looking anything the way he was feeling about Argonia. How anything could live in this hellish place, Niklaus didn’t know.

“This is a shit place…” Niklaus mumbled oh-so-quietly to himself.

Everard III of Wayrest, Unofficial Man-at-Arms to Courtier Niklaus of Gradskeep the Insufferable Ponce
Stormhold, Black Marsh
20th of Mid Year

“This is a shit place.” Everard grumbled to Brother Mathieu.

“Yes.” He replied.

Everard took a few moments to look about from beneath the visor of his helm. He sensed them being watched from somewhere, everywhere. He knew they were, from the rumours of that Argonian with the letter that brought them to this place it wouldn’t be hard to believe that the same kind of assassins and spies that could slip through Daggerfall’s defences and leave again couldn’t find it within their skill to lean against a pillar and watch, or don a new persona and observe while selling local cuisine out of a cart. No doubt the other attendees had brought spies of their own, he knew Niklaus did that insufferable bitch. It was a good thing he’d brought his own. From the corner of his eye, something struck him first with curiosity, then recognition and knowing. He motioned for Brother Montyard and when he came, his horse clip-clopping over, he warned, “We’re being watched, but I probably didn’t have to tell you that. Any movements we make will have to be very discreet. If anything, we are only to sit and listen. If we’re barred from the chambers, Montyard, find a way in for yourself and come back to me when you can.”

One of the other men-at-arms brought themselves over, “You feel it too, huh?”

“Yes. Eyes.” Everard said, not hiding his disgust.

Everard’s brothers and the other men-at-arms made to lift their visors before Everard put an unassuming gesture out, but the rest knew what it meant and left their visors down, wordlessly agreeing. It would be quite the time in Argonia. No friends here and far from home.

“This is a shit place.” The other man-at-arms grumbled.

“Yes.” Everard grumbled in return.

Actions:
-Envoy of High Rock has arrived in Stormhold, as well as wildcard Everard III

[sandman9913]

20th of Midyear, 4E 205

Stormhold, Blackmarsh

Chief Yagurz gro-Balfaz

Yagurz inhaled the swampy air of Black Marsh, his honour guard of ten orcs in full heavy armor marching alongside him. Yagurz looked like an older orc, in fact, for male orcs he was relatively old, being in his mid-40s. He had seen many things in his time, even participated in the defense of Orsinium during the Great War...now, though, he saw this as a good time for peace, despite Umog's misgivings.

As they approached the city gates of Stormhold, Yagurz held up his fist bringing his troops to a halt. As they halted, Yagurz approached the gates, announcing himself as necessary, "I am Chief Yagurz gro-Balfaz, representative of Orsinium for the Stormhold Summit." The gates of Stormhold opened, and in marched Yagurz, alongside his honour guard.

They drifted in, catching sight of the Breton entourage. Yagurz held in his displeasure...this was going to be one long, long summit for all those involved. Particularly with the...history of High Rock and Orsinium.

---

29th of Midyear, 4E 205

Around Helgen, Skyrim

Murzol gro-Gozur, Scout

The sunlight pierced through the tree line as Murzol and his partner, Mograk, moved through the forest. They were under explicit orders from Lagash: make contact with bandit groups and send them to the Hammerfell-Skyrim border, if course, this is easier said than done.

The two orcs spotted what they figured to be the improbable: A military-style camp in the middle of the forests of Skyrim. Murzul and Mograk kept their wits about them as they moved in quietly, silently observing the camp.

Within the tents, they could clearly see what seemed to be a traditional funeral pyre, a heavily armored figure atop the meticulously constructed mountain of kindling. The sentries seemed to be slacking in their duties, most of them attending the funeral, and those who weren't seemed to be drunk, or knocking back more than a few drinks. The two of them crept in closer and closer, hearing the ending of the eulogy for the camp's leader.

"...And so, we commit Aksel Flame-Heart to Sovngarde. May his enemies and killer face the wrath of Shor. So, shall it be." With that, a Nord clad in steel lit the funeral pyre, the flames scaling high to burn the corpse...off in the distance, several other pillars of smoke rose high in the sky, indicating a similar occurrence throughout the rest of the land.

As the warriors drifted away from the pyre, the one clad in steel noticed the two orcs, "Orcs!" He shouted, clearly he was the brilliant one of them. The warriors rushed to the orcs and Murzul scowled, pulling out a piece of parchment. The group of them slowed down for a moment and one of their leaders grabbed the piece of paper, "What is this?" the Nord asked, and Murzul cleared his throat speaking loudly for the camp to hear, "Alert your allies that a meeting is being called at the Hammerfell border. All shall be revealed then." One of the warriors in the back blurted out, "What of Jartod?! What of our resistance?!" Murzul looked into the crowd and merely replied, "If you wish to fell Jartod, come to Hammerfell with your allies." With that, Murzul and Mograk disappeared into the forest once more, searching for bandits and other rogues.

---

29th of Midyear, 4E 205

Knifepoint Ridge, Skyrim

Zurog gra-Gog

Zurog, on the other hand, was not as brave as Murzol. She was a bit more...cautious, particularly around groups such as these. She had heard tales of groups such as these, and wasn't excited to become up-close and personal with them.

Slowly, she looked at the piece of parchment that she had, and speared it with one of her arrows, firing it over the wooden palisade that encased the camp and ran back into the woods, looking to return to camp with her partner and move on to other locations.

---

23rd of Midyear, 4E 205

Hammerfell-Skyrim Border

General Lagash gro-Nagrum

Lagash strolled through the camp, a company of Orsinium's finest warriors surrounding him. The lot of them were ready for the next step of the plan laid out by Burkash. With any luck, it just might work...but luck was for fools, or so Lagash figured.

The tents were laid out in a fashion similar to that of your typical Orc Stronghold, as typical as that gets. Lagash observed as the company constructed the palisade that would eventually grow to encompass the entirety of their camp. He smirked as he watched the wall begin to take some real shape, as opposed to the open clearing that had come to characterize this site.

"Remember, men!" He shouted to them, "First the palisade, then the earthworks! We won't be caught with our walls unbuilt."

Actions:
-Scouts have made contact with Bandits and Anti-Jartod rebels, sending them all to one place: the Hammerfell Border

-Lagash has established a camp on the Hammerfell border, for what purpose, however, is unknown

-The Orsinium envoy has arrived in Stormhold

[darkwolf687]

Summit at Balfiera

The Emperor nodded, somewhat in disbelief... He's believe it when he saw it, though, this could easily fall apart of they didn't honour the results, or if they just brought the votes. "It seems it is finally becoming a reality. Good luck to you all, lets hope this will be the dawn of a new age for High Rock."

Valenwood

The Legate raised an eyebrow, taking out a quill before writing quickly on a scrap of parchment

To Lord Regent Orthos

My apologies if I offended you, but if you want to come take Valenwood and my head, you will first have to go through a lot of angry Bosmer, who, it turns out, don't like you nearly as much as you seem to wish. You are quickly running out of friends, while the other races seem to be getting more tired of you with every passing moment.
I must say that I don't think you will have your title for long. I assume your King will be very disappointed once he learns you passed up the opportunity to prevent hordes of the apparently 'inferior' races from seizing Alinor. If you shall not agree to meet with me for peace terms, then it shall not be you who sees victory but us. You're outnumbered and outdone, if you want to try some poetic but overall pointless last stand, then so be it. You have managed to lose Elsweyr and Valenwood in the space of a few years, are you really willing to gamble with Alinor?
The choice is yours. You can continue to mourn your past, and be buried with it by my allies and I, or you can meet me at a table and secure yourself a future in Tamriel.

-Legate Barus

Blackmarsh

"Of course" The two said, and with their body guards walked away. Once out of an ear shot, the councilor muttered under his breath
"He tried to throw a scare into us... If I wasn't representing the Empire I'd have scorched him with a fireball..."
"Indeed, I had half the mind to call on my ancestoral spirits" The count mumbled, the Councillor cut in
"Then they are surprised when the Khajiit turn up! They're part of the Empire, did they expect them to be completely ignored?"
"Odd, to say the least"
"Well... Whar business do you have here, Count Cheydinhal?"
"There have been... Troubles in Cheydinhal. Rumours suspect Morrowind and... I believe them to have some truth in them, given the circumstances"
"Ah... So this becomes dark elf against dark elf..."
"Quite... But my family is loyal to Cheydinhal and the Empire first, we have been since before the Oblivion Crisis, and have been since. I admit I have loyalties to Morrowind, but I have duties my people and the Empire, and they come first."
"Very noble. Still, it will be interesting to see how their representative reacts to being set upon by one of his own"
"I think be would be displeased I hadn't come home, so to speak."
"So what exactly happened in Cheydinbal?" The count took a long breath before beginning to describe it to the councillor

Morrowind

The three penitus Oculatus had mostly been watching for now, but their aims were quite simple. It was a primitive revenge plan. At one of the small villages closer to the Black Marsh border, the three snuck a sample of hist sap into the main water supply, before slipping away from the village and into the night, presumably before being seen. They assumed the chaos that they hoped would ensue might lead to the village blaming the Argonians, who would in turn deny everything and increase tensions. If those two were at each others throats, the pressure would be somewhat alleviated on the legion in Cheydinhal, and should the Legion ever get permission to invade Morrowind, it would be much easier to do if Morrowind was already trying to fight the Argonians

Elsweyr

Given the lack of progress on the front of peaceful conversion, the Governor Militant has instead invited both the North and South to a meeting, with the intention of finding a suitable compromise between the status quo and full blown independence, believing that the latter is unacceptable to the north and the former unacceptable to the south. He has also placed bounties on the heads of the pirates plaguing the south.

[POOPHEAD189]

Stormhold, Black Marsh
20th of Midyear, 4E 205
Stalks-The-Stars and "S'arah"

---

"Come, Lady Khajiit. I would discuss your prescence here further, less I am forced to revoke the right."

The Argonian led the Cat-folk towards a nearby inn, producing several gold coins and purchasing access to a room. No doubt there would be rumours about the strange precautions that the Argonian was undertaking, but the animosity between Argonian and Khajiit would probably dispel any of the more risque rumours.

When the door was closed behind the pair, the Argonian was the first to speak.

"You are not Khajiit. Lord Hircene has taught me the smell and taste of all the prey Tamriel has to offer, and you smell like none of it. Who are you, and what is your purpose here?"

Surprised by the Argonian's sudden inquiry, S'arah knew she was in for one difficult explanation.

"I- This one is only part Khajiit," the tigress lied. Stopping for a brief moment, she searched for the best possible excuse. "S'arah was born under a rare alignment of moons, a difficult concept for outsiders to grasp. Most of my life were spent on ships and islands, hence my unfamiliarity with the land of Tamriel."

Knowing that by dragging the conversation longer, she would eventually run out of fictitious stories. Taking another pulse, she went to counter the lizard. "Do you truly understand the presences of all preys, my lord? I have doubts for Hircine's teachings, the daedra are truly unpredictable ones."

The Argonian smiled as his quarry stuttered. He was right about the scent. "So which is it, were you born part Khajiit, or were you born under a special alignment of moons?" He looked in the tigress' eyes, toothy grin showing off the razor sharp fangs of the lizard-folk. "And as far as I recall: I never questioned your unfamiliarity with Tamriel." The grin turned into a chuckle, mostly at the Tigress' expense.

The chuckle ended when she questioned the teaching of Hircine. His fist clenched at the audacity of the Tigress, but he managed to settle himself quickly enough. "You would do well to not insult the lord of the hunt: lest you make yourself prey." There was a temptation, to be sure, for an aggressive show of force, however he couldn't really afford to explain to his people why their lord was throttling a Cat in the guise of a twelve foot tall bipedal crocodile. "No, I am certain you are not Khajiit, and that intrigues me: because no one else has noticed yet. Why do you attend this summit, strange one?"

Frustrated by the Argonian's inquiry, S'arah was tempted draw her dagger. By the looks of the lizard's armor, she knew that she was under-armed for this fight. From his repeated mentioning of Hircine and his beast-like expressions, the lord of Stormhold gave off auras of werecreatures. But just as like a double edge sword, the perks of being a werecreature cut both ways.

"I am not what a normal Khajiit is. Though I could try to explain, few would understand." S'arah continued. "Just like me, I have no doubt that you, my lord, have secrets as well. No matter what I am, I represent the free people of southern Elsweyr. But what of you? Would your people fare very well knowing their lord is a follower of daedra?"

Satisfied with her response, S'arah decided to end this conversation. "If you will excuse me, the journey had worn out my stamina and a private room should be in order." Looking out the window, she pointed to the gate, where several groups of foreigners now gathered. "I believe you also have businesses to attend to, my lord."

"My people would care little for my Daedric connections. As for worship, you are even more unaware of my people than I suspected."

The urge to cleave the Cat-folk's head off was growing, as she continued her blatant display of unwarranted arrogance. For the second time, she assumed his unintelligent in as small a time as a minute."However, I am sure the other representatives would be unappeased by the news of my affiliation.with the lord of hunters."

He turned to look through the window, over at the few representatives who were making their way through his gate. He would have to deal with them, for sure. He also knew the Altmer representative would arrive soon. A group he and his father had particular interest in: desperate allies made the truest of alliances. "I suppose we should probably part, as you suggest. It is a shame though, if you were some mysterious agent who had infiltrated Southern Eleswyr's hierarchy, I would have enjoyed discussing a...lucrative agreement between the two of us. You would make a fine ruler, if you don't mind me saying."

He turned towards the day, slowly turning the handle so as to give her a time to pull him back. Would she take the bait? Would she stop him leaving?

These Argonians, or at least this individual, demonstrated much more intelligence than the tigress expected. If her mission was her own decision, she would probably have further dialogue with him. However, S'arah wasn't ready to deviate from Abasi-Kil's original orders. The general spoke of no alliances, after all, the lizard might just be bluffing.

"I believe it would be time for us to part ways, for now" S'arah concluded. Maybe, when she acquired more information, they could actually have grounds to negotiate on. But the present time is not the right time, for the next few days should be devoted to observations. "However, we could have further dialogues...in the future."

[Hyperdrive]

Oravos the Nerevarine
Island of Kiryat

The lone ship carrying Oravos and his men, finally arrived at Kiryat. The ship, unlike the ones in service of the army, was decorated by gold and ivory, making it a sight to be seen when it docked near the white sand shores of the island. The Dunmer crew observed the Akaviri on the land while they began to prepare Oravos' belongings for the meeting. Everyone was silent as they move around the deck, that even the faint waves of the sea can be heard colliding with the wooden husk of the ship.

"The men are ready Muthsera." Says one of Oravos' servants, carrying the bottle of Ancient Dagoth Brandy to be gifted to Abasi-Kil. "I'll be there in a second.." a masked voice says through the wooden door that separates the king's cabin from the deck. Gone were the days of Oravos where he could casually wear a simple robe to attend a meeting. Now his position dictates him to dress according to his position, so that he won't compromise the authority of the people he represents.

When Oravos stepped out of the cabin, everyone on deck turned their heads away from the work they were doing, and watched their king take his steps towards the ramp. Oravos was seen to be wearing an exquisitely detailed set of Daedric armor, gifted by the True-Tribunal gods when he rebuilt Morrowind. He also wore the Dwemeric gauntlet called Wraithgaurd on his left hand, while on his right was the ring called Moon-and-Stars, all proofs of his identity and accomplishments.

Upon reaching the sandy beach, the Sentinels along with Oravos' trusted servants, followed him as he head towards the Akaviri camp. With every step they took, the Dunmer escorts grew nervous, not because they weren't confident if they ever face the Akaviri in a fight, but because of the images they painted in their minds, of what the Akaviri might look like.

---

Ildoryn Sarano
Stormhold

Strolling along the market street was Ildoryn and four of his guards. The small party stopped at every stall in the market, occasionally buying goods whenever Ildoryn see's something he likes. Eventually, their journey in the market made one of his guards carry a small crate with the goods Ildoryn bought. It wasn't something a royal guard should do, but in times like these, only the royal guards can be trusted, even with trivial matters like carrying a crate. The entire market experience was almost pleasant, if not for the Argonian citizens that glared at them like they were uncivilized savages.

Upon passing through the city gates, Ildoryn's attention was distracted by the group of Altmer that arrived. He examined each one of the Altmer before nodding respectfully to one of them that caught his gaze. The group then proceeded to go back to the rooms they were given, but only three from the original escorts arrived.

--- Outside the city ---

Just outside the city walls was a portion of Ildoryn's guard detail, assigned to protect the silt strider transport. Three of the soldiers was standing on top of the silt strider, watching over the entire area. "You saw them?" a guard asks the other. "One is watching us right now, third tree from the south." the other guard says through the mask, while looking elsewhere, not to make the Shadowscale watching them suspicious. The Sentinels were a keen bunch, being raised on the ashlands of Vvardenfell. An ashlander that did not develop strong instincts, always ended up as blight creature's dinner.

One of the three soldiers dropped from the silt strider through a rope, and welcomed the guard that was previously with Ildoryn. "Here's some fresh food, potions and stuff the Lord bought." The guard says. "Tell sera he has out gratitude.. oh.. and give him this." The soldier says before subtly sliding a roll of paper to the guard's hand. The guard then leaves the group to their duties, and heads to Ildoryn's chambers.

---

Alinor, Summerset Isle

The group of agents from Morrowind finally arrived at Alinor, along with the Dominion officers they saved when the Imperials seized Valenwood. The group of Dunmer didn't speak much, and only explained the reason of their presence in the capital. When the dock officials approved their approach, the crew docked their ship, and unloaded the Dominion soldiers. When the crew finished unloading the cargo, without saying any further explanations, they left. The last seen direction of the ship was towards the east.

---

Morrowind

News of a village massacre in the Morrowind-Black Marsh border reached the capital, and raised the attention of the Great House Councilors residing there. According to the Redoran patrol that inspected the village, the villagers attacked each other in a frenzy, leaving only one survivor from the massacre. The survivor's testimony about the incident before he passed away, posed a possible involvement of the Argonians. The survivor claimed to "slay" multiple goblins, only to realize later that its the village people that he killed. The public didn't react much to the event as a law regarding the evacuation of the southern lands was already passed years before, leaving the villages that remained stubborn, responsible for their own safety. Nonetheless, to assure the public's safety, an increased amount of border patrols was assigned, along with the strict enforcement of the evacuation in the southern lands.

---

Valus Mountains

Upon Oravos' orders in Mournhold, a group of heavily armed Ordinators from the Order of War was sent to the "tipped" hideout of the "cultists" of Cheydinhal. Due to the over confidence of the agents, the entrance was left unguarded, which made easy entry for the Ordinators. An agent managed to spot the Ordinators entering the place, but didn't respond, assuming that they were sent by Oravos. The Ordinators immediately ran towards the agent spears first, which confused the agent about whats going on. Only managing to scream, the agent soon found himself impaled by three spears on the chest. The scream alerted the agents inside, causing them to respond to what was going on. A fighting ensued when the Ordinators continued to assault the agents within the cave.

The Ordinators suffered heavy casualties, but not for long, all of the agents were killed. The Ordinators then moved to the prison cells to free the captives who were all unable to speak. The Dark Elf captives cried upon seeing the uniforms of their rescuers, while the Imperial ones remained oblivious to what it meant. The Ordinators then proceeded to gather the bodies and and burn them, before casting spells inside the cave, causing the cave to collapse on itself. After dealing with the cave, the group of Ordinators rounded up the survivors, and began to walk towards Cheydinhal.

[darkwolf687]

An... What... Hang on did...

The Legate of the legion in Cheydinhal was quick to give orders to set up the defenses and prepare for an assault upon hearing of Ordinators... But when the Ordinators arrived with the captives in tow, apparently not against their own will, the Legate himself became confused. As such, his men remained on stand by and didn't attack. The counts son was just ad confused. The Legion had been up at arms against Morrowind, but it didn't appear the captives were being herded by the point of a weapon. He was the first of the two to regather his wits and called out from atop the gatehouse
"Ordinators? And are those .. Please, explain yourselves at once!" He challenged, the Legate came to peer over the wall again but remained silent and solemn as he did. Was this an assault... No, it wouldn't make sense to bring prisoners with you on an assault. Which left the possibility that he had been wrong about Morrowind.
Which wasn't an acceptable alternative either. By the mind this had become a mess, a disaster... An embarrassment for the legion and now... He contemplated jumping from the ramparts right there and then to escape the shame his inadequate command of the garrison had brought to the legion and himself.

[Hyperdrive]

Cheydinhal

The Ordinators stood their ground when they were halted before the gatehouse. Their armors were battered and bloodied, showing signs that they were in a fight recently before they came to the town. One of the Ordinators moved infront of the others, explaining their presence in Imperial land. "We are sent by our order to support the Imperial's effort on the cultist kidnappings on our shared border. It is our duty to support your cause for it is our kin that was put in danger with these attacks." The Ordinator says before removing his helmet, revealing a fresh bleeding scar by his cheeks. He then lifts his hands and motions the captives to move forward towards the gate. "These people experienced hell in the hands of their captors, they deserve a hearty meal and a days rest." Once the former captives were before the gates, the Ordinator officer moved back to the rest of his men and said. "Its best we take our leave, our order will be eager to hear our report." The men then started to march back towards Morrowind without looking back.

[Prince Potter]

22nd of Midyear
Alinor, summerset Isles, Capital of the Dominion.
Lord Regent Orthos of the Royal Fleet

The Lord Regent once more stood on the Docks, with the familiar lower tier merchant. He was sweating, and appeared nervous. Yet the Regent stood as calm and collected as ever, and patiently nodded for the merchant to continue what he was saying.

“Ships of Aldmeri quality take considerably longer to craft than those Imperials logs. We’ve had little trouble finding the supplies or workers for it, but the Arcane Society has yet to send any of their Mages to perform their standard enchantments on the sails and hulls. They say they have been too busy as of late to send anyone. I just don’t see how we will having anything more than a small force of ships ready by the time the High King returns.”

Orthos shrugged nonchalantly and nodded in affirmation to the merchant.

“I will go to the Crystal Tower and check up on the progress of its reconstruction, and speak with the Arch-Mage about sending you some Enchanters.” The Merchant bowed to the Regent and thanked him, before scuttling off to oversee the construction of additional ships. Orthos was about to turn and leave the docks when a strange sight caught him on the horizon; a Elven ship marred with scorch blasts and arrows sailed towards the Isles, though it was not Altmer.

From this great distance Orthos could not make out more, and quickly turned to a guardmen standing next to him, asking to go and get Lord-General Walden Estermont of the Renshi. Though Walden was a man, and thus inferior, he too had his strengths, and would deal with this strange ship on the horizon. Orthos had more important matters.
He turned and left the docks after sending word for Walden to prepare men to meet their visitors. The Lord Regent mounted his horse of pure white and rode hard to the Crystal Tower, finding it’s construction near completion. The original Crystal Tower only had five floors, while this one would have eight. The first five floors were completed and currently being used by the Society. Yet as the old and respected Altmer dismounted his horse, he found the Arch-Mage making his way outside to meet him, one of his Mages carrying a strange ornate box.

The Arch-Mage wore robes of a deep sapphire, given only to the upper caste of Mages at the Society. Both of the Mages to flanking him wore robes of yellow, indicating they were researchers and not trained for battle nor healing.

“Lord Regant Orthos, what a surprise to see you here on such short notice! I was hoping you would drop by soon, I’m afraid we have might quiet the astonishing discoveries. Our research has been developing faster than we had ever hoped; though I’m afraid we’ve hit a obstacle. Come, I will show you what I mean.”

The Arch-Mage and the Lord Regent both had similar shades of platinum silver hair, though Orthos would be considered in his mid-thirties to Men, the Arch-Mage was quiet obviously near the end of his life, and had learned much of the Arcane in his time. They sat down wordlessly within a meeting chamber within the tower, and Orthos swore he could feel the Magick in his blood thrum happily when he stepped inside such a heavily enchanted place. The room was dim, with only a single glow globe suspended in the air over the great glass desk. Orthos spoke first;

“I’m afraid it is simply mandatory you send some Enchanters to the Docks to work on the current fleet. I wish for Aelid to return home with more ships than he knows what to do with.”

The Arch-Mage frowned slightly and nodded, affirming it would be done. Yet As the reserachers began to open the box, the Arch-Mage spoke.

“We discovered atop Eton Nir a ruin of a city, much like Cloudrest. They say it was left by the original Aldmer. I must say, in all my years of Arcane Study, I had never seen such a thing. We dug at it for months, and discovered a ruin that we only recently translated.” He raised a small chipped seemingly golden tablet from the box, and handed it to Orthos.

The Lord Regent inspected it carefully, and found he could not read what was engraved in it, though the carvings were elegant and graceful in flow. He found all of this fascinating, but wondered how it helped the Dominion.

“I bet your wondering how any of this helps the Dominion.” The Arch-Mage spoke with a small smile and a twinkle in his old eyes. He looked at the researchers and various members in attendance and turned back to Orthos.

“I will write you a letter before you leave, instructing you on the specifics on what we’ve found and what you must do for the Dominion.”

Orthos did not like being ordered about, but the Arcane Society was indeed powerful, and they mustn’t bicker if they are to have any hope of survival. He nodded in agreement. Yet as the Admiral of the Royal Fleet began to rise, the Arch-Mage spoke again;

“There is only one last thing that we found in those ruins atop the mountain.” The old Altmer slowly stood up, his old age waring on him, and he raised a scroll of immense power out of the box.

“An Elder Scroll.” Orthos breathed wordlessly, as his eyes landed on the rather large scroll, native neither to this space nor time. It was bound shut tightly, and seemed to vibrate with secrets both large and small.

“We have no way of reading or opening the scroll, but we are placing it on the top level of the Crystal Tower, to be enchanted and sealed away until the time is right and we may use it for its purpose. It will be well guarded, Lord Regent.”

Orthos felt a cold shiver run down his spine, and he wondered how Aelid dealt with the pressures of running the Dominion on the daily. He supposed some mer were just made to design a heavier load than others. He nodded wordlessly to the Arch-Mage and turned, leaving the Crystal Tower only after receiving a letter marked with the symbol of the Arcane Society. His mind was abuzz with the strange golden tablet, and the elder scroll. He had completely forgotten about…

22nd of Midyear
Alinor, Summer Isles, Capital of the Dimonion.
Lord-General Walden Estermont

The imperial man walked with a brisk pace, kept even only by his trained and ready Renshi. Each of them was born and bred for war, yet not in the same way as the Nords of Sykrim. None of them had herculean muscles or huge Warhammers. Theirs was a more graceful way of combat, called Twin Blade fighting by some, and Dagger Dancing by others, it was the Ace in the Dominion’s pocket that Aelid developed during his rebellion.

Yet as this elite group of soldiers made their way to the docks, they found a Dunmer ship dropping anchor in port. Walden saw that the ship had obviously been fired upon heavily by someone, and his hands immediately dropped both to the sword and dagger at his belt. He approached the ship carefully, and saw the gleam of Thalmor armor aboard the ship.

“What is your purpose here, Dunmer?” Called Walden from the Dock.

“We have rescued several Dominion Officers, as well as a handful of troops.” Spoke a unnamed Ash-faced elf aboard the ship.

“We would be most grateful.” Walden spoke, impressed by the aid of these people. Perhaps the situation wasn’t as grim as he thought, if the Dunmer would still care to rescue Thlamor forces. Yet as the Dominion Officers crossed the gangplank from boat to Dock, Walden was caught up in seeing who had survived. Before he knew it, or had a chance to thank these saviors, the Dunmer had set sail once more.

Actions
-Enchantments for the New Fleet!
-Discovery of a Elder Scroll and Aldmer Ruin!
-Dominion Officers and Soldiers returned to Alinor!