Alfhedil

The Elder Scrolls: In the Shadows of Oblivion [Closed]

Alright so, that took a bit and honestly way too long. As had been discussed a little over the discord, and will be elaborated on again there momentarily, life has been a little rough for the GM team of late. On my part mostly through fighting a personal battle with Dell, the Daedric Prince of shitty customer service. However, we are now officially in combat and with that I feel like the RP can be moving a little more smoothly. All I'll ask is that we continue to be courteous with our posts and not leave anyone behind, other than that cultists are cultists lol.

The Elder Scrolls: In the Shadows of Oblivion [Closed]

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Paradise.

The image lingered in his mind as he knelt among the gathering, his brothers and sisters moving about as their divine plan was unfolding around them. Red robes billowed back and forth, whispers into communication stones and whispers back. From the general attitude of most, he could see that more and more reports of their success were reaching this small core of the most devout. All across Tamriel the accursed dragon's blood had been snuffed out, the entire lineage burning root and stem. One by one they crossed names off their lists, marked vellum on the wall to show one more dead Septim. All through the efforts of devoted followers like himself. The dim light of the underground chamber illuminated a chiseled aquiline visage, chips and cracks in the way of scars earned over a lifetime of fighting for those who cared nothing for him. That was a lesson harshly learned, a cold pain in his chest from an old wound that had ended his career.

But if it had not been for his service in the Legions… If not for those like their brother Eldamil, or so many others living and working within the broken system there would be no way to finally put an end to this false existence. No way to end the tyranny of the so-called "Divines". He clenched his fists in his lap, remembering the campaigns to quell what he had been told were rebellions and revolts, but were just the oppressed finally standing for themselves against their Septim masters.

Calm.

Slowly breathe in and out. The Master had taught him of how he had been lied to for his entire life, of how his family had been led astray and the truth of his lineage and the purpose of all mortal life on this so-called mundus. And now the dream was being realized. The chains were breaking. Soon, perhaps even within hours, the falsity of mortal life would be laid bare to all upon Tamriel and the truth of the Aedra's betrayal would be revealed to all. Already there were cracks forming in the Empire as news of the assassinations spread. Many of their agents in Skyrim had reported of violence spreading in the streets of Solitude as a distant cousin of the Emperor was found broken upon the cobblestone. Some had been caught and quite literally torn apart by the angry Nords, but elsewhere the reactions had been more muted. Images of a silent banquet held in a dim room with only a few red robes among dozens of black and gold, all quietly raising a glass to an emblem of an eagle with upraised wings and the beginning of a new era. He allowed the images to fade from his mind, giving a slow nod to one of the telepaths within the room and returning his attention back to the task at hand. The Master had to be informed, and it was upon him to do so.

Paradise.

As he closed his eyes and attuned his mind to the currents of the aetherius, he remembered the words of the Master and the truths given to him and all his brothers and sisters in the faith. The crackle of torches and the cold of stone began to fade, a gentle light calling to him as it always did since that very first moment he had been gifted with a visit to Gaiar Alata. Verdant forests cresting in the far distance, towers of white stone reaching up into a sky of perpetual near-twilight hues, and endless golden fields stretching between only broken by modest wooden homes. It was a call to home, a reminder not just of where he came from but what he worked towards in the name of the Master and the greater plan. He awoke as he always did, looking up at the warm tones of near-sunset and sparse clouds drifting lazily above, the sounds of others nearby drew him to come to his feet and he could see the hazy after-image of other souls tending to a fresh harvest of grain. Two he knew to be his own parents, long passed and the ones who had brought him to his faith. They waved to him with a genuine joy to greet their son, and though he nodded to them in greeting, he had a task at hand that he needed to see to.

"Mantori."

Another's voice drew him to regard another soul, this one present in full physical form and not just in an altered state as many of the followers were. He was there in truth, either invited by the Master personally or elevated after death.

"Brother Eldamil." He returned, giving a bow as he had come to know and respect the Altmeri man well in the last few years while working with him in the Imperial City. "To what do I owe this honor? Are you here to update the Master as well?"

"No."

There was a sense of finality in that response that had him feeling ill at ease, a strange foreboding at hand. While Eldamil worked above him within the faith and had often personally spoken with the Master and received orders from him, the plan was supposed to see him dealing with the granddaughters in the palace and then immediately heading towards Kvatch to head the next stages of the plan. The fact that he was here in Paradise physically and not projecting… That sat at odds with him, but all he did was nod simply towards the elven man.

"Very well, I will leave you to your own duties. I must go now to inform the Master of-"

One moment he was speaking casually to his brother in the faith, the gentle warmth of the eternal light of Paradise shining down on him, and the next he found himself unable to. Though his jaw moved and his body made the physical motions, no sound left his lips. Not even air. A stillness surrounded him as the golden hues began to dull, the clouds gathering and a darkness falling upon all he could see. The other followers who had been all around him and Eldamil simply faded away into the background until it was only those two and a looming presence looking down upon them. The Master. He could feel his presence as the master of this plane, omnipresent in all ways, but now more so than ever.

Though he tried to speak again, he was sent to his knees by a sudden and intense pressure bearing down on him. As if the air itself around him had become tangible and an unbearable weight. There his eyes were forced downwards, but all for the better as he felt another far darker, more terrible presence just beyond that of the Master… Perhaps even his own looking in to judge them all. The information was ripped from his mind with little care for the damage done in the process, images of dozens slain across Tamriel and the Dragon's Blood running freely as one by one the lineage was trimmed. One by one the names that had been crossed off, each and every potential heir to the Dragonfires and each one bearing the potential to reignite them if they were to be snuffed out. And though all of this was according to plan, and all of this near guaranteed the ushering in of a new era, he felt the rage in the great beyond and his Master's silent disappointment as their failures were made clear.

The Emperor himself yet lived, as did his granddaughters and others who had somehow been warned. All those years of building, planning and making sure the right people would be in the right place at any given time, and now just as his Master's plan was to be set in motion, it had gone awry. Before him Eldamil sneered down at him, though it had been his task alone to deal with the Septim women. Even as the thought glanced across his mind he felt the disappointment even more terrible and oppressive around him, as if verging on punishing him for daring to blame another for his failures. But he knew where they were… Those last reports had come in that the Septim women were garrisoned on the prison island and surrounded by the Legion. The Emperor himself had fled into tunnels beneath the island and already had been spotted by some of their agents. There was still a way to ensure the plan succeeded.

But his Master was still not pleased, and for a brief fleeting moment he had been given an image of what failure would mean. All around him flames roared into life, the screams of the damned calling from towering bastions of black stone, rivers of molten lava splitting the lands that had once been so verdant and plentiful. Countless agents of the Aedra on the march and in the skies above the laughter of dark thirsting gods, the final image as his own flesh began to burn was that of his wife turning to look upon him with equal parts disappointment and hate before catching alight herself…

When he opened his eyes next there was only the sounds of the torches crackling on the walls around him, a stillness as slowly his consciousness returned to the mundus. His brothers and sisters of the faith looked upon him with a mix of terror and reverence, waiting in silence for the words of their Master. He struggled to gather the words, the taste of ash on his tongue and feeling parched from that unnatural heat. It was a strange sensation to be burned alive but only in an aetherial sense. But stranger still he felt a weight in his hands, and looked down to see what truly terrified his fellows. A dagger sat across his lap, simple in design but reflecting a damned hellscape with the dim light shining upon it. The crescent shape of the handle was a clear sign of what the weapon truly was, a tool to enact his Master's plan.

"The Master… He has spoken." Gaius Mantori spoke at last, closing his eyes for a moment to gather his slowly replenishing strength to guide those around him. "The Emperor cowers within the sewers and tunnels of the Imperial City, trying desperately to keep the amulet out of our grasp. Yet we cannot rely on the deaths of the dragon's blood alone anymore." A quiet murmuring of assent came from those surrounding, some looking into his muted hazel eyes, others fixed upon the dagger now clutched in his right hand. "Send signals to all within the city and on the isles themselves. The faithful are to focus all efforts on killing the dragon's blood sheltering on the prison isle, as well as take the Temple of the One. I will personally oversee the siege of the temple, while our Master has taken interest in the Emperor himself."

There needed to be no further instruction, as the moment he stood, all around him moved into action and soon it was just him alone in the room looking down at the dagger. The final images of his wife catching alight shone upon the blade, a reminder of all he worked for…

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Meanwhile…

Slowly the darkness crept in around the two armoured men, the footsteps and voices of the group behind them fading just like the light. The Breton led the way, one hand on the Akaviri blade at his hip, the other lifting up and casting a magelight to illuminate the path ahead. His companion, the Redguard was similarly cautious with a hand on his own blade, carefully surveying their surroundings as they moved from the narrow corridor and into another annex with a single door leading deeper into the sewers. That was their destination for the moment, but there was the concern of the room at hand. Above were high vaulted archways with alcoves and small ports leaking in fading moonlight. Both men glanced up to the alcoves, scanning them and noting the wavering shadows clinging to the walls.

It was too silent, almost artificial as they swept the room and initially found it secure. At the ground level where they stood, there was only one open way in and out, the door ahead of them effectively a wall at the moment. Baurus was the first to notice the lurking danger, that tension that had been looming and clinging to them with every step out of the Imperial City and towards potential safety. A strange crawling sensation along the back of his neck as he swept his gaze across the shadows in the corners of the room and at last realized why they felt so uneasy to linger on. He tapped a pair of fingers against the hilt of his sheathed blade, softly enough not to be heard or seem obvious, but Glenroy noticed. "Enemies" He watched the motion of the other man's hand, signing in discreet cant. "Cloaked. A dozen, perhaps more."

And then there came the sound of the approaching prisoners, Renault and the Emperor embedded within the group. This stirred the shadows around them, and both men knew that if they did not act now then the ambush would be sprung and everyone behind them would be caught off guard. Myriad scenarios flashed through their minds as to how such an ambush could go, but both knew that the best possible outcome would come of springing it early and aggressively. It was just as the first of the group stepped foot into the annex that Baurus suddenly stepped to his left in tandem with Glenroy stepping to the right, breaking their impromptu formation and drawing their blades in a savage upwards arc against what at first looked to be merely empty air. But empty air did not scream in agony and defiance. Empty air did not bleed red.

Twin arcs of red painted the walls and ceiling to either side of that door at the end of the room, bodies crumpling to the floor as their spells of cloaking dissipated along with the daedric masks and conjured weapons. Renault stood at the last step with the Emperor behind her and the other two masked Blades behind him. For one long fraction of a second she met the eyes of Baurus and Glenroy, silence dominating that space between them until she also drew her blade and bellowed the battlecry. "Blades to arms! Defend your Emperor!" And the moment her blade left its scabbard, dozens of masked forms descended from the alcoves above, screaming their own cries of paradise and praise to their dark god.

The Elder Scrolls: In the Shadows of Oblivion [Closed]

@Hank Yeah, I got no qualms whatsoever about Hector. A fine addition to the party, and perhaps some much needed faith in the Nine to guide us on the journey ahead. Feel free to shift him over to the characters tab and work on a post at your convenience.

The Elder Scrolls: In the Shadows of Oblivion [Closed]

_{Direct mentions: @BurningCold@Kazemitsu}

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As her brother returned to the group and allowed everyone to collect their belongings, Khaliya slipped in between some of the others to presumably get her own things. Though really as her hands moved in the box as if searching, she was just leaving the few items she had among the rest. A mostly empty coinpurse among them, as well as a worn leather wallet and some smaller things that may or may not have belonged to her fellow rioters. Part of her felt a little bad for taking advantage of the violence earlier, especially for the part that her sister played in it. Though some of the others from the bar had seemed all too ready to indulge in the brawl.

Her part in things done, she stepped back and adjusted her clothes a little as it seemed the Blades were getting ready to move and some of the others as well. She could also feel a bit of the lingering tension, the looming sense that something was wrong and about to get even worse. It was in the air, in the cold of the stone and among her with the others as they too felt the shift. Idle conversation that had been a little more casual started to shift towards the dark of the stairway before them and the next chamber. Some mild tension among them as their varied cultures and beliefs started to grind against each other. And that was when Yashar stepped in as he tended to do, always being a guiding voice for herself and those around him through their adventures since leaving home.

"Talos willing, we will see the light of day soon enough" He began, taking hold of his amulet of the Nine with his right hand and looking towards the departing Blades. "I understand your desire to fight, the need for challenge but take care of those around us who may not be as keen, or capable. The Nine will provide for us and the Emperor, so long as we hold true." A hand came to rest on the shoulder of both Argonians in turn, though as he turned to the Shadowscale still fussing with his daggers, Yashar paused and just gave a slow solemn nod to the strange lizard.

"Well, I certainly don't mind a bit more of a boring walk out of here." Khaliya stepped in to take the place of her brother as he walked over to speak with the masked Blades and offer a prayer to the Nine with them. "I think a few of us got more than enough excitement out of the bar than expected… Weren't you in the arena fight earlier too?" Again those silver eyes flashed up at the Argonian she had spent probably at least an hour pestering in the cell, her curiosity clear as a woman out of the desert and now among the green and stone of Cyrodiil. "Getting out of here without trouble, you could always say now that you fought alongside the Blades and protected the Emperor himself. I'm sure a lot of people would be very interested in that, yes?"

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_{Direct mentions: @LC}

Without anything to retrieve from the lockbox, Roshanara was left mostly alone with her thoughts of before and what was to come. The musty cold sunk into her bones through the poor insulation of cloth, a gruff displeasure showing that she was one of those who did not take kindly to being trapped underground either. It didn't seem anyone else was keen on speaking with her for now though, as they mostly milled about each other with their casual conversations that she feigned her own disinterest in. Not that she blamed them of course, she had been one of the more aggressive parties in the brawl likely to have caused a fair few injuries among those present and most assuredly one very badly beaten Altmer. She had been used to such things by now, so she quietly worked to still the brewing rage always just under the surface. Calm, slow breathing. In and out. It helped that for now everyone was focused more on the darkness ahead of them, a potential battle at hand and the danger to the Emperor.

That drew her attention to the man himself. Such a frail and old human, not the image she had always pictured of one of the Septims. The man looked as if he was a breath away from death already, even with how closely his guards stuck to him. Out in the far wilds of the provinces and the less civilized regions of Tamriel such a man would not have lived for long, but with the benefits of Cyrodillic life and the protections of such a station there was little danger under normal circumstances. These not being normal circumstances didn't escape her, nor did the danger that her sister and these others had been unknowingly pressed into. She shifted from her position nearing the edges of the group and looked towards the others for a moment, doing her best to see where she should be in case a battle broke out in these cramped quarters. The Blades were close to their Emperor and their captain staying within the center of the group unwilling to move them as of yet, with two of their number having already moved to head down the stairs.

The Cathay-Raht loomed over many of their group, but seemed eager to get stuck in all the same. His enthusiasm was almost contagious, and for a moment she could feel the war-wind stirring within her chest as if relishing the chance to spill blood and shatter bones. All it took was a glance back towards the others and seeing Khaliya staying close to the Argonians to know that she was in a safer position in the case of an ambush, so instead she lingered more towards the front and alongside the larger Khajiit. A strange sensation to have to look up to another, but she gave the man a slow nod as she adjusted the shackles still on her wrists, the chains dangling and already she could see how they could be used in combat. With the two of them at the front and the Argonians at the back, there would be little risk to the others of their group, and at least for her it meant a greater chance at being able to properly let loose.

The Elder Scrolls: In the Shadows of Oblivion [Closed]

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Above, within the Bastion

A pair of heavy wooden chests sat before the pair as chaos roiled around them, shouting voices, the sounds of combat beyond in the courtyard and the ever so distant burning of a city. Yet the pair stood there looking at the contents arrayed before them. Much of it was rather mundane, the expected belongings of those merely out on the town even on a night such as this. A few coinpurses with strings tied to them and labeled with names and times of seizure, some more elaborate and finely crafted wallets with much the same identifying marks. There were pouches and bags, a few suspect items here and there, and of course a small sack of white powder that had been placed in a separate lockup. "Say, as a priest…" The Imperial Allian began, a sidelong glance to the not so clean-shaven half-orc beside him. "You uh… Think this warrants a conversation with the divines?" To his credit, Yashar contemplated the merits of doing so, though the both of them knew that the Nine did not interfere in the trivial matters of mortals.

"Perhaps." He said at last, rubbing a hand across his chin as the two considered the bandolier and belt before them sleeved with what had to be at least a dozen assorted daggers. "What does someone even do with this many knives? I understand the Emperor himself has pardoned those of us caught in the riots, but…" The two men shut the chests one after the other, each taking one in both hands and starting the rather awkward route back down into the cells. "Though only the divines may know the answer to such a question, Allian, I think it only right and fair that they be returned all the same." Yashar returned, careful to not sound too judgmental on the subject at hand, though also avoiding going into a sermon just yet. "Perhaps our friend the Argonian shadowscale has his reasons, and be they combat or collecting it is his right as a free citizen of the Empire to do so." One step after the other, they dodged other Legionnaires moving through the Bastion and the occasional Blade executing the orders of the Septims still alive on the island. "That aside…" He continued, sharing a glance downwards at the red-robed body slumped over a chair. "I think we could do with a few more blades in the hands of allies."

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Meanwhile,

Outwardly the captain of the Blades stared down the Cathay-Raht even as he leaned in to look her directly in the eyes, remaining stoic in her duty to protect her Emperor no matter the cost to herself or those around her. Perhaps it was a poor choice on her part to remind him of his failure even unintentionally so, but she was firm in showing that her intention was only to try and show him the respect she felt he deserved. "Very well then, Kiffar the Unbound." Renault said at last, giving him a slow nod to show she understood well his intentions. And though she went immediately back to directing the Blades under her command… Internally there was still that moment of wondering if she had very nearly died right then and there. She couldn't deny the rather distinct panic welling up in the moment of being that close to a very incensed Cathay-Raht, and the also very distinct understanding that he did not need weapons to rend steel. Thankfully for her nerves, there were two points of interest to draw her attention and that of Kiffar.

Off to the side Yashar al-Rihad the half-Orsimer priest and the officer of the watch had returned with both strongboxes loaded with the belongings of the prisoners. They were sure to see that the appropriate items were returned to their rightful owners, and she did note the distinct midnight-blue color of the Shadowscale shifting off to the side and inspecting his weapons. Another Argonian of a much greener shade was similarly heavily armed, and quite quickly the ragtag group of rioters seemed more akin to a collection of adventurers gathered within the aging passageway. Renault did her best not to openly sneer at the thought of having to rely upon these people, but she was pragmatic enough to recognize that her squad alone may not be able to get their charge safely out of the city on their own. So far these cultists, these assassins to be had shown quite the planning and cunning to have gone so far. Much of it had apparently been achieved by the presence of at least one among the higher echelons of Imperial society, and she had to begrudgingly accept that it was Caddach Thraigyr of all people who had brought it to the attention of the Blades.

Helped of course by exceeding incompetence, arrogance or both on the account of the would-be assassin. Though as the group coalesced into smaller groups of minor conversation, she looked towards the next moves for herself and the Blades under her command. Just down the stairs nearby, the depths of the Imperial sewer system loomed and offered both the idea of safety at the end of a series of tunnels, but also the danger of such a neglected passage.

"Baurus, Glenroy." She began, moving up with the Emperor at her side and just behind her. "Forward advance and clear the way." There was the shuffling of heavy armor and blades drawn as the two men moved to effect her command, making their way down the stairs and cautiously advancing into the next room. Next was her and the Emperor with the remaining masked Blades behind them. Only a sidelong glance towards Kiffar to see if he was to follow was left, her concerns for the rioters ending with the pardons and leaving them in the Cathay-Raht's care. If they followed, they followed and if not then not. Though there was that ever looming sensation that something was off. As if eyes in the dark were watching over their every move and preparing an assault.

The Elder Scrolls: In the Shadows of Oblivion [Closed]

@Simple Unicycle I am all about it, feel free to slide him over to the characters tab and start on your opener at your convenience.

The Elder Scrolls: In the Shadows of Oblivion [Closed]

_{Direct mentions: @LC
Indirect mentions: @Sir Lurksalot@MacabreFox@Spoopy Scary@Stormyx@Quest Abandoner}

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"Buy me a beer later and we'll call it even."

As Yashar bid them well and gave yet another blessing of the Nine, the Emperor himself seemingly finding it urgent to go through this cell in particular, and Khaliya disappearing just as soon as she was provided a way forward, this left Roshanarra alone with her thoughts and a choice to make. It had been the expectation that the man before her would have continued the fight when she was least capable of defending herself, or at the very least to do so verbally. She had braced herself for the consequences of her actions coming once more, a familiar sensation over the years just the same as sudden overwhelming rage. So just the same as he was set off balance by her contrition, so the same it was for her now seeing that he was perfectly willing to let things go. Her coppery features turned towards a bit of a frown, but nodded towards him all the same in acceptance. As soon as they found a way out of this rather precarious situation, she would have to make do on that beer.

For now though, as she watched the dark-scaled figure of one of the Argonians slithering by everyone and down the tunnel, she just barely caught the figure of her sister already joining the rest of the group in the adjacent room. Leaving behind those too uncertain of the corridor ahead, and waiting for the Blades to escort the Emperor ahead of her, she moved into the tunnel and fought off the growing claustrophobia. It was just a matter of focusing her eyes on the back of the masked Blade in front of her, paying no mind to those behind her and within a moment the rest of this impromptu group was gathered in what seemed to her to be a long-forgotten cistern.

The Cathay-Raht Kiffar had done everyone the favor of sweeping the tunnel first, though the leavings of the dust and cobwebs were traipsed into the room by many feet to follow. She kept to the side, giving a slow nod to the larger cat and preferring to keep quiet for the moment. Despite being underground and in rather poorly maintained tunnels, moonlight filtered in through grates above them along with the sounds of distant fighting and people rushing off to try and quell the violence. And by the stance of the Blades about them, it was clear that wouldn't be easily done nor far from them either.

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A secret tunnel. It was a secret tunnel.

Such things were how adventures began, mysterious secret entrances into long-forgotten catacombs. Obviously, the moment there was the opportunity to do so, Khaliya slipped between the more uncertain of her fellow prisoners and followed behind the trio that was the prancing man, his devoted follower and the very much less devoted woman who was very clearly a witch. She hadn't been following their conversation very closely, as the man talked in a confusing manner with quite a few words that she felt could probably be shortened by half and say the same thing. But while others had fallen into despair or a hangover from their unceremonious jailing, this one had kept his spirits fairly high. Maybe they would be interesting to follow along in this strange journey. Just the same as the Bosmer Yarmira and the object of her obsession, Kiffar the Cathay-Raht. Actually, the guy that her sister had nearly knocked through a wall was interesting to her as well, especially as it seemed that he knew at least one of the Blades and was very nearly to start a second round with Rosh.

Khaliya had started the night feeling as if it was just going to be another rather unassuming night of putting her hands where they were very much unwelcome. The Arena fights going very south very fast were an interesting development that became very complicated, and after feeling like she might have to share a cell with a bunch of very unhappy people for the rest of the night, the Emperor himself shows up with his Blades. Granted, she didn't recognize him immediately as the Emperor, but she knew the Blades well enough. At least by reputation. Sure, to many citizens of the Empire they were the ones charged with the protection of the Septims above all else, so she knew like the rest of the group to give them and their charge a respectable amount of personal space.

But for her, in all her studies over the years of swordplay and combat, she knew that they had earned their reputation over centuries. Her silver eyes trained over the shape of those swords, fascinated with the Akaviri style of blade and wondering if she could recreate it with her Shehai. That would have to be something done later though, preferably much later and hopefully without unwelcome eyes upon her. Despite such a gift in her hands and what it could bring, she had found a few times that it was a lot more beneficial to keep such things in her pocket for safe-keeping. If the rest of these people saw her as defenseless, then it could work well in her favor in not making herself out to be a potential threat.

Already the Blades seemed to look past her and focus more on the others gathered in the cistern, most notably the larger members.

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A dream. A dream had told of this night, of a familiar face awaiting him in the depths of darkness. This was to be the final days of an era, and the final hours of his life. Yet not all had come according to the prophecy of his dream, and as Uriel had been taken from his study at the behest of his Blades, it was clear the die had already been cast. Strange faces moved within the walls of the palace, metallic and frozen in a grimace of daedric malice. One by one they were cut down, and one by one the Blades and Palace Guard joined a makeshift formation carving a path towards what they felt was salvation. But he knew. He knew what awaited him in the crumbling catacombs beneath the city. Many of his kin had been slain this night already, his eldest son among them and in public view no less. It was just a shame that he would have to witness his companions here fail to preserve his own life at the end of this journey. Pardoning them for a night of misfortune was but the least he could do, and he hoped that Captain Renault would not hold these poor souls to what they could not prevent.

His eyes wandered over those presented before him once he was safely among his Blades and now joined the now former prisoners in the cistern.

"A day of intended fortune and celebration turned to misfortune and bloodshed." The Emperor said aloud, drawing Renault's attention towards him and instructing the two masked Blades to close ranks.

"With respect sir, the night is not yet done and we've got more than enough fight left in us to get you to safety." Her eyes shifted towards those around them, recognizing that more than a few here were merely just people unfortunate enough to be caught up in the chaos. The Khajiit Kiffar was recognizable at least in name, remembering him called by another title in another time. He had seemed to have fallen far since the death of his Mane, but perhaps…

"Manesguard." She said abruptly, addressing the imposing Cathay-Raht directly and leaving the immediate protection of the Emperor to the rest of her squad. "It seems your path has brought you an opportunity to redeem your name. As you may have noticed, there are assassins pursuing our Emperor and willing to kill anyone and everyone in their path. Can I entrust in you to guide these people out and assist us in seeing the Emperor to safety?"

The Elder Scrolls: In the Shadows of Oblivion [Closed]

Hey-oh

I've been down bad with the flu, so forgive me and my sick brain not functioning properly, but how are we to handle the recent post? Since I just posted the collab with Verena, Isai, and Deia, I don't see a need for a Verena post specifically, but I'm just not sure how to go forward. I have a sneaking suspicion I'm missing something, but I've read the post several times now.

Is this for those who have yet to decide which path they want to take, i.e, go get their belongings, go down the tunnel, or go up?

Sorry again @.@

@MacabreFox

I mean, I suppose if people really want to go up themselves there's not much stopping them, but the intention was to have everyone go on down the tunnel. Yashar and the officer of the watch is to regroup with the party and return everyone's belongings. As said though, Isai/Deia/Verena are good at the moment since you guys just did a collab post, so you're not missing anything lol.

The Elder Scrolls: In the Shadows of Oblivion [Closed]

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Assassins, rioters and now... Drunkards. Captain Elara Renault pinched the bridge of her nose as she considered the circumstances before her. This was supposed to be a secret escape route for the Septims, carefully managed by the watch and ensured to be empty at all times. Yet it seemed as if both Aedra and Daedra conspired against them, for now she had to deal with this lot and her Emperor's damned visions all at the same time. As she had been trained to do, she compartmentalized and prioritized the tasks at hand. With a gesture of her hand she called forward a pair of Blades that had been just out of sight, Akaviri masks hiding their faces and thus leaving their expressions unreadable. "My liege, these two will escort you down the tunnel and to a more secure point." The Emperor frowned over being hurried along, but he understood that necessity was key at this point in the night. Gathering his robes about him, the man shifted through those that remained and followed Kiffar with a Blade in front and behind him. Now Renault looked over the collection before her. A Dunmer woman had requested her belongings, then another of the group and another. The Nord staggered awake and there remained two Orsimer in the cell as well, though one bore an amulet of the Nine and the vestments of a priest.

Turning now to the officers of the watch, she bid one of them forward "Officer, were you the one who oversaw these arrests?"

"Yes, Captain. Myself and Varinus arrested all of them at Daggerfall Dan's, a few mostly just to remove them from the danger of a bar brawl that we believe had already resulted in the fatality of a Bosmer."

"Understood. You have a record of their belongings as well?"

"Of course, Captain. Varinus made sure that separate lockboxes were made for each cell and the contents partitioned appropriately."

"Excellent work, both of you are to retrieve the lockbox with one of the group and make haste to follow down the tunnel."

"Understood, Captain."

To that Renault then turned to the group, and without waiting for a volunteer simply pointed to the most trustworthy of the group she could find and assumed would make an effort to reunite with the group. Yashar al-Rihad, the half-Orsimer priest of the Nine stepped forward as indicated, bidding his sisters to follow down the tunnel and joined with the officers of the watch heading up the stairs. Now Renault had the matter at hand of the remaining group as well as those who had already moved ahead of the Emperor and behind him. This was a pressing issue to handle and quickly, but they had been offered a pardon for the night and most would surely be more than accepting of such a thing. "Let me be clear to each of you, including you Thraigyr. Our business is not to be interfered with, and though you have all been granted a pardon, know that it can be rescinded at any point in time at sword-point. Follow if you must, but be swift."

The Elder Scrolls: In the Shadows of Oblivion [Closed]

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The brightness of the moons on this night had given way during the intensifying riots to the reddish-orange haze of fires and the beacons lit across the walls of the Imperial City as little by little the Legions struggled to regain order. Yet as smoke filled the night sky and the calls to order sounded over angry citizens, a shift to the atmosphere could be felt as rumor spread like wildfire and fanned the rioters into a panic in the face of the watch. The guards in the prison shifted back and forth as they rested, swapping in and out with each other as some came in from the streets battered and bruised and trying to get a moment of rest before heading back in. Some just wanted a moment to breathe, a moment of relative silence in the wake of so much violence gripping the city.

But the rumor carried even down into the prison proper, the words said before anyone could try and stress the importance of keeping such things to one's self. "Murdered. At his own wedding." A man fresh from the Palace District sat with his back to the wall, blood spattered across his armor from his flight to Legion headquarters. Some of it looked clearly to be his own, a lot more civilian, rioter or otherwise. At first as he said those words, not many paid him much mind, a murder at a wedding was an awful affair but not enough to cause as much destruction as was ongoing. Then another man entered, pulling a dented helmet from his head and tossing it in the corner of the bastion up above. His face was bruised and split where he had clearly chosen to catch a blunt object with his face, though maybe not quite intentional.

His voice carried all the way down to the prison proper, outraged and over his fellow guards trying to calm him. "Dead! All of them!" A commotion sounded from above, and some of the guards down with the prisoners glanced nervously at each other, wondering if they should step in and help, but deciding it was probably best to keep out for now. "Geldall, his traitor-bitch wife, and all the others. People with masks and red robes all over the damn city stabbing anyone and everyone, took a knife just trying to get here." Where before the other cells had been just as packed as their own and rather busy with people arguing their own issues, a silence descended upon them for the first time all night. Hands gripped the bars and a collection of faces leaned in to try and get a look for themselves in disbelief. A soft murmuring, some questioning, others denying, the conversation building all around them as even the guards had their own takes.

Up above there was more shouting and arguing, the man trying to rally a few to go with him to the palace only for panic to set in and the sound of blades clashing. Though the prisoners could not see, it was clear a fight had broken out in the bastion and without any further information it seemed as if the city itself had gone mad. Screams, the sounds of rent flesh and steel, until one voice cut across all others and put some order to the chaos around them.

"Legionnaires! Phalanx!"

A woman's voice, one that may have been familiar to at least one member of the cell, and even if unfamiliar to the others this one was someone clearly in command. Imperial through and through, but with that subtle Breton lean, she needed no further insistence as the guards by the cell pulled together into an impromptu phalanx with a pair up front with shields and the rest drawing their blades and waiting. They need not wait too long, as with a scream of protest, a man in red robes and a black metal mask came cascading down the turn in the corridor, tumbling into the front ranks. Those two up front worked the shields to carry the robed man's momentum, sending him above the six guards in the corridor and into their drawn blades to die behind them. Then another came down, and they shifted to the sides of the corridor to allow the second rank to step forward, plunging their swords into the man's chest and pulling him out through the formation to the back. A third and the sounds of fighting up above went silent, replaced with heavy boots coming down the stairs and more distant shouts.

"Gaius, Titus. You two are with Lady Alexandria, help her rally the Legions and take back the city. Lucia and Marinus, gather whoever is rested enough to mount a defence of the Prison District. Assist Lady Julia with organizing relief and securing the isle."

The guards took several steps back, that same woman coming into view now as she turned to look into the cell, her disappointment clear as well as no small amount of disgust. It was clear that she was very unamused with the people within this cell, though the exact reason why was unclear at the moment. Yet for those who knew… Her armor marked her out as a member of the Blades, but the katana at her side bloodied and the scabbard dented was more than enough for even the most novice of Imperial Citizens to recognize the distinct danger they may be in. The Blades. Here. In the prison. Either someone within the cell had made a rather severe error in who they struck during the riot or-

"If it wasn't for the riot burning the Arena District to the ground, I would be having one or all of you in the interrogation cells to explain this, but we have more important matters at hand." Captain Renault beckoned with her hand and she was joined by two other dour-faced Blades, taking a look back at her charge and ensuring that the corridor was safe for now. The other cells had gone quiet, even Valen Dreth had somehow found it in him to keep his mouth shut and stay out of sight. "Open this cell and get these people out of here. We need through and we need-" Slowly another came into sight, this one not armored like his escorts but they gave him the kind of deference that made it very clear who he was. An older man gray of hair and with a weary expression across his features as he looked into the cell and shared a moment of disappointment with the captain of his Blades. All the more as someone actually asked the question of who the old man was, to which Yashar very quietly told said person in as kind a tone as possible, that they needed to be very quiet and be ready to move when told to.

"The one from my dreams…" Uriel Septim stood before them as the door was quickly unlocked, his Blades stepping in just in case someone decided to make a move they disagreed with. "Elara, this was written in the stars… Today is the day." Captain Renault frowned at this, though she gestured to one of the others to step into the cell and make his way through the throng of people to press at the wall behind Caddach with a brief apology.

"Okay." The other man stepped in to address the group, allowing Renault to guide the Emperor off to the side and to give a clear path up the stairs. "Your Emperor and his Blades is in need of moving through your cell, and in his benevolence is bestowing a pardon of all crimes to each of you, but either move up the stairs or down the tunnel." Baurus nodded to his captain, ignoring her disapproval and opting for expediency in this endeavor, watching a couple already taking advantage and rushing back up the stairs to the relative safety above. "Make your choice, but know there is danger no matter which direction you go."