Mortarion

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Scales of Shadow

Sunset, 10th of Midyear, 4E208
Gilane, Hammerfell

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The 10th of Midyear had begun much like it always did for the Argonian assassin ever since they came to Hammerfell. He woke up with the first rays of the sun and, after having breakfast, he had retired to the Three Crowns gym for his usual routine of exercise. However, unlike most days, the peace and serenity that usually came to him through his exercises seemed to be found nowhere, his thoughts constantly going back and forth over the events that had occurred during the past few days. His talk with Meg in the aftermath of the party organised by Sora, Gregor's confession during the mission assigned to them by Salasoix, meeting Sevari after agreeing to help Latro, helping Meg and learning about the capture of Sora and Latro, taking a bullet for Meg when she had been discovered by the palace sentries....these, and more, were the thoughts that plagued his mind.

Knowing that, no matter how much he tried, he'd be unable to find the peace that once so easily came to him through his exercises, Jaraleet decided to retire back to his room in the hotel. Once he was back there, after making a small detour to grab something to drink, the Argonian assassin made his way towards the balcony that faced Gilane's streets. Settling down, Jaraleet let the time fly away by slowly drinking the wine that he had gotten and by watching the citizens of Gilane as they made their way through the city streets during the course of their daily routines. And as he watched the street crowds and nursed his drink, his mind turned to a more recent memory. Meg, her knuckles bruised and her lip split, telling him that she was going to stay at another inn for a while; she had found her small friend Zahir beaten up and, as she put it, didn't want to bring him all the way back to the Three Crowns. He bit his lip slightly as a gnawing sensation of worry began to form in his stomach. She was out there, away from the rest of the group, while the Dwemer were probably on the hunt for them.

He stood up from his sitting position and made his way towards the balcony's railing, gripping the metal surface as he leaned forward. "Maybe I should go and talk to her. Try to convince her to bring Zahir back here?" He thought quietly, his brow furrowing. Who knew what the Dwemer planned to do next? Yes, it'd be best if he went and talked with her. While he didn't fully trust the Poncy Man in the aftermath of the fiasco that had been the mission to capture Nblec, and as such he didn't felt truly safe in the Three Crowns, Jaraleet that it was still the best option for them all to stay in a place that was under the protection of one of the leading figures of the Redguard resistance against the Dwemer's rule. Knowing that curfew hours were fast approaching, Jaraleet decided to don his armor, cloak, and weapons before heading out to the place were Meg was staying. It would be better to go out prepared for the possibility of a confrontation with one of the Dwemer's patrolmen rather than going out unprepared and hope for the best, these were Jaraleet's thoughts as he made his way out of the hotel.

It wouldn't take long for Jaraleet to feel his decision validated, for mere moments after leaving the hotel the Haj-Eix felt the presence of a man trying, and failing, to discreetly follow him through Gilane's streets. It didn't take long for Jaraleet to shake off his mysterious pursuer and even less to turn the situation around so that he was the one tailing his would-be pursuer, who turned out to be a Redguard in, what Jaraleet guessed were, his mid-thirties. Believing that his quarry had evaded him, the Redguard turned around and -to Jaraleet's surprise- returned towards the Three Crowns. However, instead of entering the hotel, the Redguard began to discreetly, but surely, keep watch over the building. It soon enough became clear who, or rather what, this Redguard was: one of the agents employed by the Dwemer's secret police.

As he watched the Redguard agent keep vigil over the building that acted as the headquarters for the Samara Cell, it soon dawned on Jaraleet that he had, briefly but surely, seen the man's face once before: in the crowds that milled through the streets in front of his room's balcony. Inwardly cursing himself for his carelessness at not having noticed such a thing, it promptly became clear to him what he had to do: he had to silence the agent. It was too much of a risk to allow him to live. Who knew for how long he had been watching over the hotel, how many people he had identified going in and out of the building. Part of him felt panic well within his chest as he realised that there was a very real possibility that this man, whoever he was, might have tailed Meg back to the inn where she was staying watching over Zahir.

"No, I must focus." He mentally chided himself. Now was not the time to worry. He was a Haj-Eix, the hidden blade used by the An-Xileel to protect Argonia. As Jaraleet began to follow after the Redguard, he unconsciously began muttering an old poem in Jel.

"Stars in darkness, constellation
Tell us those we must collect
Given to the needed clutch
To be taught the needed ways"

He suddenly stopped as he remembered Raelynn telling him, Meg, and Gregor about what she had underwent at the hands of Zaveed. The way that the experience had scarred her. "Why, why this now. I need to focus." Jaraleet thought, shaking his head. He couldn't let anything distract him. He breathed deeply and set his focus once more on his, still unaware, quarry. As he began to follow after the Redguard once more, he began to recite the poem again.

"Scales of shadow, hands of death
Sithis honored by your blade
To create the needed change
By the blood which must be spilt"

"For you Jaraleet I feel comfort, solidarity. I see in you embodying home, our home in every sense of the word." Judena's words from the party suddenly echoed in his mind, reminding Jaraleet of what he had spoken with the elder Argonian about. "I do not embody anything Jude..." Jaraleet quietly whispered in Jel to the night. "I am merely the tool by which our home is protected. With which our brothers and sisters are defended. Nothing more, and nothing less." He finished, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. He had to focus, he was getting closer to his quarry. The moment to strike would be soon. As he pulled his weapons from their scabbards, the poem continued.

"You who join the brotherhood
Guided by just one untruth
Remember our nothing words
Look upon with nothing eyes"

Jaraleet froze for a second when, suddenly, the Redguard agent turned around. The Argonian assassin pressed himself into the nearby shadows of a corner and waited for his quarry to continue on. And, as he waited, he couldn't help but reminisce about the night when Meg had come to ask him for help in locating Daro'Vasora. Without thinking, he suddenly moved his hand to the spot where he knew the bullet had lodged itself. "Why? Why did I do that?" He thought, remembering the overwhelming feeling that had overtaken him when Meg had been spotted by one of the palace sentries. Any further thoughts, however, were interrupted by the sound of footsteps echoing in the night. His quarry was moving again, and the hunt continued. And, again, the poem continued from where it had been left.

"One day, when your snout is pale
To the swamps you will return
Darkness remains in your heart
For your scales are shadow still."

As soon as the last words left his lips, Jaraleet caught up to his prey. The shocked Redguard had no time to even scream for, in an instant, Jaraleet had wrapped one of his arms around his mouth and, a second afterwards, the Argonian's dagger pierced the Redguard's throat. Jaraleet held the Redguard as he was overcome by his death throes, gently placing the corpse on the ground once they had passed. "It is done, the river has taken you to the sea my friend." The Argonian assassin said as he closed the eyes of the recently deceased redguard. Still, he knew that his job was not done yet, he had to dispose of the body. Carefully picking up the body, Jaraleet began making his way in the directions of the docks and, as he did, he began to recite the poem once more, lest his mind betray him again.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

One by One

_{By @Stormflyx,@Greenie,@Father Hank, and Mortarion}

Late Evening, 7th of Midyear, 4E208
The Haunted Tide Inn, Gilane, Hammerfell

The hours after curfew in Gilane were often quiet and beautiful. This evening was no different, just the muffled sound of late night merriment in the common area of the inn, and the gentle crackling of the hearthfire filled the open space of the room that Raelynn had taken to staying in with Gregor. They both sat together quite content on the plush couch in the corner of the room, empty plates of food were accompanied with a half empty bottle of wine and two glasses.

She hummed softly as she ran her fingers affectionately through Gregor’s hair while he sat in front of her with one of her legs wrapped around his middle. Her steel blue eyes were gazing out of the window at the moon that was sitting in the centre of the sky, surrounded by the stars. She felt safe and content as she began to work her hands down the back of his neck, massaging each of his vertebrae between her thumb and forefinger gently at first, but applying pressure after a while. She smiled and moved her head down to place a kiss against his shoulder. It was one of the first truly peaceful nights they’d had.

Gregor’s eyelids fluttered while Raelynn worked away at his muscles and his spine. He could actually feel the relaxation spreading through his body and he almost slumped back against her -- but that would have meant she had no space to work with, so Gregor conjured up the energy and consciousness to stay upright. He definitely did not want her to stop. He hummed when she kissed his shoulder, a warm thrumming in his chest, and he lovingly squeezed the leg she’d wrapped around him. “I had no idea how much I needed this,” he mumbled and laughed, though that was swiftly cut off by a satisfied groan when Raelynn hit a particularly tense spot.

“Men never do… You just keep going and going not realising the build up…” She slipped her hands over his shoulders, a devilishly playful smile on her lips that he would not see. “I knew when first I saw you that you certainly don’t stretch. I’m going to hazard a guess and say there’s years of tension behind your shoulders from waving that Claymore around.” Her voice was softly flirtatious, and slightly arrogant too. She hooked her leg tighter around him, as if to constrict his movement as she pushed harder against his shoulders with her entire palm, letting a little of her restorative magic flow in. “But now you have yourself a woman who knows,” a finger pressed a spot behind each of his ears, before pressing deep into the base of his neck, “exactly,” they slid down with a slightly painful pressure to the bottom of his shoulder blades with precision, “where to touch…” she hooked two fingers underneath the bones on each side, pulling back on them - she knew that Gregor would feel pain until - crack, a sharp and meticulous manoeuvre she performed with her hand that opened a floodgate that had held in the tensions for so long, she wondered how relieved he would feel after that. Raelynn chuckled, quietly proud of herself.

His grimace of pain was swiftly replaced by an open-mouthed expression of sheer pleasure and he took a deep breath. It was almost as if the vulture of guilt and stress that roosted on his shoulders had seen fit to fly after all -- Gregor hadn’t felt this light and free in years. “Thank you,” he said earnestly and leaned back against Raelynn’s chest, looking up and into her eyes while he enjoyed the radiating feeling of relief that spread out from his back into his limbs. “I had a dream that left me feeling… unwell, to be honest, but now it’s like that never happened.” He smiled and his eyes, so often cold and unyielding and black as coal, were full of life and joy and the color of firewood and chocolate. “How I managed without you, I’ll never know.”

A look of concern drifted over her face at the mention of such a dream. She’d been in a similar state after Calen, and her sleep had been disturbed somewhat in the days since her first attack. She smiled down at him, leaning over to plant a kiss on his forehead. “It’s nothing, I wanted to thank you...” Raelynn began to play with his hair again, she enjoyed making him feel good - relaxing him. “You managed because you are strong, and because you had to.” Her eyes met his and she simply looked into them with complete adoration for him and all that he was. “You have had a bad dream then?” She asked curiously, wondering what exactly it would have to be that would make a Necromancer feel unwell.

It took Gregor a few seconds to reply. “I dreamt that I was --” home, he almost said, but caught himself in time. It wasn’t his home anymore and hadn’t been for a long time. And did Raelynn really have to know that he still dreamt about that time? Probably not, he realized. He cleared his throat and started over. “It’s a recurring dream. A nightmare. It always starts the same way. I wake up in an old forest, like the woods in Skyrim but even darker and oppressing. It’s deathly quiet. No wind, no birds, nothing. And there’s something… some thing in the trees. I don’t know what it is, but it’s huge and it’s loud and terrifying, honestly, and it runs me down like a wolf hunts a rabbit. I’m powerless to defend myself. I have seen a lot of monsters, real monsters, in my time. None of them scared me like that thing does,” he said, his gaze fixed on a point beyond Raelynn’s eyes, and he shivered. “It spoke to me for the first time last night. Just my name, nothing more, in this horrible imitation of a human voice. It sounded so familiar… but I can’t place it.”

Her concern for him only grew as he shared the details of the nightmare, and that it had been a recurring beast? It wasn’t good. She closed her eyes, as if to try to picture the setting herself, to feel it, to witness it in her own mind’s eye. She could only feel a fraction of what it made him feel, and she gripped at his arms in a fear of her own. “I…” she began, trying to decide on the words she should say, her eyes opening - narrowing, and staring away towards the window again, “I believe that our recurring dreams and nightmares are our mind’s way of communicating to us something that we have forgotten, something that we must do - a message that we aren’t understanding.” A sigh followed. “I don’t know why you dream of such beasts, but I know that you will realise the message it is bringing you soon enough - no matter how terrifying, this is something to help you. To help us.”

Gregor frowned. “It’s got a funny way of showing it,” he mumbled.

A knock on the door interrupted the moment inside, though there was no way Megana would know that. The walk back from Sevari's had been slow and arduous, not only because she didn't want to rush Jaraleet or get caught but also because she had never been to this particular inn before. Thankfully it hadn't been too far away and she had a decent idea of where it would be situated from what Jaraleet mentioned to her, though by the time she reached, she was desperate for entry. The open sky had always been a comfort to her but tonight it was anything but, and her mind was close to conjuring enemies where there were none to be found.

Instinctively, when she heard the knocking on the door, Raelynn sat upright and a stream of conjuration magicka spiralled around her wrist. Who would be knocking at this time of the evening. She tensed up and pressed closer to Gregor. “Who is it?” she barked towards the door, knowing that they would both be ready in the event it wasn't a friendly visitor.

“It’s Jaraleet and Meg.” The Argonian replied through gritted teeth. The more that he walked about, the more discomfort, which was quickly turning into actual pain, he felt from the recently cauterized wound. “Gregor told me of this place. We tried to find you at the Three Crowns first but, seeing as you weren’t there, we decided to check here.” He added after a moment, hoping that would assuage Raelynn’s nerves.

It certainly sounded like him. She stopped the spell and moved from the couch to the fireplace, tightening the belt of her robe and pulling it around herself more. It was late, she wasn’t going to be properly dressed at this hour for visitors. She cast a glance in Gregor’s direction and nodded towards the door, folding her arms over her chest. “Whatever do they want at this hour?” she whispered at him.

Despite the calm and drowsy state that Gregor had been in before Meg knocked on the door, he got to his feet, slipped into his Hammerfell linens and took up position by the side of the door with his silver longsword in hand, even after he heard Jaraleet’s voice. What if Zaveed had captured the Argonian and was using him as bait? He took a deep breath and tensed his muscles in preparation when Raelynn nodded at him. “I don’t know,” he mouthed back. That wasn’t entirely true -- he had a few ideas already -- but standing there and talking about it wouldn’t help. He reached for the doorknob, twisted it, pulled the door open and swung into view, blade and ward at the ready. Fortunately, it really was just Jaraleet and Meg, the latter appearing to be holding up the former. Gregor’s eyes widened and he stepped aside to let them through.

“Is he injured?” Gregor asked Meg, eyes flitting back and forth between her and Jaraleet, but the truth was that he already knew the answer. He looked back at Raelynn. There was no time to lose. “Where do you want him?”

Time to get to work. Raelynn rolled up her sleeves and got down on her knees by the fire, ushering the Argonian over. She could see from his awkwardly clumsy gait that he’d taken an injury to his middle. “What happened?” She asked quickly, shooting a scornful glance to Meg, “what were you doing? Who did this?” It was probably unfair to ask so many questions, but she needed to know what she was dealing with - even if the smell of burning flesh told her exactly what had happened. “I need more light, and start a pot of water boiling at once.”

"I- we- he-" Already worried and inwardly cringing at the look sent her way, Meg fumbled with her words, stuttering in her nervousness. She paused, taking a breath before continuing. "He- he got shot by dwemer guards by the gov'ner's palace. We... We foun' out Sora's been held there an' went t'scout the area. Latro's there too.." Her eyes flitted between Raelynn and Gregor before adding, "Sora hadn' been 'round in two days so... I asked his help in findin' her."

“Sora?! She’s okay?” Raelynn was distracted immediately at the mention of Daro’Vasora, guilt soon followed for not having thought of her sooner. “I hadn’t seen her since… Well…” her eyes moved across the room to meet Gregor’s.

“I should have told you, I’m sorry,” Gregor said to Meg and Jaraleet after meeting Raelynn’s gaze. He moved one of the candleholders to Jaraleet’s side and drafted a pan of water while he talked. “Zaveed, a Khajiit that works for the Dwemer, took Daro’Vasora. I did not know that they took her to the palace but I already knew that she had been kidnapped.” He wasn’t sure if Raelynn wanted the others to know that she had been a part of that ordeal herself, so he did not mention her involvement. “Roux is dead. Latro has been taken as well, you say? Fuck.” Gregor sighed and his face was grim as he hung the pan over the fireplace. “They’re thinning the herd. You should not have -- well, what’s done is done.”

Meg’s anxiety and guilt hadn’t escaped Gregor and he felt a pang of sympathy when he looked at the girl’s face. He walked to her side and wrapped his arm around her shoulder in a gesture of comfort. “Jaraleet will be alright,” he said to Meg in a low voice, his words meant just for her. “Raelynn will take care of him. She’s the best at what she does. You know that, right?” He squeezed her shoulder. “Come, sit. Let me get you a glass of water.”

A little surprised by the kind gesture but very appreciative, Meg nodded. Truth be told, even if she didn't know either Raelynn or Gregor well, they were familiar enough faces that she knew she and Jaraleet were safe. Her shoulders slumped in relief as she did as she was instructed. "He burned it shut," she finally added. "The-" Pausing, Meg once more attempted to figure out what exactly the man was, but she gave up only a few seconds later. "His name... Sevari? He foun' us an' helped... wasn' really happy 'bout it." It took her a few quiet seconds to realize what Gregor had said first. "Roux- oh... oh no..." It was all due to him they'd even found there way here. Maybe she hadn’t known the man, but the shock was still there.

“Yes, I’m afraid that Latro has been taken as well.” Jaraleet said from his position next to Raelynn. “It would have been nice to know that you were aware of Daro’Vasora’s capture, at least.” He said with a sigh. “That way we could have done things differently. But, ah, like you said Gregor, what’s done is done.” He said, closing his eyes momentarily as he processed the rest of what Gregor had said. “You say that Roux was killed? Was he taken prisoner along with Daro’Vasora?” The Argonian asked, eager for more information so that he could piece together the puzzle of how Zaveed, and Sevari, had found where they hid.

Jaraleet’s words angered her. What Gregor could brush off and put behind him, she could not. Could have done things differently? “Is that a joke, Jaraleet?,” she couldn’t help but snap at him as she examined his wound. It had been cauterized - but not very well. “You both shouldn’t have gone. A half-cocked plan and you didn’t even tell anyone where you were going. Pardon us for not telling you the situation beforehand either.” While her mood was incredibly sour and tense all of a sudden, the way in which she began treating the wound was entirely gentle and warm. “Yes. He was killed. Yes he was a prisoner, but he was bait… we were bait.” Her voice quietened and tone settled and her eyes fell to the floor in shame. “I lived, he died, Sora was taken.”

After hearing Raelynn’s response, Meg couldn't help but slump even further in her seat, eyes boring into her lap. It was true, wasn't it? She had been so worried she hadn't even thought of the consequences, and because of her, Jaraleet could have died. "It... it was my fault," she finally said, voice cracking slightly. "I'd asked him... I... couldn' just stay an' not go lookin’ for Sora..." She sounded uncertain of herself, but she didn't want to blame to fall on the argonian for something stupid she had roped him into.

Raelynn exhaled and regained a composure, she couldn’t bring it upon herself to scold the poor girl. She thought of her words carefully as she ran restorative magic over Jaraleet’s skin at last. “Look - I know you care about Sora, but right now the situation is too volatile for any of us to go out like that without telling each other. If you had both been captured or killed… We’d never have known. You got off lucky.” She glanced behind her at the fireplace, and the pan of boiling water. “Go into my bag Megana. There are flowers in there, blue and purple. Add them to the pan and stir it.”

"I-" Unable to continue her thoughts aloud, Meg simply nodded and got up from her chair, hurrying over to the bag Raelynn mentioned and looking for the flowers. She recognized them on sight, though she had no true idea what they might be used for, having never dabbled in alchemy herself. Grabbing them, she headed to the fireplace and dropped them in the pan. Even as she watched it, stirring as instructed, the water and flowers began to blur as tears formed in her eyes. She didn't dare turn around- she was sure they already thought her a stupid, naive child and she didn't wish to prove it further.

Gregor met Raelynn's gaze with an almost imperceptible frown on his face and he shook his head from side to side slowly. People didn't learn anything from reprimands when they were still stressed, Gregor knew, so to point out the glaring flaws in Megana's plan now would not achieve anything. He had been trying to comfort her and now he could start all over again. That said, Raelynn had been through hell and back lately, so he couldn't really blame her for having a short fuse.

The Breton noted Gregor’s expression, and at the shake of his head she took her moment to turn and face away from him, to move her hands around on Jaraleet, and to watch Meg stir the pot. She pursed her lips and decided to keep them closed for now.

Meg busied herself with the potion that Raelynn was brewing and Gregor thought it best to leave her alone for now, so he turned his attention to Jaraleet. “Yes. Zaveed used a ruse to capture Raelynn and Daro'Vasora. I don't think he necessarily knows where we… normally stay,” he said, unwilling to speak the name of the hotel out loud, just to be safe. “But Roux was badly tortured, so who knows. He might have told them everything. As for your own, ah, adventure, it wasn't a total waste. We know where Daro'Vasora is. That's a start. I've got my sights set on finding and killing Zaveed but I think the rest of the party would like to know what you've discovered.” Gregor leaned back in his seat and rubbed his face. They were really turning up the heat now. The clock was ticking.

Jaraleet too, for his part, was unhappy with the Breton’s harsh words. He knew full well the effect that they would most likely have on Meg, something which he doubted Raelynn did, and he wouldn’t like to see the Nord woman in a state like that again. The Argonian was half of a mind to mention that Raelynn owed her presence to Gregor doing something foolish most likely. After all, he hadn’t heard about the fact that she had been kidnapped as well until that very moment and he doubted that the others in the group, baring their Khajiit leader that was for certain, knew of that either. Thus, the only logical conclusion was that Gregor had somehow saved her by his lonesome.

But, he also knew how Raelynn reacted to confrontations when she was stressed and, so, Jaraleet bit back any sort of comments related to that. It’d be of no use having Raelynn going into another tirade. “I would recommend that you don’t pursue this Zaveed, after all it’d be foolish to take more unnecessary risks, but I doubt that you’d listen to me on this.” The Argonian decided to comment in the end. “So, I’d advise you to stick to the shadows. Don’t ask any questions about his location, wait for him to move first and then track him down. We don’t know how many non-Dwemer operatives the governor has under her employ. Anything you could say could be relayed to him without you knowing.” Jaraleet said to Gregor, letting out a sigh. “You are correct that the others in the group would like to hear this information. It’d probably be for the best if we could gather and discuss a course of action for us to take before we are taken one by one.”

“One by one…” she repeated softly, as if triggered. Her hands pulling away from Jaraleet slowly as if she were falling into a trance of some kind, her eyes filled with fright by the light of the fire. Not now Raelynn! she heard a voice inside say, and she sat blankly for a few seconds, staring into the flames - as if she were about to dive right into them to find her answers. No! And she snapped free from it, Zaveed's name being thrown around the room. It brought him in. She shook her head and pointed with a smile to the pot. It wasn't a real smile, it was the kind you wear to hide sadness, and she wasn't doing terribly good at hiding it these days. “Meg… G-grab a tankard and drink that. It's not a p-potion. It's for you. Will lift your spirits again…”

After she had spoken she returned to her silence, back to working on the Argonian. Her own spirits dampened still.

Meg stilled a little when she heard Raelynn's words, the break in them, the way her words trailed at the end. Her eyes shut tightly, the wooden spoon she was stirring with still. She had been so busy thinking about her own sorrow, her own mistakes, that she hadn't even paused to think about what others may have been going through. Whoever this Zaveed was, what he had done to Sora, to Raelynn, it had to have been bad. And yet she was standing here feeling sorry for herself.

Her eyes opened once more and she nodded, heading over to where the tankards where situated. She grabbed one at first; an afterthought had her grabbing a second one as well. She headed back to the fireplace where she filled them both. There was hesitation in her steps, but she headed over to where Raelynn was taking care of Jareleet, setting the tankard near her.

"You... y'should drin some too then." Her voice was low but audible enough for the rest to hear. "I'm sorry 'bout what happened- I know it won' change nothin' but... whatever happened to ya shouldn't've, an' I'm sorry 'bout it." She bit at her lip uncertainly as she stepped back. " I dunno both of you well but... we're part of a group- no one should be gettin' hurt or takin' away like this. I know I messed up today, but it ain' gonna happen again." Her hand tightened its hold on her tankard, and her free hand reached down to rest on the hilt of her sword. "This ain' here jus’ t'look pretty. Don' count me out."

“You didn't…” began Raelynn, brushing a finger over the tankard that Meg had placed down beside her with a small smile. “You didn't mess up, you were brave. My fear… is that all of us get killed.” She sighed, and looked Meg in the eyes and nodded, forcing herself to be strong so they both could understand, so that they could be the ones to deliver the message that everyone needed to hear. “These people will not stop, I know that much. Ruthless, violent… They are coming for all of us.” There wasn't any anger in her voice, just resigment, and her cold eyes flitted between Jaraleet and Meg. She was just a woman telling her story now.

“He took me some days ago, tortured me.” She paused and concentrated her stare on the Argonian. “You know that much Jaraleet. It was brutal and I escaped only just. He told me then that all of Samara Cell are in danger, that he'll go through us all. One by one.” The words didn't hurt as much now as they did before, talking to Meg and Jaraleet… Being useful? She felt strangely empowered. “I escaped and thought my ordeal to be over but I found myself in his clutches again which is when he used Roux and I to entice Sora. He took her and left me… His words elude me now, I’m sorry, but he is angry at us. Rourken is angry at us.” She squeezed Jaraleet's arm. That was all that she had in her to say on the matter, they didn't need details.

“Megana, go sit with Gregor. I have to tend to this wound and I'm afraid it will be too unpleasant for your eyes tonight…I think you've seen enough.” Her speech had hardly been rallying, and she knew that the best approach now would be business as usual. To mend Jaraleet. It reminded her distinctly of when she first met him, in fact she had been treating a gunshot wound then too which prompted her to chuckle slightly. Something else? It had been when she first met Gregor and instantly she was taken back to that moment - as if watching from a distance. If she thought hard enough about it she could imagine the smell, leather and steel. He had been new, exciting, mysterious. The Breton snapped back to the present moment again and smiled over at him as he sat in his chair. It was a smile reminiscent of one she would have given him back then. He wouldn't know why she was doing it to him now. Jaraleet too, was in her thoughts. Their first meeting. She recalled how he sat down beside her at their campfire and was friendly. Jaraleet is a friend.

“Say Jaraleet… This is like deja vu is it not? Will there come a time where I'm not patching up your wounds?” The way in which she spoke was almost playful and was certainly teasing.

Jaraleet let out a soft chuckle at Raelynn’s words. “It is. It reminds me of the first time when we met, back in Skingrad where we both were helping the Colovian Rangers.” The Argonian said. “I’ll try and make sure that you don’t have to patch up my wounds so often but I’m afraid this comes with the job so I’m pretty sure that this is not the last time you’ll have to patch my wounds.”

“Everyday just feels like a lifetime, right?” She asked, catching Jaraleet’s eyes. “As long as we’re on this journey, I’ll be there to patch you up.” She smiled sincerely at him, realising that what she said may have been too kind for her tongue, “of course I will start charging you for the pleasure,” she jested.

Jaraleet laughed at Raelynn’s words before smiling at the Breton woman. “Thank you Raelynn.” The Argonian said. “I’ll hold you to that, my friend.” He said sincerely. “...though maybe we can work on a bit of a discount, otherwise I think you’ll take all my money.” He joked, chuckling softly.

Gregor kept his silence while the others talked, merely nodding in acknowledgement when Jaraleet gave him advice. It was sound and he intended to follow it. He’d keep his ear to the ground and wait for something that could draw Zaveed out of hiding. He listened to Raelynn tell her story and to Meg’s reaction and returned Raelynn’s mysterious smile when she looked at him. He had been relieved to see her recover from the moment of fear and it was nice to see her smile again, even if he did not understand exactly what she was feeling now or what she was going through. He loved her well and truly and that was enough.

Looking up when Megana came to his side, Gregor made way for her to sit. “I believe you,” he said to her. “About your sword, that it's not just for show. Daro’Vasora is lucky to have a friend like you.” It sounded like he meant it.

A hint of a smile came to Meg's face as she sat down. It was nice being acknowledged, but even better when it was by someone she was sure would have thought the opposite. "Thanks," she replied, giving the Imperial a fleeting grateful look before taking a gulp of the hot tea. Her tongue burned a little, but the feeling wasn't amiss. "I dunno if she's lucky or no but... it's how it is." Her free hand fiddled with the hem of her tunic, blood drops stiff and dry from being so close to the fire.

"My pa taught me." She looked away from her hand and cast another glance Gregor's way. "He's Imperial too, like you..." Her voice trailed as she remembered the last time she spoke with this man. It seemed almost a lifetime ago, truth be told. Whether she had been right or wrong seemed so irrelevant right now. "Uhm... about the other night... sorry 'bout that."

“I learned from my father as well,” Gregor said and laughed. “Imperials are like that. What was it Gaiden Shinji said? ‘The best techniques are passed on by the survivors’? Something like that. It’s our motto, I think.”

He smiled and waved dismissively when Megana mentioned their previous conversation. “All is forgiven. I don’t blame you for having questions. Let’s focus on the here and now. Take a deep breath, drink your tea, and try to relax,” Gregor said and nodded encouragingly.

"A'righ'," Meg replied, nodding as she looked back to her tea, contemplating the still steaming liquid for a moment before taking another sip. She'd never been much of a tea drinker, but this was nice and soothing. Maybe it was something to look into. Letting her tankard rest against her knee, she looked over at Raelynn and Jaraleet, hoping all was going well there. She'd only seen Brynja heal before- truth be told, she didn't really know who else was a healer in their group until now.

Gregor followed her gaze and patted Megana on the knee. “All will be well. I’ve seen Raelynn in action before. You know,” he said and squinted, “if I look real hard, I think I can see some more color in Jaraleet’s cheeks. And by that, I mean more green. That must be a good sign when it comes to Argonians, right?” He allowed himself a smile at his own joke and glanced aside to wink at Meg. He fancied he could be quite charming when he wanted to. He hoped it would lighten the younger woman’s mood.

Meg blinked before narrowing her eyes as well, looking almost scrutinizingly at the argonian. "Really?" she replied, looking back at the Imperial just in time to see the wink. "Oh... yer jokin'." A small, nearly soundless laugh escaped her as she shook her head and brought her tankard back to her lips, finishing off the drink.

Over by the fireplace, Raelynn was growing tired. It was apparent in the way she ran a hand across her brow and began to sway in the spot. Magicka exhaustion, and just plain exhaustion had pulled her to her limit for the day. “Ooh…” she groaned as she leaned back, wanting to flop entirely onto the floor but that would be somewhat undignified of her. “I think that will get you both back to the Three Crowns…” She panted, out of breath, her eyes meeting Jaraleet’s one more time. “Remember to tell them.” She managed to place her hand on top of his, gripping at it with what strength she had - knowing she couldn’t hurt him, but if she could show him how important their next task was, she’d at least sleep soundly.

“You’ll be alright. Come back if you need anything more… Just not tonight, you both need to skidaddle now…” There was a lingering impatience, but it was innocent. Just a shove in the direction of the door from a woman who needed to get to her bed.

Meg nodded and stood up, placing the empty tankard on a table before casting a look at the Imperial and Breton. "Aye, we'll be headin' off now," she said, smiling gratefully at both. "Thanks... an' don' worry, we won' be forgettin' t'tell the others." With that said, she headed for the door, preparing herself for more sneaking through the streets of Gilane.

“Yes, you rest easy tonight. We’ll be sure to tell the others.” Jaraleet said as he stood up, moving to where Meg was. “Thank you for your help tonight Raelynn.” The Argonian said, smiling at the Breton woman before he turned to look at Meg. “Shall we?” He said, motioning towards the door.

No sooner had the door closed that Raelynn flopped down onto her back, her feet planted on the ground. She sighed, turning her head to look over at Gregor. “You’re going to have to peel me off this floor tonight…” a tired laugh tumbled from her lips and she sighed again.

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

It's a bit shorter than my usual posts, for which I'm sorry, but I finally managed to get up something. Sorry for the long wait.

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

"Yes, it'd seem like I underestimated the creature." Nicademus said in reply to Alice's aside. He hadn't expected the Mantiraus to possess the ability to shoot lightning out of it's mouth, a fact that made the possibility of an easy victory all that much less likely if not outright impossible. He nodded in response to Alice's request for him and Argon to get the creature's attention, if she could shield them from it's lightning then that would give them a substantial edge in the battle to come.

However, the magic missiles sent by Alice gave Nicademus an idea that, hopefully, would allow them to finally do some true harm to the Mantiraus. "Argon, I'll go first. You stay behind in case to protect Alice." The knight said, waiting for the lizardman to give sign of his agreement, before charging forward towards the Mantiraus.

Using the fact that the Mantiraus' concentration was briefly directed towards the projectiles that Alice had conjured, Nicademus took the chance to direct a strike against the creature's flank. He wasn't sure just how strong the hide of the beast was, but he doubted that it'd be able to withstand a strike from a valdium blade. Still, it'd be key for him to strike quickly and then regroup with Alice and Argon or, otherwise, he'd risked being mauled by the Mantiraus once the creatures attention was redirected towards him.

@The Fated Fallen@Gardevoiran@BCTheEntity@Fetzen@Stormflyx@POOHEAD189

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

”And so the dead shall bury the dead.”

- Ethrain, lich and necromancer of the 2nd Era

5th Midyear - Late Afternoon
Somewhere by the docks

It was a quiet and typically balmy evening down by the docks of Gilane, the scent of the ocean hung around the air as three sharply dressed mercenaries sat around a table - each with an ale in hand and a smile on their face, and the fourth member of their party was jumping around in a show of bravado for his comrades.

“Gilane is the place to be, and our enemies don’t want to cross us, I’ll slash their guts out and wear them as a necklace...” Grinned the small looking Imperial youth, with his humble looking shortsword in hand.

“Sit your arse down, Jon - before you have your own eye out with that needle! You’ll be slashing at air and nothing but,” chuckled a dashing looking Breton, whose appearance alone commanded attention. The way he spoke oozed charisma and his eyes twinkled - the obvious leader of the group.

“Ahhh, shut up Laf. I’m just excited to be here - be off that fuckin’ boat at last. Stretch my legs on the warm sands of Gilane-”

“-And I’m ready to stretch myself around Gilane in other ways. Lock up your daughters!” Was the guffaw that erupted from a mountainous looking Nord in plate armour. He had a steel axe slung over his shoulder and his voice was loud and full of an unmistakable arrogance. He raised his tankard to his thin lips to down the rest of his ale.

“Now now, behave yourself Hercules,” spoke Laf, patting the Nord on the back with a content laugh. “We have to be on the job tomorrow, let’s make this a night that we’ll tell stories about forever! We’re just a bunch of ragtags, my friends. Let's be victorious in our endeavours together!” He stood up from his own seat and spoke to his friends, “let us make these red sands redder with blood stains!” Both Jon and Hercules laughed and cheered for him - raising their glasses. The fourth, a Khajiit, remained hunched over his ale - a sombre disposition painted upon his features. Clearly he was displeased by his companions. An impressive looking spear was propped up against the table beside him. He remained silent.

“What say you, Arin?” asked Laf, with a grin, patting his Khajiit companion on the back as he had done so with the others. Arin merely nodded his head and took a set of large gulps from his tankard. “Whatever you say, boss.”

An athletic swordsman, an armoured Nord warrior, a Khajiit lancer, and a Breton mage continued to enjoy their first night in Gilane - little did they know that it would also be their last...

Having crept so close to them that he could already smell their stink on the air, Gregor dashed out from behind one of the many crates that stood uselessly along the dock’s pier and charged into the woefully unprepared and utterly surprised group of mercenaries. The lower half of his face was hidden by a scarf and, combined with the all-black battledress and hooded cloak that was his signature, Gregor looked like a villain from the children’s horror stories of his homeland. Before anyone could properly process and react to what happened, Gregor’s crackling claymore struck Hercules across his shoulder, finding a weak spot in the plate armor, and a spout of blood arced through the air while tendrils of lightning surged over his body, seizing up the big Nord’s muscles. He hoped that the other mercenaries would be so taken aback by the sudden attack that they would back away towards the edge of the pier, where something even worse than him was waiting in the wings.

“What the FUCK?!” Hercules cried out in shock before throwing his tankard down onto the table, grabbing his battleaxe - the weight suddenly more than he had remembered it being. A combination of being smashed in the shoulder and smashed from the ale. He pivoted to face a man in black as his friends all armed themselves too. Jon plucked up his shield and wiped his brow with a smirk. Laf clapped his hands and lit them up with Magicka that was forming there. The Khajiit merely stood, collecting his lance stoically. He did not yet believe this intruder to the party to be a threat. He was outnumbered for a start. “Be careful, Hercules. Don’t be arrogant,” he remarked to the Nord - who was absolutely going to be as arrogant as he could.

“Let’s dance then!” laughed Hercules in the direction of his attacker as he clumsily drove himself forward, waving the axe haphazardly at Gregor. “This one means business I see…” the Nord growled, backed by the Breton who shot at him with golden restorative magic. “Arin, Jon, get back. Let’s see how this plays out for our new friend here,” said Laf as he watched, waiting for the scene play out.

Distracted as they were by Gregor’s sudden appearance, none noticed the pair of scaled hands that grabbed the edge of the pier from underwater. Jaraleet climbed silently, with the soft sound of the dripping water being the only sign of his presence as he made no sound with his footsteps as he approached their foes. It didn’t take too long for the Haj-Eix to pick a target, deciding to take out the Khajiit lancer first; both he and Gregor fought using swords and long ranged weapon like a spear could very easily complicate things for the both of them.

With a target decided, things occured in a split second. Jaraleet wrapped one arm around the Khajiit’s neck and before he or any of his companions had time to react, the Argonian threw himself back into the water along with his fellow betmer. Once they were under water, Jaraleet wasted not a second in pulling his dagger from its sheath - sinking the blade into the Khajiit’s shoulders so as to reduce any possibility of surfacing for air for his foe.

As the Argonian reached for his dagger, so did the nimble Khajiit. Arin pulled it from his side and thrust it backwards - fighting against the grip of the new foe, the water, and the sudden pain. He was in trouble.

Meanwhile, up top, Laf and Jon were left aghast - the situation was getting out of hand; “where in Oblivion are Alexei and Thom?” yelled Laf as he shot a fireball from his right hand towards the cloaked fiend who was closing in on Hercules. “We could use the backup - Jon, go and find them!”

A single fireball was hardly enough to deter the menacing Imperial. He swiftly conjured a ward and Lafayette’s spell detonated harmlessly against its shimmering surface. Gregor did not break his stride, emerging through the roiling cloud of smoke left behind by the fireball’s impotent explosion, and continued to bear down on Hercules, brandishing his claymore with a flourish. He had seen how Jaraleet had already taken the Khajiit down with him into the murky depths below. Their plan was working. Once again, Gregor’s blade arced through the air, seeking Hercules’ flesh, but the Nord was ready for him now and blocked the attack. No matter. Gregor was merely buying time.

Hercules once again hurled his axe forward toward the Imperial, his initial wound closed for now. Who is this man? he thought as he felt an almighty strength behind his blade, and a feeling of absolute dread when his eyes met that of his foes. He had little idea of what was happening behind him, except for the Breton mage, Lafayette’s failed attempt to push the Imperial back had been futile. Sweat formed upon his brow but he tensed his arms, muscles rippling under his armour. “What in the fuck, Lafayette?” he cursed aloud, so sharply that spit flew from his lips. Hercules pushed back against Gregor, letting his size do the talking - he was much larger than this man, he would use it to his advantage.

The Breton mage once again rubbed his palms together, forming up another spell - he waited for the arrival of the last two members of their group.

While the rest of the group continued to fight Gregor, under the waters Jaraleet and Arin continued their struggle under the murky depths of the harbor. Unfortunately for the Khajiit, the long time under the water, coupled with the wounds that the Argonian had inflicted, meant that what energy he had to resist was quickly dissipating the longer his fight against Jaraleet went on.

His attempt at stabbing the Haj-Eix with his dagger had been unsuccessful, as Jaraleet had easily enough dodged the blow from the dagger, with the Argonian only receiving a shallow cut to his side for all of Arin’s efforts. Realizing that he was wasting too much time dealing with the Khajiit, the Argonian sunk his dagger into his foe’s throat, making sure to perforate the jugular to ensure that there would be no chance of survival.

Letting go of the soon to be deceased Khajiit, Jaraleet swam away from Arin but not before turning one last time to face his victim. “There’s no point in struggling. Accept the call of Sithis and return to the Void.” The Haj-Eix mouthed under the water before turning back in the direction of the pier. It didn’t take him too long to swim back to the surface and to climb the dock’s pier, accustomed as he was to swimming with his gear in person.

Back on to dry land, Jaraleet began approaching the Breton mage. With the Khajiit out of the way, the mage presented the biggest threat to the success of their mission so it was imperative for him to be taken out.

With their Khajiit foe taken care of and Jaraleet joining the fray proper, Gregor stopped wasting time. He had fought Nords before; their prodigious strength and size were always a problem but he knew that they rarely possessed finely honed technique. The Imperial stepped in quickly and locked the shaft of Hercules’ battleaxe into the large and complicated crossguard of Gregor’s claymore. He twisted his body, stomped down on Hercules’ foot and ripped the battleaxe right out of the Nord’s hands. This would have been the moment for Lafayette to intervene, Gregor knew, but Jaraleet would take care of that. It was nice to have a partner in combat he could rely on, Gregor thought to himself while swinging his claymore at the now-disarmed Nord, forcing him to either evade the attack or suffer the consequences.

Hercules snarled in the face of Gregor, before jumping back out of his range, taking side by Lafayette who had been busy forming up thunder magicka in both of his palms. The thunder would almost certainly tickle the drenched Argonian who had found his way onto the pier. Hercules panted, to catch back his breath. Without Jon, it was one on one now. But Lafayette knew that their backup was on the way soon, and then their attackers would be outnumbered. Just why they were attacking was a mystery to him. “Bet you long for your old job, Hercules!” he jabbed at his friend by his side, “you know that right now, Lafayette, I’d rather head to Sovngarde standing for something meaningful…” was the hulking, wounded Nord’s reply. “I’m not going to allow it,” smirked the Breton, as he saw off in the distance three figures rushing towards the scene.

On either side of Jon, were two more Nords. One, another man - perhaps larger than Hercules - with a broadsword in his hand, and on the other side, another man with a broadsword - only his was lit with a flame.

The sudden attack from the part of the mage had caught Jaraleet by surprise, the lightning easily coursing through his entire body. It was only thanks to his training that the Haj-Eix merely fell to one knee instead of falling unconscious outright but, still, he knew that it was only a matter of time before he could no longer stand the barrage with which Lafayette was attacking him. Willing his body to move, Jaraleet moved one of his hands to pull one of the bottles of poison that he always carried with him while on missions and, using as much strength as he could muster, threw it towards Lafayette’s face.

The sudden impact disrupted the mage’s concentration, stopping the flow of thunder magicka from the Breton’s hands. Now free of the electricity that had been wracking his body with pain, Jaraleet quickly unsheathed his sword and dagger and closed the gap between him and the Breton, driving his sword through Lafayette’s throat. However, the short respite that the Argonian felt at eliminating the mage was quickly swept aside as he noticed the trio of individuals that were heading in their direction. Shaking his head, Jaraleet moved closer towards Gregor, giving the Imperial man a quick look “Let’s get rid of this brute quickly, we have more company incoming.” The Haj-Eix said before moving to attack Hercules.

Gregor agreed with a solemn nod and moved to catch Hercules in a pincer vice. If Jaraleet was the anvil, Gregor would be the hammer. While the disarmed Nord had to defend himself against the Argonian, Gregor circled around and brought the heavy weight of the claymore down on Hercules repeatedly. With Lafayette dead there was nobody left to save him from the Imperial’s blade and he fell to his knees, blood gushing from the severe lacerations across his shoulders and his torso. Lowering his claymore by his side, Gregor unsheathed his dagger and slashed it across Hercules’ exposed throat; he was done for.

But that did not mean he no longer had a role to play in the fight. Gregor looked at Jaraleet for a few seconds, his brown eyes inscrutable, before pale blue light began to swirl around his palm. Two tendrils of magic shot through the air and connected with the corpses of Lafayette and Hercules and, as if controlled by the invisible wires of a dark puppeteer, the Breton and the Nord rose from the ground, their eyes aglow with the same cerulean magic that animated them. Hercules’ axe returned to his hands and the spark of fire magic reignited in Lafayette’s, and the two zombies set their sights on the approaching trio of enemies.

“Now you know,” Gregor said softly to Jaraleet.

Jaraleet looked on as the corpses of their recently deceased foes stood again. He was no mage but he knew what the cerulean light in the eyes of the reanimated corpses meant: Necromancy. Gregor was a necromancer. “And so the final piece of the puzzle falls in place.” The Argonian said calmly, unperturbed by Gregor’s display of power. “We can speak about this later, for now there are foes to take care of.” The Argonian said, looking at the zombies and then at Gregor as a plan of action formulated in the assassins mind.

“Send them to distract our foes.” He said while reaching for two vials of poison. He handed one to Gregor, looking at the Imperial in the eyes. “Here, for your claymore. Should one of their reinforcements manage to slip away the poison shall take care of them.” The Haj-Eix said in a matter-of-fact tone, pausing briefly for a second as he thought. “You know restoration magic as well, if I remember correctly. If you have enough magicka, it would be wise for us to heal while your puppets distract them.” The Argonian added, falling silent as he opened the vial of poison and began carefully applying it to his blade.

As Jon, Alexei, and Thom approached the two enemies, it was Jon who was first crestfallen at the sight of his friend’s reanimated corpses, filled with an untempered rage, he took an emotional dive at Lafayette, his mentor, his friend. “God’s be damned!” he screamed out - his voice breaking, sobs held back as he swung to clip his blade into the shoulder of the vessel. “I’m so sorry…” he mouthed, eyes welling with tears - it would be his downfall to show such emotion on the field. It had been Lafayette himself who had tried to teach the young Nord to restrain himself and think clearly. Oh how the boy had failed him…

As Alexei rushed forwards, he swung his flaming sword with force - allowing the flame to roll off the blade and hurtle towards Hercules. He had to take down his own friends. Except this was doing him a favour, freeing him from the will of the Necromancer, sending him peacefully to Sovngarde - as he would wish.

With Hercules and Lafayette engaged, it was Thom who dashed towards the puppetmaster himself. The lizard looked worse for wear, which gave him cause to smirk. It was just like the Dwemer to hire such minions with foul tactics. He would put them down with ease like he had so many criminals already.

While Gregor was relieved to see that his intuition about Jaraleet had been correct and the Argonian was indeed the pragmatic operative he had assumed him to be, there was no time to dwell on the fact as one of the two Nords charged directly at him. Gregor preferred being on the defensive; it gave him the opportunity to observe and react instead of having to blindly trust on his own skills. He gripped his claymore tightly with both hands and methodically blocked and parried the ferocious strikes from Thom’s broadsword. Once again, his opponent’s technique was not astounding and Gregor’s superior experience and clarity of mind allowed him to read and dissect Thom’s combat style. After a few exchanges, he caught a wide swing on his claymore and pushed back, crackling arcs of shock magic traveling up the length of the massive blade and onto Thom’s broadsword, stinging the Nord’s arms and forcing him to back off.

Gregor’s eyes flashed dangerously and he went on the offensive.

Meanwhile, Lafayette and Hercules were more resilient in undeath than they had ever been in life and Jon’s sword having cleaved into Lafayette’s shoulder did not seem to stop him. Flames roared to life as the Breton sorcerer raised his good hand and doused Jon in a stream of fire magic, his face slack and devoid of any emotion at all. Hercules had taken Alexei’s firestrike to the chest and, while it was undoubtedly effective against the towering zombie, it was not enough to bring him down and Hercules met Alexei’s sword with his own battleaxe, gurgling something far beyond the speech of the living through his slit throat.

Jon felt the burning take over so quickly, it ran across his clothing and burnt through it effortlessly and met skin. He screamed in pain, it grew louder and sharper, his pain became a ringing sound in the ears of Alexei and Thom, who couldn't do a thing to help. The screaming stopped.

“No!” yelled Alexei as he pushed back against the undead Hercules with a swift kick to his chest he toppled him and rushed to Thom's aid. Everything was futile now, they had no hope of finishing this victorious, his grimaced at the Necromancer, and laid a healing hand against his friend. “We stood for something, Thom, we stood against the Dwemer - remember that…” it was in a low hiss of a voice, the Argonian would have missed it, the Imperial may have caught it over the sound of electricity and static. “Aye, you're right about it…” he replied in a pained groan as he swung his sword around again. He would die in glory, not on his knees. “For liberty!” he shouted out against the sun setting on the horizon behind the Imperial. He would go to it now.

In the heat of the moment, Gregor heard but did not really register what Alexei said and was focused entirely on not letting Thom disembowel him with his final attack. The Nord had seemingly resigned himself to his fate and that made him dangerous. Gregor had to duck low to avoid the whistling edge of the broadsword and actually found himself being forced back for a bit, grimacing as he mustered his full strength to block Thom’s slashes and thrusts. His mind reached out to direct Hercules but he found that his minion had already collapsed into dust and ash. Lafayette, on the other hand, was still intact after having dispatched Jon in the most gruesome of ways, and Gregor willed him to strike Thom with the same thunderbolt that had nearly incapacitated Jaraleet. The loud bang and bright flash of lightning, followed by Thom’s bellows of pain, created all the space Gregor needed to swing his sword high and bring it down across Thom’s neck with all the finality of the grim reaper’s scythe.

The Nord collapsed to the ground, instantly and irrevocably dead. His head rolled off the pier and into the water below.

Alexei, upon witnessing the death of Thom, rushed at Jaraleet, seemingly determined to at least take one of their foes down before he himself was taken down. Perhaps he thought that the Argonian would be the easier target, exhausted as he was after having to endure a direct hit from a thunderbolt, but that would prove to be the final mistake in the Nord’s life.

Jaraleet dodged the blows from the flaming broadsword, albeit he took a couple of glancing blows, and retaliated with strikes of his own. He didn't aim for immediately fatal strikes, going for shallow cuts that'd, instead, spread the poison with which he had coated his blade. The seconds passed by, Alexei continued to attack and Jaraleet continued to dodge the blows of the Nord, and then the poison kicked in. Alexei tried to swing his broadsword one more time but, in the middle of the movement, he suddenly lost his balance and fell to the ground, a cry of pain escaping from his lips as the full effects of the poison manifested themselves in his body.

Jaraleet approached the fallen Nord and knelt in front of him. “Sithis calls you now, landstrider.” The Haj-Eix intoned solemnly in his native tongue, driving his sword cleanly through Alexei’s neck. “[i]And now the river’s currents have carried you to the sea.[i]” The Argonian finished as the life left the Nord’s eyes. Standing up, he turned to look at Gregor and then at the raised corpse of Lafayette. “If it's possible, order him to burn the bodies. We were asked to leave no evidence.” The Argonian said calmly.

“Good idea,” Gregor replied. Hercules had already fallen apart when Alexei defeated him, dissipating the magic that had held him together, and Lafayette would similarly disintegrate, but that still left the rest. Gregor did not even have to look at the Breton zombie to will him into action and Lafayette immolated the corpses with a stream of liquid fire after Gregor and Jaraleet stepped back. Staring into the improvised pyre, Gregor opened his mouth to speak.

“I killed Nblec because I had need of his soul,” he said. He wasn’t sure why he was suddenly being so open and honest with Jaraleet but something, some instinct, told him that it was necessary. “My father’s line is cursed. We all lose our minds when we reach middle age, and then it kills us. There is no cure. I have a younger brother and sister and I need to save them from that fate. And myself, of course. The Ideal Masters of the Soul Cairn are willing to barter the secrets of lichdom in exchange for souls. Eternal life for eternal death. And Dwemer souls… a race that hasn’t been seen for more than a thousand years? I’m sure you can imagine that such a thing is the ultimate prize.” Gregor sighed and turned his head to look Jaraleet in the eye. “Do you understand?”

“I do.” Was Jaraleet’s simple reply, nodding in Gregor’s direction. “Thank you for your honesty.” He said, falling silent for a second as he thought on what to say next. “I will be honest too. As I'm sure you've noticed, I’m more than a mere soldier who deserted the armies of Argonia.” The Argonian said, closing his eyes. “I am Jaraleet of the Haj-Eix.” He intoned, letting out a soft sigh. “We are an order of assassins in the service of the An-Xileel, the rulers of Argonia. We have been trained since childhood to be the assassins and spies that our people would need in order to be safe against threats both from within and from outside.” Jaraleet continued on, opening his eyes and staring at Gregor. “I am part of the first generation of the order, and I was posted in the Imperial City when the Dwemer returned.” The assassin finished, crossing his arms behind his back and turning his gaze back to the pyre. “Do you understand?”

Now it was Gregor’s turn to nod. “That reminds me of something I said to Daro’Vasora at the party: ‘every society needs its own monsters to hunt the ones lurking in the night’. That’s what you are, for the people of Argonia. And it’s what I did for the people of Skyrim, when I hunted down and killed necromancers to take their black secrets for myself -- for a better purpose. I understand very well.” He paused and looked up as Lafayette’s stream of fire ceased and he shattered into dust. The spell had expired. His work was done; the corpses of Jon, Alexei and Thom were naught but ash and soot. “What are your goals now?” Gregor asked, glancing sidelong at Jaraleet.

“Technology.” The Haj-Eix replied as he stared at the pile of ashes and soot that had once been their enemies and that even now the wind was blowing away. “I seek the defeat of the Dwemer and to obtain their technology for my people. Never again shall we be trampled over or enslaved as if we were beasts of burden.”

“Fair enough,” Gregor said and laughed. “After what the Dunmer did to your people, I can’t fault you for that. And then it seems that our common goal of defeating the Dwemer still holds true, aside from our personal quests. Eternal life is not worth it if it has to be lived under the yoke of the butchers of White-Gold tower.”

Jaraleet laughed alongside Gregor, shaking his head slightly. “Indeed, it seems that we still have a common goal my friend. In fact, I believe we might be able to help each other more than we had previously thought now that we are aware of what the other is searching for.” Jaraleet said once his laughter had subsided. “Ah, but I think it'd be best if we left the area for now, wouldn't you agree. It would be rather awkward if we were to be caught here now, to say the least.”

“Yes, let’s.” Gregor sheathed his claymore across his back and pulled his hood firmly over his face. Before they left, he placed his hand on Jaraleet’s shoulder and said, voice earnest: “Thank you, Jaraleet. For understanding.”

“It’s no problem my friend. I should be the one thanking you, I doubt many people would take what I said half as well as you did.” The Argonian replied, smiling at Gregor. “Now, let us be off.” He said, setting off towards Gilane’s backstreets.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Courtyard Admissions

5th of Midyear, Early Morning
Three Crowns Inn, Courtyard

After leaving the conference room in which Daro’Vasora’s party had been hosted, Jaraleet hadn’t wasted time and had gone looking after Meg. Her sudden departure from the party had him worried, it seemed something utterly uncharacteristic of the Meg that he knew, and luckily, thanks to the help of a few of the Poncy Man’s employees that were still up, he had managed to easily locate Meg in the courtyard of the inn. He stood paralyzed for a few seconds, still not noticed by the Nord woman, as he wondered what to do. He wasn’t the best at approaching sensible topics, his chat with Raelynn back at the party had made that rather abundantly clear, and as such indecision paralyzed him as his mind thought about what to do.

In the end, he decided to clear his throat loud enough to catch Meg’s attention. “Are you ok Meg? I noticed your...sudden departure from the conference room and I was worried.” The Argonian said, opting to breach the topic at hand head on, as he slowly approached the Nord woman, his mind still unsure if what he was doing was the right thing.

Meg had been sitting on a low wall that closed in a few exotic trees, simply taking in the fresh night air as she watched the fountains nearby. Her talk with Gregor had her feeling all sorts of wrong, and she didn't know where one started and the other ended. It wasn't just confusing, but the assault of guilt at multiple things as well as not even finding out what she had wanted to made her feel like a failure.

She looked up when she heard the familiar voice; it was clear from the streaks on her face and her slightly swollen eyes that tears had been shed in private. "Oh... Jaraleet." Managing to crack a ghost of a smile, she scooted to the side, just in case the argonian wished to sit down as well.

"I..." Averting her gaze, she looked to the ground, ashamed but also scared he would get angry. "I'm sorry... I... I talked t'him."

It didn’t take too long for Jaraleet to figure who Meg meant when she said that she had talked to him. Gregor. She had spoken to Gregor in spite of what he had told her. Part of him was angry, angry of what this might mean come the future, but the sight of Meg’s tear stricken face made that feeling quickly evaporate. “It’s fine.” He said in the end, letting out a soft sigh.

He moved to the spot where she was sitting and moved to join her. “What happened?” He asked her softly once he had sat on the spot that Meg had made for him. “Is he the reason why you left so suddenly?”

Meg managed to lift her gaze from the ground so that instead rock she was now looking in the argonian's direction... barely. She was relieved; even though she knew he had a right to be angry with her for breaking his trust and doing what she told him she wouldn't. Even just thinking about that caused her mouth to quiver and her eyes to sting.

"I left... I jus' didn' know what t'say anymore. His words... They're... They jus' made my mind confused. He kept tellin' me about you... An' that I shouldn' think badly of you... But... I never- I told him I knew you didn'-" She grasped for words, struggling to make sense but not being able to, and it had her feeling not just frustrated but dimwitted as well. "I should've listened t'ya." Her voice cracked and she looked back down again. "I'm sorry, Jaraleet."

Jaraleet listened in silence, slightly taken aback by the confusion, by the hurt, in Meg’s voice. “By Sithis, what kind of mind games did you play with her Gregor.” The Argonian thought, mentally cursing the Imperial in a brief fit of anger. “It's fine Meg, what's done is done.” He said in the end, letting out a sigh. “I'm more worried about you right now.” He said softly, moving slightly closer to the Nord woman and placing one hand on her shoulder hoping that the act would, at least, bring her a measure of comfort.

Why was he being nice to her? It was like that day in the training gym, except she was the one who messed up this time. She didn't know if she was just too tired or mentally drained or perhaps all the alcohol she had drunk was still affecting her, but Meg couldn't take it any longer, breaking out into quiet sobs as she hid her face in her hands. Shoulders shuddering, she tried to stop herself, even gasping in her attempts to, but it seemed the dam that was her heart had finally broken.

When Meg finally started crying, all thoughts going in Jaraleet’s mind suddenly stopped as he tried, in vain, to think of something that might comfort the grief-stricken Nord woman. In the end, as his mind continued to refuse to provide an answer, Jaraleet moved the arm he had placed on Meg’s shoulder previously so that he was now holding her shuddering form, pulling her a little closer and hoping that, somehow, that'd be enough.

For a split second Meg stiffened, but in the next moment she turned into the hug, still hiding her face though it was against the argonian. It had been a very long time since she had cried like this, perhaps even over a year. By the time she was through she felt rather drained and empty, though not necessarily in a bad way.

She finally moved back; looking at the damp mark on the argonian's shirt, she felt a little embarrassed. "Uh... sorry. Yer shirt's wet..."

A split moment of worry crossed Jaraleet's mind when he felt Meg stiffen after he had hugged her, but he relaxed when he felt the Nord woman turning into the hug. He smiled softly at her, shaking his head slightly, when she apologized for crying into his shirt. “It doesn't matters, don't worry.” He told her softly.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked her softly, concern in his voice. “You know you can talk to me about what happened, right?”

Meg nodded, scooting a little closer to the argonian and resting her head against him despite the wetness from her tears. She didn't think he'd mind seeing his arm was still around her, and if she was being honest with herself, she wanted the closeness and comfort. "Aye... I know I can," she replied. "An' I am feelin' a li'l better... thank you."

She was quiet for a little moment before finally letting out a breath. "He said he was the las' one there, with Nblec... he was s'posed t'take off the shackles? An' that Nblec just... died. Like... he was weak hearted an' whatever y'did t'him was why he died." She tilted her head so that she could see his face. "It was like... he wanted me t'think it was yer fault. Oh- an' he said y'both had talked 'bout it."

“I'm glad to hear that Meg.” He replied when she said that she felt a little better, smiling towards the Nord woman. He didn't mind when she moved a little closer, albeit he wasn't expecting her to rest head against him but, in the end, it didn't bother him. He fell silent as she continued to talk, a frown drawing on his face as Meg mentioned how it seemed like Gregor wanted her to think it was his fault.

“Seems like I'll have to have a chat with him again.” The Argonian thought as Meg mentioned that Gregor had spoken about the chat they had about Nblec’s death. “We had a talk about it, yes. There were a few things that made me wary….but nothing truly conclusive.” He said to her, shaking his head slightly. There were still many things he didn't know about why Gregor had killed Nblec, but the Haj-Eix was determined to find out the reason behind the actions of their unpredictable Imperial comrade.

“I'm guessing it was what he said that made you feel like this?” He asked her softly, concern once more in his voice and a look of worry on his face as he waited for Meg’s replies.

"Yes an' no," was Meg's reply. It was hard to explain, but she felt she needed to make the effort- Jaraleet deserved that much, seeing how concerned he was. "It's ... when I went t'speak with him... I was gonna tell him I thought it was him, an' that he wasn' right puttin' the blame on you ... but I didn' even get t'that." She looked at her hands, remembering how tightly they had gripped her knees. "His words... the way he spoke... He wasn' mean or cruel, nothin’ like that- it was almost nice. It jus' made whatever I was thinkin' feel so stupid. Like, I knew nothin' 'bout anythin'. I jus' felt stupid, a li'l girl who knows nothin' 'bout the world.

"An' maybe he's right." She sighed softly before continuing. "He said that you'd want t'keep things hidden from me t'keep my innocence intact." Like I'm a wee child. "Is that true?"

Jaraleet listened in silence as Meg spoke, letting out a soft sigh when she mentioned that Gregor had said that he'd want to keep things hidden from her so as to preserve her innocence intact. “No, it's not exactly that. I'm not sure how to explain it….” He said, closing his eyes and falling silent shortly afterwards.

The seconds of silence stretched by and when Jaraleet next opened his eyes, there was a distant look to them. As if his eyes weren't looking at the courtyard of the inn but rather at some other, distant, place. “I do not speak of those things not because I believe you are some innocent child Meg….it's just, they are things best left not known.” He said, shaking his head slightly. “The things I've seen...that I've done, they could destroy people. They aren't things that I wished to learn, to have to do, but I just...had to.” He said finally, unconsciously pulling Meg just a bit closer as he closed his eyes again as if to ground himself in the moment.

"I get ya, honest." She glanced at him; the look on his face made her stomach clench and heart ache. What could have happened to him to make him seem so... vulnerable right now? It almost reminded her of her father and his refusal to speak of his days as a soldier. She hadn't been as considerate towards him as she was being towards Jaraleet though.

Meg reached out and took hold of his free hand, squeezing it a little as she spoke, the earnest look on her face matching her voice. "An'... I get that you'll pro'ly havta do what y'do again... not 'cause you wan' to, but because it has t'be done. The world's just like that, ain' it?"

“Yes, it's unfortunate, but that's how the world is.” Jaraleet replied finally, nodding to Meg’s words. “Thank you...for understanding.” He said softly, managing the ghost of a smile before he closed his eyes again and let his head rest back against the nearby wall. He just felt so tired all of a sudden. Maybe it was all the drinking throughout the night, or maybe it was the conversation he just had with Meg but, in that moment, Jaraleet suddenly felt so very tired.

“I should be the one thankin’ you,” Meg replied, smiling as well, though it wavered when she saw how tired the argonian looked. Another pang of guilt twisted at her- she had caused him worry and concern. And yet… she was also happy. It felt nice that somebody cared about her enough to worry like that. “Y’came all the way out here just t’see if I was doin’ okay. I’m lucky t’have someone like you around.”

With that said, she gave his hand one last squeeze before carefully letting go. “Y’look tired… you should sleep. Me too, truth be told. Mara knows it’s been a long day.”

“There’s no need to thank me Meg, I’m just glad that I was able to help you.” He said, smiling at the Nord woman as she squeezed his hand yet again. “Though, you are probably correct in that we should go to sleep.” He added, letting out a soft sigh. The mention of sleep reminded him of the upcoming day, of the mission that he was to undertake with Gregor for Salasoix.

“Come, shall we go to our respective rooms? I can accompany you to your room if you’d like?” Jaraleet offered.

Meg finally stood up from her seat on the wall, stretching out her arms before quickly stifling a yawn. "Soun's like a good idea," she replied with a sheepish laugh. "Hrmm... next time y'see me with a bottle in m'hand, do me a favour an' snatch it away real quick, eh?" Saying that, she reached out with her hand, not that he'd actually need help off the wall.

“Duly noted.” He replied to Meg’s comment, laughing, before he took her offered hand and then stood up from his spot against the wall. “Come, let’s go.” He said once he was standing up, making his way out of the courtyard. Soon enough they were in front of the room that they had been assigned to back when they first had arrived in Gilane and met with the Poncy Man. “And here we are.” The Argonian said, turning his back to the door so as to look at the Nord woman. “Goodnight Meg and, hey, if you feel….like that again, come and talk to me, ok?” Jaraleet said, speaking the last few words before his mind could process them.

Meg blinked at him before smiling. "Aye, I will." She had learned in the last couple of days that with some people it was best to keep quiet, but with others, it made a big difference to speak what was on one’s mind. Even if others thought negatively of him, Meg wasn't about to let their views mar what she thought or felt for Jaraleet. One mistake was enough.

"Thanks, an' you sleep well too." She gave him one last hug before opening the door and heading into the room.

“Good, good.” Jaraleet replied, smiling at Meg. He was surprised when the Nord woman hugged him but he quickly returned the embrace, nodding when she wished him a good night of sleep. “Thank you Meg.” The Argonian said as she returned to her room. Left alone, his mind quickly returned to its usual state and then it hit him what he had just told Meg.

He had told her to come to him if she ever felt like that again and he didn’t regret his words, and yet he couldn’t quite piece what had prompted him to say that. He frowned slightly to himself and began to make his way towards the room that had been assigned to him. He had a lot to think about, ranging from Judena’s words to him to the conversation that had transpired between him and Meg in the aftermath of the party. He had the sinking sensation that, for the first time in a long time, he’d have trouble falling asleep.

Warhammer 40k: Beyond Civilisations Grasp... - A Rogue Trader RP (Full, for now)

@JbcoolStill present as well.

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

And I managed to get my reply in, sorry that it took so long folks. I hope that it's good.

EDIT: Edited my post a bit due to unintentionally puppetering the Mantiraus. Sorry for the mistake folks.

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

The first thought that crossed the knights mind at Calanon's sudden return was that the elf had found something dangerous, which proved to be correct when not a moment after the return of the elven ranger a creature followed in pursuit. Instincts took over after the moment had passed and Nicademus pulled his sword from it's sheath, holding the blade in a defensive posture as he observed the monster that had followed after Calanon. He wasn't an expert in fighting against the kind of creature that the monster was, but years of roaming through the Southlands had taught him and it didn't took to long for the knight to recognise the creature for what it was: a Mantiraus.

And with the realisation of the creature's name came a second, far more sinister, thought. The creature shouldn't have been there. He knew all too well the dangers that roamed throughout the Southlands, but he had scouted near the village recently and there had been no sighting of a beast like the Mantiraus that was now facing the scouting party. "Something must have lured the creature here." He thought grimly, dreading of the consequences that could come if his suspicion proved to be true. Any further thoughts were postponed when he heard Alice, who was telling him to shout for everyone to stand together. "I'm afraid it might be a little late for that." He answered, shaking his head slightly. "The Mantiraus has already scattered us, and I doubt it'll let us regroup so easily. But I'll try nonetheless."

"Everyone, to me!" The knight shouted hoping that, by some luck, the beast would allow the group to regroup. Tense seconds passed but in the end the scattered fighters couldn't regroup, either because the Mantiraus didn't allow them to do so or perhaps because they had a better plan for fighting the beast. "Before you asked me for any advice, yes?" The knight finally said when it looked like regrouping was an impossibility. "You are a mage, no? If so, then I believe that you'll be the key to defeat this monster." Nicademus said, turning his head so he could look at Alice. "My advice is the following, stay behind me and try to hurt the beast with what spells you have. I'll ensure that the beast doesn't gets to you."

"Along with that, it'd best to be prepared to run at a second's notice." The knight added after a moment of consideration. "It could be that the beast will be drawn by our conversation and by my shout. Should that come to pass, make sure to run away from me. I'll stay in this spot and direct the Mantiraus to attack me if possible, between the two of us I am the one who has the best chance to withstand an attack from the beast on account of my armour." Nicademus said grimly, bracing himself in his place in case the beast came. "While I distract it, be sure to take the opening to attack as well. With any luck, we could end this battle in a single stroke should the gods favor us."

@POOHEAD189@Gardevoiran@BCTheEntity@Fetzen@Stormflyx@The Fated Fallen

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

4th of Midyear - Mid-Morning
Salosoix Hawkford’s Residence

The middle-aged Breton had started his day as he always did - by watching the sun rise over Gilane and enjoying tea. While the day started as it always did, his morning ritual brought him less pleasure - and it had been that way since the evening of the 2nd when his daughter and arrived at his Hammerfell home in a state. His mind was addled with terrible thoughts, and as he sat at his desk, he took off his spectacles and wiped the lenses with a small cloth.

He had sent for two of his daughter’s companions - Jaraleet the Argonian, and Gregor. He imagined they would be arriving soon with his favoured guard Zhaib. It had been at least an hour since Zhaib had left in pursuit of the two mysterious men. Salosoix was very much looking forward to meeting them, and had set out two chairs at his table for his guests.

The usual incense was burning in the corner, and his handmaiden was floating around to make sure the place was clear and tidy. The entire room had a magenta glow, and was decorated in turquoise, teal, and cerulean colours - flecks of shiny gold highlighting the furniture. In a word, the room was opulent - brimming with his many treasures. It was a cave of wonders. He smiled to himself as his eyes traversed the room, and then he heard the door open; his guests had arrived.

He rose from his seat - he wore some basic linens underneath a cloak that was far grander - a velvet in a deep emerald green hue - the collar high and grazing his square jawline, his once ash-blonde hair was now grey and slicked back - cut to chin length. His expression was stern as his guests entered.

The more eager of the two to meet Raelynn’s father, Gregor, stepped into the room first. He had been tempted to dress up for the occasion and break out his all-black battledress, but it would have made traveling through the city much more of a hassle (as the guards would be on the lookout for an outfit fitting that description). So, Gregor was dressed in his new clothes instead. He cast an appreciative glance at the resplendent interior, but very swiftly focused his gaze on the man in front of him. Salasoix’s green cloak immediately made him regret his decision. “Sir,” the Imperial said and bowed respectfully all the same. “It is a pleasure to finally meet with you.”

“I concur as well, it's a pleasure to finally meet your Mr. Hawkford.” Jaraleet said as he entered after Gregor, bowing respectfully towards the elder Breton and letting his gaze cover the room in a brief second before turning his attention towards the head of the Hawkford family once more.

“Please, gentleman. There is no need for formalities - call me Sal.” The Breton man said, in a pleasant tone, only a half smile played upon his lips as he eyed up the two arrivals over the top of his spectacles. Paying particular attention to the Imperial. He took his seat once more, and with a wave of his hand he beckoned them to sit in their respective seats. “The pleasure is all mine, or at least it will be if we can come to an arrangement this morning.” He did not mince his words, nor did he bother with further small talk. His warm tone had subsided and was replaced by one far more pressing.

He leaned back into his seat and raised a hand - clicking his fingers to grab the attention of his Redguard handmaiden. “Rhoka?, Rhoka!” he expressed impatiently until she scurried to his desk to meet him, “can you please get some refreshments for our guests - anything they’d like”. He glanced over at Gregor and Jaraleet with his half-smile again.

“Just some cold water for me, thank you,” Gregor said. It was shaping up to be another hot day. He noticed how Salasoix paid extra close attention to him -- no surprises there -- and made an effort to meet the Breton's gaze levelly and to return his half-smile with one of his own. He could immediately see how this man had raised a daughter like Raelynn. He was authoritative and his demeanor demanded respect. With no intentions of doing anything to avoid meeting expectations, Gregor waited patiently while Jaraleet placed his order and for Salasoix to explain his desires.

“I will have come cold water as well, thank you very much.” Jaraleet replied before turning his attention to Salasoix once more. It hadn't escaped the Argonian’s attention the way that the elder Hawkford paid extra attention to his Imperial companion but, he supposed, that made sense given the...closeness between him and Salasoix’s daughter. “Well, what is that you wish to talk with us about?” The assassin asked, wondering what was the reason that the old Breton had summoned him and Gregor to his Gilane residence.

“Just water? How exciting for you both - Rhoka, do as our guests request, and why don't you bring some of that Knafeh too?” Jaraleet was bold, he liked it. He turned his head and gave a smile to him, taking a deep breath before he began to speak, “well my dear daughter seems to believe that you two are the most physically capable in your party. I trust my daughter's judgment…” his eyes moved from Jaraleet to Gregor, where he proceeded to look him over from above the spectacles again, “...sometimes.” He chuckled dryly before leaning forwards, elbows on the desk and his hands meeting each other in front of his face as he exhaled. “I have work for capable men -- and before you ask, yes you will be adequately compensated.”

He dropped his hands and got to his feet, moving to a drawer at the back of the room and plucking out two green velvet coin purses. “Two hundred and fifty septims each, of which you will receive fifty today -- a deposit if you will.” He moved back to his desk, letting the two purses hit the desk as he dropped them. The hefty weight clunking against the mahogany. He hoped it would grab their attention. His own eyes even seemed the glisten at the sound. As he took his seat, he spilled out some of the coins onto the desk in front of him and began slowly and methodically counting. “This mission is very important to me, boys. I require you to keep this one to yourselves…”

His voice grew cold and he met both of their eyes with his - an icy blue that matched Raelynn’s exactly. “It seems that our Dwemer overlord has been inviting undesirables to this beautiful city…” He slid the pile of fifty septims to Jaraleet first, before turning to count from the second coin purse. “Nasty little creatures who stalk the innocent in the night… Not very good now, is it?” He asked with a weary sigh, coins clinking in one hand, fingers strumming against the desk in the other. The air around him grew tense until Rhoka arrived to break it with a pitcher of ice water, glasses, and a pastry selection.

“Thank you dear,” he said sharply, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. “Oh and Rhoka? Can you do a better job of cleaning the walls…” The redguard woman bowed her head and scurried off again. “As I was saying - fucking undesirables.”

That was cause for Gregor to sit up even straighter. He had come from a reasonably wealthy background but life on the road was rough and he hadn’t exactly come into a lot of money lately. Two hundred and fifty septims was a very significant sum of money to him in the current state of his financial affairs. “Undesirables,” Gregor repeated and cleared his throat. “Do I take this to mean criminals, sir? Or something worse? I have plenty of experience either way. Vampires, bandits, necromancers, murderers -- it’s all the same to me,” he said matter-of-factly. It could be construed as a boast, but Gregor merely wanted his potential employer to know the full range of his abilities and previous encounters. He tried to ignore that he was speaking to Raelynn’s father. Business was business.

“Fantastic, bravo,” he said with a smile as a laugh escaped him. He turned to face Jaraleet with a shit-eating grin, “perhaps you would like to recite your resume of achievements, too, Argonian!” He delighted in potentially embarrassing this man in front of his colleague. His laughter quickly dropped and his expression changed entirely - cold and incredibly serious, “the kind of verminous scum that would hurt even innocent women and children, Gregor. Criminal enough for you?”

Gregor shifted in his seat and an almost imperceptible frown appeared on his face. “Quite,” he said tersely.

Jaraleet chuckled softly at Salasoix’s words, but his mood changed as quickly as that of the head of the Hawkford family. “I would have no problems taking on this task for you, sir.” He said, pouring himself a glass of water and taking a sip. “Tell me the name, and location, of our target and it will be done.” The assassin said, his voice now serious as the topic had seemed to return to the work that Salasoix had in mind for them.

“That's what I like to hear.” Sal said in a resonant voice, “if you are both to partake in this mission I require your word that you will follow my instruction to the letter… Don't think I didn't hear about the capture mission. Quite catastrophic…” He lifted his own glass to his lips, and continued counting out Gregor's coins with his free hand. “Mark my words, if either of you fuck this one up…” A dark laugh was spat into the glass at his lips, “I will not be quite as forgiving as the Poncy Man. So it is a good job that my instructions are clear.”

Annoyed, Gregor opened his mouth against his better judgement. “As I recall, the problem with the capture mission was that the target died. You are sending us to kill people now. So, I don’t think that’s something you should worry about.”

He placed his glass back down onto the table, twisting it in its spot just so - as if to make it sit in a specific way. Once he was satisfied he raised his eyes to the mouthy Imperial, about ready to chastise him there and then. He narrowed his eyes and drew a breath, holding a stare upon Gregor. “You're right,” he softened into his seat and placed the last coin on the pile of septims for Gregor’s deposit before sliding it over to him, a friendly smile replacing the previous expression. “I just need you both to understand that the stakes are high, at least to me anyway. I've heard some tales of a sordid creature… a filthy Khajiit who has some rather grotesque methods. These are his henchman if my information is to be correct.” He waited with a smirk to watch the penny drop, and for Gregor to bite onto the hook.

Too hungry for blood to be cautious and wary, Gregor tore into the hook like a shark does to horkers. “I see,” he said, but the intensity in his gaze betrayed his emotions. “They will die, to be sure, but is there no chance that they know more about where this Khajiit makes his lair?”

“You get ahead of yourself,” he purred from his side of the desk, his eyes moving to Jaraleet with another playful grin, “is he always this impatient? Does he know nothing of planning?” With his hands now free he strummed his fingers against his desk and laughed dryly once more. “Gregor, Gregor… I want to get his attention and draw him out of his cesspool and into the light of day.” Sal’s head tilted to the side and he brought his hands together. “Missing henchmen will get his attention and slow down the sepsis he is spreading.”

“You'll do only as I ask, nothing more, nothing less. Are we on the same page?”

“I understand.” Jaraleet said, his voice firm and resolute. He could understand what Salasoix was asking of him and Gregor, it was after all what he had been molded all of his life to be. A tool of murder. One that was, ultimately, disposable if the situation called for it. “I understand,” he repeated, taking a second to look at Gregor. “What is needed of us, what is expected of us. The job will be done.”

Taking the Argonian’s cue, Gregor kept his thoughts to himself. Salasoix was his employer now, he would have to do what was demanded of him. “Nothing more, nothing less,” Gregor echoed, his voice flat.

The Breton opened a drawer from his side of the desk and removed a rolled parchment from within, handing it to Jaraleet. “The location is marked on the map, you will be there and ready at sunset on the fifth, that's tomorrow evening - no earlier and no later.” He had another drink from his glass, obsessively placing it in the same manner as he had before, “dispose of the men quickly. Oh, and when I say dispose… Leave no trace of their bodies. I want it to look like they were never even there.”

He brought his hands back into a point, elbows on the desk and a smile on his face. “I will have your payments dropped off so you don't have to come back and we can pretend this never happened.”

Jaraleet nodded as he took the rolled parchment from Salasoix’s hands. “I understand sir.” He replied. He could easily understand what was asked of him, and that brought him a sense of comfort and familiarity that had been sorely lacking in the last couple of months. It seemed as if, for a second, he was back in Argonia taking orders from his An-Xileel handlers. “We will accomplish our mission.” The Argonian said resolutely before turning to look at Gregor. “Shall we leave?” He asked his Imperial companion, knowing that there was nothing else to be discussed. They had their mission parameters and that was all they needed to complete their mission.