Avatar of Mortarion
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    1. Mortarion 10 yrs ago

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7 yrs ago
Current Sometimes I wonder whether or not my trust is misplaced or not, especially when it seems that the trust I place in some people isn't reciprocated.
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7 yrs ago
All that is gold does not glitter; not all those who wander are lost; the old that is strong does not wither; deep roots are not reached by the frost.
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8 yrs ago
Currently in exam periods at University after a full month of mobilization and a constant strike Things arent looking well so ill either be busy trying to save the semester or not because its lost
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8 yrs ago
I should re-read the Lord of the Rings one of these days
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8 yrs ago
Is it wierd that, whenever I am stressed I want to RP? I don't know, helps keep my mind off of certain things. Don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing.
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Most Recent Posts

I'm here to also express my interest, if there's room for one more
Cool cool, if that's the case, I'll work on a sheet then if there's still room for one more!
I'm tentatively interested in joining this. But, I do have one slight question, I know you say no classic Forsaken which I understand, since they do look like rotting corpses and all-that, but I was wondering, since you are allowing Death Knights, would a Forsaken-aligned Death Knight still be accepted? Kinda curious about that since, not gonna lie, the Forsaken are one of my favorite factions but I understand if that wouldn't be allowed.
The Interrogation


13th Midyear - afternoon - The Three Crowns Hotel




With a full bag in one hand, and her satchel over her shoulder, Raelynn made her way through the halls of the Three Crowns again. It was such a foreign place to her now. She thought back to her first night in Gilane - how much freedom she thought was ahead of her. She bit her lip, running a finger over the gilded frame of a painting of the Palace. Freedom she through to herself as she kept walking, the weight of Sora’s journals giving her pain in her hand. “God’s why does this Khajiit write so much?” She said scornfully under her breath, before the spluttering sound of a cough gave her cause for shock. It was coming from behind the door of one of her companions dorms.

It didn’t sound healthy, and so she approached the door - not about to just burst in, but she did give a light knock and spoke out against it, “are you alright in there? Do you need help?”

“Perhaps…” Jaraleet replied between coughing fits. He wasn’t really sure why the coughing fit had started; maybe it had to do with all the blasted sand in the air? He was certain that it was no disease, the Saxhleel were known for their immunity to most, if not all, diseases known throughout Nirn. Poison was out of the question as well, if during the showdown at Al-Aqqiya he had been hit with a poison strong enough to affect him, well, it’s effects wouldn’t have waited for so long to manifest themselves. Any further thoughts were interrupted as another coughing fit wracked his body, causing the Argonian to frown to himself. “I’ll be at the door in a second.” He spoke once the coughing had subsided once again.

Making his way to the door and opening, he was surprised to find Raelynn was the one who had knocked. “Raelynn, I’m glad to see you.” The Argonian replied, smiling at the Breton woman. From a simple glance it could be garnered that the Argonian was exhausted and that he hadn’t had a particular restful night of sleep and yet, in spite of that, the assassin seemed to be in a good mood. “Sorry that I didn’t recognize you before, these cursed coughs have me quite distracted.” He apologized, before motioning towards the room. “Come, why don’t you make yourself a bit comfortable. I don’t have much to offer but, well, it beats talking while standing, no?”

Raelynn wanted to smile back at him, but she could once again tell by his manner of moving that he had been hurt. But she played along and made her way to an armchair in the corner and sat down in it. Quite happy to do so - the heels were beginning to sting at this point. It was nice to be off her feet. “Jaraleet…” She began in a soft voice, hiding the curiosity that was lingering somewhere within. She just looked at him, and her eyes immediately reflected her innermost thoughts. “Oh damnit, what's the use in hiding it and trying to sweet talk it out of you? What happened to you this time?”

The Breton's brows furrowed, but not in a way that indicated she was all that cross, it was a look of disappointment. “Who hit you, and with what?”

“There’s no hiding anything from you, is there?” The Argonian said, chuckling somewhat nervously. “If it’s any consolation to you, I’ve already had my ear chewed off by Meg. She was more upset than you, as a matter of fact, so maybe we could skip through the chastising lecture?” He continued on, shaking his head slightly. “But, to answer your question. It was a redguard woman, don’t ask me her name for I didn’t learn it, and she hit me with a scimitar, straight through my guts. Took her out shortly afterwards or we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” The assassin said, taking a seat in the armchair opposite to the one Raelynn had taken. “I am fine now, or at least better.” He added, trying to appease the Breton healer’s worries.

“Jaraleet, I can tell from the way a man walks whether or not his bits are rotting off. There's not a lot I haven't seen, there's little else you can hide from me.” She grinned, it wasn't often that she was crude - but she did occasionally enjoy springing it on people. “So she stuck you with something pointy and didn't even take you on a date first?” She purred out the words, rather enjoying herself. If she wasn't allowed to chide him, she would at least make fun of him. He seemed well enough, save for the cough, but she could get to the bottom of that easily enough. “Happen here in Gilane did it?” She raised an eyebrow, and almost shit-eating grin tugging at her lips as she awaited her answer.

“Terribly impolite of her, wasn’t it?” The Argonian replied to the Breton’s jab, chuckling softly. He shook his head when she asked him if it had happened here in Gilane. “No, it didn’t, it took place in the ruins of a town….some 17 miles away from here if my calculations are right.” He answered, relaxing against the armchair. “Had to repay a favor to Sevari, the man who dug out that bullet if you recall.”

“Mmhmmm… And he didn't do a good job of it if I recall correctly. Actually, I met him earlier today. He was a bit sheepish honestly…” Her eyes glanced down at the ground as she thought back to the meeting. “You've missed a fair bit - but it seems I have too, actually.” Raelynn shrugged and brought her eyes back up to meet Jaraleet's. “In fact… You trust me don't you?”

“Really now, that’s interesting. Wonder why that was…” The Argonian said in reply to Raelynn’s words. It was surprising that she had met the Ohmes-Raht, and even more surprising was imagining him to act sheepishly for some reason. It didn’t seem to fit with what he knew of the Khajiit but, then again, he didn’t knew everything about him. “Yes, I do. Why do you ask?”

She placed her hands on the arms of the chair, fingers lightly grasping at the velvet upholstery. “Well, like I said. You missed quite a bit… I may have inadvertently gained some form of favour with Sevari, maybe not. I don't know, oh… I don't know what I'm saying. I shouldn't, it doesn't matter now…” Her words came out quickly, in a manner which was unlike her. “I did something, an act of kindness - a moment of weakness, I don't know. I just don't know what it means for all of us. What it damn well means for me.

Jaraleet was silent as Raelynn’s words spilled forth from her mouth. She might have done something that could have, inadvertently, gained them some favour with Sevari? He wondered what that could be specifically and, more importantly, why it seemed to trouble Raelynn so. “Raelynn.” The Argonian said, his voice calm. “Take a deep breath and tell me what it is you did.” He said softly.

Her eyes once again met Jaraleet's, and she opened her mouth as if to speak, but stopped herself - thinking over the words so as not to get so flustered. “I spared the life of Zaveed. I… Saved the life of Sevari's brother.” She was curious to see Jaraleet's reaction, she knew that he knew of what Zaveed had done. While she was somewhat at peace with her decision and her choice, she wanted to test the waters of what the others would think. “It troubles me less now… It was not an easy decision, and I do not know what will happen as a result - it just happened. I could do nothing else...” She nibbled at her thumb nervously, awaiting his reaction with a bated breath.

Jaraleet was silent for a few seconds as he processed what Raelynn had just told him. “I see. That was a big risk you took, as I’m sure you’re aware.” The Argonian said, falling silent once more as he continued thinking. “I can’t say that I understand why you did what you did. But it was your decision and I respect that. It might come to hurt us in the future but, like you’ve said, Zaveed is Sevari’s brother. That might be a boon to our group in the long run.” He mused out loud, drumming his fingers against the armrest of his chair. “I’m not sure how the others might react. Some worse than others, that’s for sure, but whatever comes, I’ll stand behind you and your decision Raelynn.”

He hadn't asked questions, he hadn't questioned her. He just gave his word for her. She didn't understand why, and perhaps she didn't need to. “Thanks Jaraleet… That means a lot.” She was worried only about Daro'Vasora's reaction, truthfully. Everyone else could be as angry as they liked, it mattered not to her. But it was the Khajiit who had lost her friend to Zaveed… She sniffed and blinked quickly, so as not to let a tear fall. Jaraleet had surprised her today. “So… yeah, you got stabbed by a Redguard woman then - so what else happened?” She asked with a smile, changing the subject as quickly as she had the first time.

“It is no problem Raelynn, there’s no need to thank me. I’m merely glad to have been of help.” The Argonian said, smiling at the Breton. “Hmmm, in truth, I do not know much else of what happened. Whoever those people were, they obviously knew Sevari. There was one, a Khajiit, with whom Sevari exchanged some words before he slit his throat. They seemed to have known each other for quite a long time but I’m afraid that I didn’t hear the particular details of their final conversation.” He said, drumming his fingers against the armrest of his chair once more as he thought. “Whoever they were, they seemed to regard Sevari as a traitor for some motive. But I wouldn’t why that is. After what went down in there, well, I think we were all too exhausted to start questioning Sevari over every little detail of his past or how that related to what had just happened.”

Raelynn just listened, trying to picture the scene in her mind. It sounded gruesome and personal. “I admit Jaraleet, I don't know whether to trust Sevari, he has given us reason not to before but… There was something almost defeated in his eyes today, they were hanging with guilt and well, I'm torn. I hope he'll become an asset to us. We need all the help we can get, don't we?” She crossed one leg over the other and propper her head up on her hand in the chair. “Sounds like quite the mission though. Are you absolutely sure you don't need me to take a look at you at least?” The Breton didn't give him time to respond before she shook her head and sighed, “no, stuff it - I'm much too curious to see where this woman got you, take off your shirt.” She tried to play it off with humour, but she wasn't going to leave until she'd given Jaraleet a once over at the very least. She had a pretty good idea as to why he was coughing, but she'd keep that to herself until she ruled out anything else. “Doctor's orders I'm afraid.”

“Hmmm, that we do, that we do.” Jaraleet replied with a sigh to Raelynn’s comment about them needing all the help they could get. He was about to answer her second question when she suddenly spoke again, letting out a chuckle as she finished speaking. “I was about to say yes anyway, but now that you’ve brought up the ‘doctor’s orders’ tactic I don’t really have any say, do I?” The Argonian said, laughing slightly. He stood up from his chair and removed his shirt easily enough; with that out of the way, Raelynn would be able to see quite a few semi-healed wounds on the Argonian’s arms albeit her gaze would probably be drawn first and foremost to the still-healing wound on his stomach.

She raised an eyebrow and stood from the chair slowly, examining the Argonian's body with a heavy gaze. After a few moments of clucking her tongue, tutting, and sighing as she circled him, she placed two fingers against his stomach wound which was looking by far the worst. “She really wanted to kill you my friend. But this will heal nicely if you have someone from the infirmary apply Close Wounds magicka. They're not as good as me of course,” she said with an arrogant smirk and she bent over to look at it more closely. As she pressed the skin around it, the wound re-opened slightly and shot a single spurt of blood forwards. Raelynn held a pressure on it and raised an eyebrow. “Your coughing has kept this one from healing faster, Jaraleet. Get it closed off downstairs before the day ends.”

“Hmm, and here I thought this was how the Redguards expressed their love.” The Argonian replied, smirking slightly, albeit a small hiss of pain soon escaped from his lips as the wound re-opened slightly as a result of Raelynn’s prodding. “Hmmm, will do, will do. Speaking of which, can you tell me precisely why I have this cough?” Jaraleet asked, curious as to why it had begun. “I’m fairly sure that a disease is out of the question, given my species, and, well, if it was the result of a poison of some kind, I doubt I’d be in a state to have idle conversations, or alive for that matter.” He said, scratching his chin slightly as he thought. “So, in your opinion, why did this start all of a sudden? I was fine last night, in case you were curious.”

“You're right, it's neither a disease nor a poison.” She smiled, amused at how much thought the Argonian had given it, and she stood up straight to her full (small) height. An arrogant smirk returned as she almost playfully began to pace around him, with a hand propper under her chin like some kind of detective. “I deduced that you have recently travelled 17 miles through desert… You've got sand irritation in your chest, probably nose and throat too. Nothing serious, just uncomfortable.” Raelynn folded her arms over her chest with a coy smile. “Water, a hot towel on your chest and some honey will clear that up.” There was something else he'd said that had piqued her interest, and now was as good a time as any to ask him, and so she resumed her pacing. She let her eyes narrow as if she were interrogating him as seriously as a detective might… “So, Megana? She scolded you?” There was a glint of mischief in her eye, she'd seen how the Nord girl had been worried over Jaraleet. Now with talks of some rendezvous between the two… Well that was some that she had to investigate…

“Ahhh, yes, that would make sense. All the blasted sand in the air probably got to me.” The Argonian said before chuckling, somewhat, nervously as Raelynn brought up what he had said earlier about Meg scolding. “Ah, so you remembered that. But...yes, yes she did in fact scold me last night.” He finally said, knowing that there was a good chance that if he didn’t say something, Raelynn might go and pester Meg for answers next. Or just continue pestering him at any rate. “I went to check up on her after a meeting we had held, to plan how to rescue Sora you see, and, well, she saw the state in which my armor was and she started worrying. Said something about me not being a pincushion.” Jaraleet said, chuckling slightly again.

“Ahh yes, but there’s more to it than that, Jaraleet. That’s not what intrigued me the most.” She tilted her head to the side and bit her lower lip, resuming her seat with a dangerously roguish expression painted over her entire face and held in her body language. The Argonian was in trouble now. “You took a bullet for the girl nights ago did you not? Secret missions together? I don’t quite know what to make of it all…” She chuckled dryly from the back of her throat, before reclining into the seat. It occurred to her that she wasn’t sure if an Argonian was capable of sweating - something told her she was about to find out.

Jaraleet laughed at Raelynn’s words, but there was no hiding the nervousness in his voice. “What do you mean by all that, Meg came to me asking for help and I decided to help her. As for taking a bullet for her...aren’t comrades, friends, supposed to protect each other?” The Argonian said with a nervous chuckle. Part of him knew that his words were mere excuses, and that there was a good chance that Raelynn would be able to call them for what they were, but the other part of him felt like he still had to try. “Right?” He added after a second, rubbing the back of his head. At this point he wasn’t sure who he was trying to fool: himself or the Breton woman sitting in front of him.

She was smug now, and highly amused - rather charmed by his endearing display of nervousness under her questioning. She’d always known that Jaraleet was softer when it came to real social situations. He may be a cold beast in battle, but when it came to matters of the heart, well, it was a different story entirely. She should have felt at least a little bit bad for pushing his buttons like this - taking advantage of his vulnerability. But she couldn’t resist, and so she got out the stick once more for another poke. “Oh of course! Friends do protect each other, you’re right about that. I doubt you’d have taken a bullet for anyone on the team though? Something drove you to do it in the moment. Let me see… Megana is a sweet girl, she’s rather pretty too, wouldn’t you agree?” Internally, Raelynn was beaming with glee, but outwardly she pulled herself together to display a colder expression. “She’s… Really rather feminine beneath that Nord bravado she displays. Innocent too, isn’t she?”

“I...well…” Jaraleet began when Raelynn posed the question about if he’d have really taken a bullet from anyone else in the group. “I….would say so, yes.” He replied in a somewhat stilted manner when Raelynn asked if he agreed with her assessment of Meg being pretty. “Sithis damn you and your confusing questions woman.” The Argonian thought inwardly, feeling a headache blossoming in his skull under the barrage of questions from the Breton healer. “If you say so it must be true, I’m afraid I don’t know much about what would being ‘feminine’ entail. At least not to the same degree as you.” He answered, diverting his gaze away from Raelynn.

“Innocent? No, I wouldn’t say she is innocent….I’m not quite sure how to put it. Maybe the best way to say it is that she hasn't let the world embitter her.” The Argonian replied to Raelynn’s last question, finally turning his head too look at the Breton once again.

He was squirming. This was fun. “Ahhh, of course you do Jaraleet. You must have noticed the outline of her hips, the softness in her walk - the girlish air in her voice?” Raelynn smiled again, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger, winding it almost as tight as Jaraleet was. “There are many things that set the fairer sex apart from, well, the men. Beautifully long eyelashes that flutter just so... Full lips that pout in the heat of the moment... “ She wanted him to picture such features on Meg, and she watched him intensely, she would know when he had conjured such an image in his mind…

Damnable woman, torture would be a more pleasant fate than having to endure your onslaught of questions.” The Argonian grumbled inwardly and, yet, in spite of his inward protests it came all too easy to picture Meg the way that Raelynn described, at least for a brief second it was before he shook his head rather violently to dispel the mental image. “I’ve known torturers less wicked than you, you know that?” He said jokingly, letting out a defeated sigh before flopping down onto the seat he had been using but a few moments ago and from which he had stood up at some indeterminate point during the Breton’s barrage of question.

She laughed at his comment, knowing that her game of cat and mouse had landed in her favour. “Oh Jaraleet… You must have feelings for the girl or else you would have been able to shrug such questions off.” She poked her tongue out impishly at him, it had been a while since she’d had quite so much fun. “I suppose you’re right. It was rather wicked of me…” Her tone was not apologetic in the slightest, it was prideful if anything, and her smug grin only backed it up. She sighed with a girlish hum. “I must say though… It’s quite a surprise. I would never have imagined or guessed at you two getting close in such a way.”

“Oh, fine, I do, I do. I swear to the Hist, if I had feathers you’d have already made me tear them out in frustration.” The Argonian admitted with a defeated sigh, shaking his head slightly. He needed to keep a better grip on his emotions it seemed. He frowned slightly at what she said next, shaking his head once more. “You are a wicked woman Raelynn. Enjoy your victory.” Jaraleet said, letting out a light chuckle. “Come now, surely you’ve had enough toying with my emotions right?” He chuckled nervously at her final words. “I...I mean…” He stuttered out, clearing his throat with a light cough. “No...no...surely it must be just Raelynn messing with me again….right?” The Argonian thought inwardly, doubt immediately seeping into his mind as he recalled what had happened the previous night.

“Oh come on now, I’m allowed to take all chances at levity these days. I was kidnapped twice you know! Let me be wicked... It’s naught but jest anyway…” She couldn’t believe she played the victim card, in any other occasion, it would have been rather cheap of her, but she wasn’t entirely serious about it. She knew the Argonian would get a kick from it - if she could joke about it with anyone, it was Jaraleet. Crude humour at its finest she thought to herself, unable to subdue the smile from her face and glimmer from her eyes. “It’s nice, Jaraleet! That you’ve found someone in our group to be close with.” Her voice had finally softened of it’s interrogative and cunning edge, her posture too. “So what are you planning to do about it?”

Jaraleet laughed out loud at Raelynn’s use of the fact that she had been kidnapped twice, some of the tension leaving his body. “Oh, fine, I’ll allow it this time.” He said, shaking his head before chuckling yet again as he relaxed in the chair. “It is nice, it really he is.” He said, smiling slightly at Raelynn. “Honestly, I do not know.” The Argonian answered when Raelynn asked what he planned to do about it. “So much of my life has been dedicated to, well, fighting that I haven’t given a thought to love previously. And, well, with all that it’s going on….as I said, I do not know what to do.”

“Love huh?” She asked with a smile, a sense of warmth rushing through her at the very thought. “Well, I figure you have two options here… You can do nothing, or you can do something.” That didn’t sound too elaborate, that just sounded obvious. “I mean, you can let time pass by and do nothing about your feelings hoping that something besides yourself pulls you together - chance, or fate, so to speak. Or you can take it into your own hands my friend.” She sighed again, eyes darting upwards as she thought pensively for a few moments. “Megana strikes me as the kind of girl who would most definitely take it into her own hands eventually. But I also think that a gesture of affection from you would absolutely blindside her and sweep her completely off her feet.”

She thought about Meg, how she was feminine but also how she could be staunchly independent and rather fierce at times. There was a boyishness about her. “If I were trying to woo and impress her… I might take her a single flower… Just one. But of course that’s only what I would do…” Her fingers found her way to her hair again and she continued to twirl the strands around it, a sly grin on her lips as she winked knowingly at Jaraleet. “But I’m just a devilishly wicked woman… Whatever would I know about all of that?” Her voice once again, a honeyed playful purr as she made yet another scheming remark. How could she resist, after all?

Jaraleet rolled off his eyes at Raelynn’s last remarks before letting out a soft chuckle, smiling fondly at the Breton woman. “Couldn’t resist getting in one last coy remark, could you?” The Argonian said, shaking his head slightly. “I’ll think about it Raelynn, truly, I will. But I think that such a gesture...well, it could best wait until we are out of our current predicament here, wouldn’t you agree?” He said, falling silent as an unwelcome thought crossed his mind. “But...if things seem to look to dire for us, I’ll take action before I’m unable to.” He added quietly, frowning slightly to himself.

She nodded in agreement, he wasn’t wrong. The situation was tense and wasn’t going to let up anytime soon, but in her mind - that was all the more reason to act. There would be no forcing Jaraleet to do anything he didn’t want to, though. “You’re right, and for what it’s worth - I think she likes you a lot too.” She thought to continue dangling Jaraleet on a string by his emotions, but her conscience got the better of her and she just smiled. “I think whatever you choose to do will be right, whenever that may be. She likes you. You’ll know what to do…” Her gaze travelled to the window, and she realised that time was getting on - she still had errands to complete. “I really must get going... “ She sighed as she stood from the chair. “It’s been good to see you Jaraleet.”

She gathered up her belongings and made her way to the door, turning just one last time to speak to him. “I mean it about getting that wound closed up. You’ll have one raging infection if you don’t see to it today…” There was a sternness to her voice, but the smile that followed betrayed all severity of it entirely. “Take care, friend.” And with that, she left.

“Thank you Raelynn, and it has been good to see you too.” The Argonian said, smiling at the Breton woman as she got up from the chair. “You seem to forget that infections aren’t much of an issue for us Argonians. But don’t worry, I’ll have it seen today by someone in the hotel’s infirmary, you have my word.” He said, standing up and going up with her towards the door as she made her way out of the room. “You take care too Raelynn, you take care too.”
Thank You

Brought to you by Greenie and yours truly


12th of Midyear, Late Night, Three Crowns Hotel, Courtyard

With the meeting finally over, Meg had left almost immediately, though not for bed. True, she was exhausted, but more than physically it was mentally. Those days with Zahir in the other inn had left her stressed, even though she knew he was going to be fine. It was the future that kept pricking at her mind. What would happen once Sora was rescued? It didn’t seem plausible to her that they would be able to stay here in Gilane. If her friend had been so easily captured from right under their noses, if Raelynn had been so easily tortured with no one being the wiser, then how would the entire group be able to remain where they were? Being allied with the Poncy Man had brought more cracks to their group than safety, and it worried and saddened her. And what of Zahir? If she was to leave… who would take care of him?

She didn’t want those thoughts for tonight. They still had time- she wanted to relax her mind and let herself feel free. She knew he was safe, so she would stay here for the night. But before then…

Having snatched a bottle from her room, Meg had made her way out to the hotel’s courtyard, carefully walking down the dimly lit pathway before she finally came to the same short wall where she had sobbed like a child before her friend. Smiling a little, she sat down and stretched out her legs, pulling out the cork as she did. It seemed like so long ago- so much had happened since the night of the party… too much. She brought the bottle to her lips and took a gulp, enjoying the taste and hoping it would provide some of the numbness she wanted to feel.

“I had a feeling that I would find you here.” Said Jaraleet as he entered the courtyard, frowning slightly as he noticed the bottle on Meg’s hand. “I think you told me a while ago that if I saw you with a bottle of alcohol I should take it from your hands, no?” The Argonian spoke as he crossed the short distance that separated them. He still wore the armor with which he had set off to Al-Aqqiya, damaged as it was after Sa’ad’s onslaught, having not bothered to change in the aftermath of the meeting that the group had held.

Letting out a sigh, he sat next to Meg and turned his head to look at her. “Want to tell me what's bothering you?” He asked her softly, a note of worry in his voice.

Meg looked up, surprise written on her face. She hadn't expected anyone to notice where she was, not that she didn't feel a little happy that she had been noticed... perhaps a little giddy that it was her argonian friend. Then she saw the state of his armour and clothes, and the slight feeling of elation fell, creating a pit in her stomach.

She took another gulp from the bottle, slightly sheepish from his words but not particularly willing to comply and give up her drink. "How 'bout we share then?" she asked, giving him a small grin, though there was a hint of desperation as she spoke. "Drink's on me, eh?" She set the bottle on his lap, still holding onto it just in case he decided he wasn't thirsty.

"An’ I'll tell you what's botherin' me if you tell me why you're hurt again." It was hard to miss the tremble in her voice.

Jaraleet let out a sigh when it became clear that Meg wasn't willing to let go of her drink. “If you wish, I could use a drink.” He commented as she placed the bottle on his lap. “I probably should be asking you that question.” He replied with a slight frown when she said that she'd only tell him what was bothering her if he told her why he was hurt once more.

“The last time I saw you both of your knuckles were bloody messes and your lip was split.” He said as he gingerly freed the bottle from her grip, frowning when he noticed that her knuckles were still bruised and only scabbing just now. “Honestly, look at them. I should probably drag you to my room so I could bandage them.” He said, still holding her hand as he carefully ran his thumb over her knuckles. “But, to answer your question, I got hurt while I was on a mission with Sevari and Latro.” Jaraleet said, taking a drink from the bottle.

"That's not fair... changin’ the subject like that..." Meg's mumbles quieted however. A mission with Sevari and Latro? She blinked a little, and then she remembered the khajiit man addressing Jaraleet after he had saved him and sent them on the way. She bit her lip, suddenly upset, and the pain from her healing wound fueled it even more. He had just gotten better, and then was immediately whisked off onto another life threatening mission? How was that right? How was that...

But that was what he was, wasn't it? Like Gregor had said.

She let out a soft sigh and looked up at the argonian. "Ya really gotta be more careful," she muttered. "Yer not like, a pincushion or somethin'. If somethin' happened to you too..." Looking down at her own hand, she shook her head, voice low as she continued. "Bruised hands an' a split lip wouldn' hurt as much as what I'd be feelin' in 'ere." She used her free hand and rapped it against her heart; a slight hiss of pain escaped as her bruise made contact with her shirt.

Jaraleet felt his guts twist with guilt as Meg spoke, easily able to tell that the Nord woman was upset. “I’m sorry.” He muttered, letting go of her hand and wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “Didn’t mean to hurt you or make you upset. When Sevari came for me he was already with Latro, ready to go. There wasn’t much time to say anything to anyone.” He said softly. “But, hey, I’m here now, am I not? Bruised, yeah, but still alive.” He said softly, trying to ease her worries a little bit.

"Yeah," she agreed, smiling a little as she nodded. That was the most important thing, wasn't it? He was alive and well and right here, not like Rhea, not like J'raij...

Taking another sip from the bottle, she let out a small sigh, though this one was much more relaxed than the one before. Unknowingly she leaned closer, resting her head against the argonian. "When I foun' Zahir... there were two men. They were just wailin' on him, even though he was down an' out. Just beatin' on him 'cause he was too small t'defend himself. An'-" Her hands curled into fists, and she winced at the tightness. "-I... just lost it. It... it made me so damn mad t'see him like that. Helpless. I wanted t'kill ‘em. I didn' think of me, nothin'. I just wanted 'em to know how it must've felt for him." She paused and tilted her head, wondering what Jaraleet might be thinking. "Beat 'em good too."

“Hmmm, I see.” Jaraleet replied when Meg had finished telling her tale. Part of him wanted to be mad at her for putting herself in danger and, yet, he found that he couldn't do so. Instead, the Argonian found himself smiling at the Nord woman, chuckling softly. “Why am I not surprised in the least.” He said fondly, shaking his head slightly. “I'm sorry to hear that Zahir went through that.” He said softly, tightening his embrace slightly. He could tell that Meg cared for the orphan a great deal and he had no doubt that the beating he had gone through was something that still bothered her

"Aye, me too." Meg looked back down at the bottle in her hand, contemplating it. "He though' I was taken away by the dwemer, like his pa..." Her grip around the bottle tightened and she took a gulp before holding it out for him to partake. "Las' time I fough' like tha'? I was just a kid in Riften streets. After tha', it was always with m'sword." She grinned a little as she shook her leg, letting the sword in the scabbard by her hip jostle.

Jaraleet chuckled softly and smiled at Meg, taking the bottle from her hands and taking a swig. “Hmmm, I better watch out and make sure I don’t make you angry. Don’t think I could win against you in a fist fight.” He said, laughing slightly. He took another swig from the bottle and offered it again for Meg to take a drink.

Meg's grin turned a little mischievous as she grabbed the bottle in one hand and raised her free hand, curling it lightly and tapping at his armour, being careful not to make contact with where she was still bruised. "Only one way t'fin' out," she replied, letting out a laugh of her own.

Jaraleet cocked an eyebrow up at Meg’s words. “Is that a challenge, Miss Megana?” The Argonian asked, smirking slightly at her. “Because if it is, well, you better be careful, or I might take you up on it.”

"I would but yer already in a state," Meg quipped back with a giggle, letting her hand rest in her lap. "Wouldn' wanna hurt ya even more, y'know?"

She found herself amused, her earlier melancholic mood put to the side for fun bantering with the argonian. She looked up and smiled at him, eyes bright. "I gotta thank you. Y'always make m'feel better when I'm feelin' down." Meg set the bottle on the ground before carefully wrapping her arms around the argonian; she didn't want to hurt him any more than he was, but she was certainly going to show her affection and appreciation.

Jaraleet smiled at Meg’s words. “I’m glad to hear that I’ve been able to help you Meg.” The Argonian said softly. He was surprised when he felt Meg’s arms wrap around him, and let out a soft chuckle when he noticed that she was being deliberately careful. “You know I’m not made of glass, right?” He playfully chided her before he too wrapped his arms around her in an embrace, pulling her closer than before.

Surprised that he returned the hug, Meg was still for a split second before letting out an elated laugh and wrapping her arms tighter around the argonian. It felt nice, comfortable, something she had clearly missed for a long time, though she wouldn't be able to tell how long. When she finally pulled away she was still smiling, face a little pink.

"Yer right," she replied jokingly, "yer not made of glass."

“It would be rather inconvenient, wouldn’t it?” The Argonian joked back, letting out a soft chuckle, before he smiled at Meg, happy to see that she was feeling better from what he could tell. He closed his eyes slightly and, without thinking, pulled Meg a bit closer to him as he leaned against the wall comfortably. “I’m glad that you are back. I was worried when you told me you wouldn’t be staying here for a while.” He said softly, not fully sure why he had voiced that particular thought.

"Really?" Meg replied. She blinked at the argonian, though with his eyes closed he wouldn't have been able to see. "I... well tha's why I came back t'tell you. I thought maybe you might've been..." She couldn't help but turn a little more red, grinning once more. He would have been worried... would he have missed her as well? It was as if warm feeling was descending upon her, reminding her of just a few years ago when she would feel the same with her khajiit friend.

Feeling a little abashed, it took her a moment before replying. "Well... makes me happy t'hear tha'. I mean- I don' wan' you t'worry, but it just-" She fumbled about for her words. "Guess it just feels nice someone would be thinkin' 'bout me."

“I think we’ve had this conversation about worrying for the other before, haven’t we?” Jaraleet joked slightly, opening his eyes again and smiling softly at Meg. “But, yes, I really was worried for you.” He told her softly, giving her shoulder a light squeeze. “I understand, don’t worry.” He told her when she mentioned that it felt nice that someone would be thinking of her. He opened his mouth to speak again when, suddenly, a thought crossed his mind: could he truly say that he understood what she meant?

He was Haj-Eix, a blade wielded by the An-Xileel for the protection of Argonia. His life’s worth was proportional to his use for that purpose. “You need only concern yourself with one thing and one thing only: your mission to Argonia.” The words from the head of the facility in which he had been trained rang crystal-clear in his mind, as if he had only heard them yesterday. All of his life up until this point he had never cared for anyone, and he was sure that no one had cared for him in turn. At least not the way Meg did….or the way he now cared for her. He had been close to his fellow Haj-Eix trainees, that was for certain, but there had always been the unspoken truth that their missions could call for them to sacrifice the other at a moment’s notice for the good of the mission. Or that one might leave and never return.

The sudden realization made him feel uncomfortable, and a lump in his throat formed as he tried to organize his thoughts. “Thank you, Meg.” He said softly, pulling her a bit closer than before. Surely it was fine for someone to worry for him like Meg did, no? Surely….it couldn’t hurt for him to worry that way too, right?

A little confused at being thanked and pulled closer, Meg could only try to imagine what might be going on in his mind. He was such a closed book to her, but she found herself drawn to him anyway. She remained quiet for awhile as she rested against the argonian, allowing herself to enjoy the closeness for as long as it lasted, a lingering smile on her face.

"Dunno what you're sayin' thanks for, silly," she finally murmured. "I'm the one who should be sayin' it."

Jaraleet smiled softly at Meg’s words, allowing himself to enjoy the moment for one more moment before he spoke again. “What for?” He asked her softly. He had an idea of what she’d say...but part of him wanted to hear her say it. Maybe it was selfish on his part, and he couldn’t fully understand why he wanted to hear Meg say it….but surely there would be no harm in allowing himself such a small act of selfishness, no?

He shook his head slightly to clear his mind free of his errant thoughts. “I do mean it Meg, thank you.” He added softly before she could answer.

A chuckle left Meg. "Well then, yer welcome, even if I dunno why." She hesitated for the slightest moment before reaching over and taking his hand. "What for? Jaraleet, yer words in Anvil're one of the reason's I'm still here. I was... lost there, I didn' know what t'do, where t’go. I felt... lonely, but you came along an y'were a friend. Even here, in Gilane... you've had m'back-" She paused, her lips trembling slightly. "Y'took a bullet for me. I- I would've been dead if it weren' for you. Even now... y'didn' have t'come but... y'did." Her eyes were a little glazed as she looked him in the eyes. "All that, an' more... that's why I'm thankin' you."

Her eyes shifted and she looked down at her lap, feeling embarrassed. There was more, but it was hard to say. This much was enough for now.

Jaraleet was silent for a second as he processed what Meg had just told him. He was truly selfish, wasn’t he? Someone like him who had bloodied his hands with murder and torture without batting an eye didn’t deserve for someone like Meg to think so highly of him. To care for him so deeply. He swallowed hard, feeling the lump in his throat forming again and his guts twisting with guilt.

He suddenly pulled her into an embrace once more, so that she wouldn’t see the moisture that had suddenly formed in his eyes. “I’d do it again.” He said, his voice barely rising above a choked up whisper. “For you, I’d do it again.” He repeated himself, breathing deeply and closing his eyes. “I...I...thank you Meg...I don’t deserve such words….but thank you.” Jaraleet said, briefly tightening his embrace before he eased his hold on Meg.

Why did he say such things? Why wouldn't he deserve such words? Thoughts were whirling in Meg's mind as she was embraced, and even as he eased his hold, she remained as she was.

She suddenly remembered Gregor's words from the party.

“Don't be too hard on Jaraleet. He is a good man who means well. His methods are a product of his past. The war between the Argonians and the Dunmer is famously cruel, Megana. The unfortunate reality is that we find ourselves fighting a similar war now against the Dwemer, a race who did not hesitate to butcher defenseless citizens in the Imperial City. If Jaraleet kept things from you, he did that because he wants to preserve your innocence. It is a beautiful thing that should be nourished because once lost, it can never be regained. You have a sweet heart and I admire that.”

Was this why Jaraleet felt he didn't deserve the thanks she was giving him? The affection she felt for him?

"No," she replied. "Don'- don' say that. I dunno yer past, but-" She hesitated, unsure of how to say what was in her heart. "-but tha' doesn' mean it takes away from what yer doin' now, for the group, for me. Whoever you were, whatever y'did- it's... you- yer not that person. Not t'me."

He didn’t deserve her, didn’t deserve her words….and yet part of him wanted to hold onto them. To forget all that he was, all that he had done, all the blood and corpses of his past, and be the person that Meg believed him to be. He truly was selfish, wasn’t he? That desire was proof enough. “You can’t know how much that means to me.” He finally said, his voice yet again a choked up whisper. He let his head rest against her shoulder and let himself take solace in her presence. Surely he could afford himself this, no? After all his services to the An-Xileel? “Thank you.”

"You're welcome." Meg didn't need to know the ghosts of his past to feel what he felt right now. She tightened her arms around him once more, closing her own eyes as she rested her head against him. He needed this even more than she did, and she was more than willing to deliver for him. She knew she couldn't take away the pain of his past, but she would lend him her gratitude and affection, and she would easily accept his in kind, gratefully and willingly.

Jaraleet returned Meg’s embrace as he felt her arms tightening around him once more and as she let her head rest against him. The Argonian let the silence stretch on for a few more moments, allowing himself to simply be and take solace in the moment. Eventually, after taking a shaky breath, he pulled slightly away from Meg, albeit he didn’t fully break off the embrace. “I’m sorry, I came here to check up on you and yet you were the one who helped me out.” He said softly, smiling slightly at Meg after he shook his head. There was more that he wanted to say, to express, but he didn’t have the words to properly convey what he felt.

“Thank you Meg, your words mean a lot to me.” He said softly, pausing hesitantly as he thought about what to say next. “And you. You mean a lot to me too.” He finally said, taking her hands in his and giving them a light squeeze. There was more that he wanted to say but he didn’t trust himself at the moment. That’d have to do for the moment.

Meg couldn't help but beam up at the argonian, and though there was a slight wincing of pain when he held her hands, she refused to move them away. "You do too," she returned. The feeling of warmth from before had returned, engulfing her completely, marred only by the stinging of her hands.

"Say," she finally continued, a sheepish grin on her face. "Remember when ya said somethin' ‘bout bandages...?"

“Sorry, sorry, I got carried away in the moment and forgot.” Jaraleet said, chuckling softly before smiling at Meg. “Come, let’s go to my room, I think I can find some bandages there or, if worst comes to worst, I can easily make some, or well something close enough.”

"It's fine," Meg replied with a laugh. "My fault, remember? Brynja would have my hide..." She scratched at her head before standing up, stretching out her arms towards the sky. "Ahh... that's nice." Leaning down, she picked up the still mostly full bottle before nodding at Jaraleet. "Lead the way!"

Jaraleet smiled at Meg, glad to see that she was back to her usual sunny disposition. Standing up quickly, he nodded when she told him to lead the way. After leaving the courtyard it only took a few moments for them to find themselves in front of the door that led into Jaraleet’s room. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll go and look to see if there are any bandages.” He said as he opened the door and beckoned Meg to enter.

Nodding, Meg made her way in and headed over to one of the beds and sat down. Even as she took a sip from the bottle, she remembered the last time she had come in here, ready to go out and bring Daro’Vasora back home. Things hadn’t gone the way she’d hope, not at all. Setting the bottle next to her even as she clutched it, she let out a sigh, her mind wandering. She wanted her back, she wanted them all back.

No sad thoughts tonight, she reminded herself. Bringing the bottle to her lips once more, she took a larger gulp.

“Hmmm, it'd probably be a good idea to let go of the bottle before I bandage up your knuckles.” Jaraleet said as he made his way to the bed where Meg was sitting, a roll of bandages in one hand. “Unless you want me to bandage the bottle to one of your hands?” He joked as he took a seat next to her and gently grabbed her free hand. “Might sting a little at first.” He warned her as he began to bandage her knuckles.

Meg screwed her face into a sulk, letting out a small huff. "A'right, a'right," she muttered, though she didn't actually set the bottle down until she took another large gulp. "There-" She hissed a little at the stinging but kept herself from moving, not wanting Jaraleet's efforts to be in vain. "Hrmm... I pro'ly shudda asked ya t'do this the other day..." She shrugged and kicked a little at the ground; despite the stinging, she was enjoying the attention.

“It would have been for the best, yeah.” He said as he finished bandaging her first hand. “Probably should change it in a couple of days….but I'm no expert. So it'd probably be for the best if you consulted whoever is in charge of the infirmary here.” He said as he gingerly grabbed the other hand and began the same process that he had done on the first one.

Pursing her lips further, Meg let out another 'hmmm' as she listened to the argonian's words. "I guess," she agreed, head tilting as she watched the hand bandaging procedure. A smirk came over her as she sneakily reached for the bottle yet again. "Maybe Brynja... or maybe someone else." Even her fuzzy mind knew she would get in trouble if the Nord found out she wasn't taking care of her injuries.

“Do I need to chain your hands to the bed so you won’t be clutching the Sithis-damned bottle all the time?” Jaraleet said, shaking his head slightly, before chuckling fondly. “At the very least don’t hog it all to yourself, will you?”

"Ah!" She had asked him to share- he had a point, she was drinking it all while he was doing all the hard work. Resisting the urge to drink more, she held it out for him to take. "Here, here, drink up!" Handing the bottle over, she let out a huge yawn before leaning back, enjoying the soft bed cover.

"Y'know," she said after a moment, "the night's are so, so hot here compared t’home. Never even used the sheets. In Skyrim, y'couldn't sleep unless y'were covered up an' warm. At least, I couldn'." Her green eyes rested on Jaraleet. "Y'ever been there?" She paused a second before continuing. “How’s it where yer from?”

Jaraleet shook his head when Meg asked him if he had ever been to Skyrim. “No, I’ve never been there.” He said, chuckling softly when she asked how it was the climate of Argonia. “Hot and humid. Didn’t have much need of blankets or any warm clothes in general. Sure, rains could be a bit of a bother from time to time. But, well, it’s not like in Skyrim I’d wager.” Jaraleet continued, chuckling softly. “The heat here didn’t bother me so much, it’s more the lack of humidity in the air that gets to me. At least Gilane is a port town, so it isn’t so bad. But, well, it isn’t pleasant still. It’s good that we haven’t had reason to venture into the desert proper. I don’t think I could stand it there.”

"Hrmmm..." Meg flopped back on the bed and stared up at the oh so fascinating ceiling, waving a hand in the air before letting her arm fall back down next to her. "I'd die, I'd so die in the desert," she commented, giggling a little and shaking her head. "Dry, dry Meg, like cured meat. I'd prob die in marshes too... I'm used t'cold... even Anvil was hot for me."

Her giggles stopped after a moment, a thought from before returning to her. "Hey, Jaraleet... when we go an' try t'free Sora, we're pro'ly not be able t'stay here anymore... right...?" She propped herself up on her elbows so that she could see him.

“Probably, yeah.” He replied to her question, letting out a sigh. “It’d probably be for the best if we left Hammerfell altogether, truth be told.” He continued on, lowering his voice so that only Meg could hear him. “Even if we succeed in freeing Sora, we’ll raise too much noise. Draw too much attention to ourselves. It wouldn’t surprise me if, after that mission, the Poncy Man would consider us more like a liability rather than assets worth protecting.” He said, letting out a sigh. “You’re thinking about Zahir, aren’t you?” He asked her softly. Why else would she ask him if they had to leave after trying to rescue Sora?

Meg nodded, looking a little somber as she let herself lay back once again, the heels of her boots rhythmically hitting against the floor as she attempted to relay her thoughts. "I know I can' take him. This is his home- he ain' no one t'me really... I'm just..." Her voice trailed a little. "Worried... I know I'mma miss him some, an' he's gonna miss me..." She closed her eyes and let out a breath. "I s'pose I'll just havta see then, eh..." She took in a deep breath, feeling drowsiness slowly creeping in on her.

"You'll be with us... right?" Eyes still closed, she reached out her hand.

“I’ll be, don’t worry.” He replied, taking her hand in this. “Don’t try to lie to me Meg. Zahir isn’t no one to you, otherwise I doubt you’d have assaulted two men on your lonesome for ‘no one’ or am I wrong?” He asked her softly, a note of worry in his voice yet again. “If you need to...cry or...I don’t know, whatever you need to do….I am here for you Meg.” He said softly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

A smile spread on Meg's face. Of course her stupid words were false, and of course he knew that just as well as her. "Yer a good one, Jaraleet," she mumbled, turning to her side and curling up as much as possible. Her hand was still in his and she was more than happy with that. "I... I know. Thank you." Even in her tipsy, sleepy state, she felt she was being a burden. "Sorry for jus' takin' over this bed."

“Don’t worry about it Meg. Sleep well.” Jaraleet said softly, making no effort to pull his hand away. He waited for her to fall asleep and then made himself as comfortable as he could, too exhausted to put in the effort to move away or even take the time to change out of his damaged armor.

It was likely the morning would bring regret over terrible sleeping postures. For the moment, however, there was peace and comfort.

Scales of Shadow

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


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.
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.
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.
"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
”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.
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