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Dear Mr Curly,
I have done little travelling lately because I have been so dreadfully weary. Can it be true as the old Ecclesiastes said; that all things lead to weariness? Surely not. Perhaps the opposite is true: that all nothings lead to weariness. I have a peculiar feeling, Curly, that I am worn out from something I haven't yet done and the more I don't do it, the more exhausted I become. How strange. Could it be something I haven't realised? Perhaps it's something I haven't said? Something I haven't finished! It must be very large and true whatever it is and a lively struggle in the doing but I look forward to it immensely. I know I need it. First, however, I must curl up in my chair and sleep deeply with the duck. Perhaps I'll dream of this thing and wake up refreshed and do it. My fond wishes to you Mr. Curly, and to all Curly Flat.
Yours sleepily,
Vasco Pyjama
xxx
P.S. Not having breakfast can make you weary. That's for sure!
Michael Leunig. The Curly Pyjama Letters.

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@Cyclone Most of the PC rovaick action is below Shalanoir. If Rtron says it's cool, I can't think of any reason you couldn't do as you please.
While Orphius simply nodded at Meesei's offer, her question made him look up at her for a moment.

Off to the side, Marod had a hand on his hip and exhaled. He was hanging his head and smiling, trying to stifle a laugh.

"Have you heard the stories about you, champion?" Orphius asked. "I heard that you slew an entire army of mercenaries. That you can bring down castles with lightning magic. And...I've heard that you take traitors and you tear them limb from limb." Orphius' words went to a frantic pace, gesturing to himself and shuddering his head. "I thought you would kill me on the spot for talking to these people." He pointed to Lunise and Marod. "But you sound reasonable. You sound kind. I don't know. I just want my family to be alright and I don't want to die. I apologise if I heard wrong about you. I...do not want to be on your bad side any more than...I do theirs." He nodded his head towards Lunise and Marod again before looking down into his lap.



The laboratory wasn't too far behind them and already Fendros was feeling better. He smiled at Ahnasha's question. "To be honest, I do not think they believed you the first time. Well...Monderyn and Llarasa might have. Mother wouldn't have. She is old and clever, she puts on an act and then speaks behind backs." Fendros sighed. "There is no real purpose to worrying about that. She would have disowned me as well if she felt strongly about it."

Fendros quirked an eyebrow. "I worry more about the secret of our little hunting shop in Bruma."
...I delivered upon the Ommok post, so Mutton's exotic cravings can be... satisfied.




As for rovaick, I believe Rtron has mentioned that rovaick are all through the Ironhearts. However, there are no major settlements north of about Xerxes, so the population probably tapers off around the Venomweald.
Orphius had a few false starts in responding. He breathed in from his cringe one more time with some semblance of words. "I thank you for your offer, champion. But...we already have a home in Cyrodiil. It's out of the way. We enjoy a peaceful life there. We may try to find a clan when the children start to transform. Not before."



Fendros put an arm around Ahnasha and began to lead her to the door. He was glad to get out of the laboratory, even if he was eventually getting used to the smell.

"Absolutely. Let's take our minds off it until we can know," Fendros said. "In the meantime, you've earned a break. Come, before I have to carry you." He grinned.

On the way back, Fendros took on a more serious tone. He spoke while looking ahead. "Ahna, I know it goes without saying, but...all this for being alive with me. It has been such a sacrifice in itself. I did not ever think anyone would do something like that. I'm glad it was you."
"As would many, Meesei," Lunise commented. "Many varied people." She sniffed and looked to the door. Footsteps could be heard outside.

Sure enough, the door clunked and swung open to reveal two silhouettes on the white of the snow covering outside. Marod and Orphius stepped through the door, with Marod gesturing to the table. Orphius reluctantly walked up and sat down on the chair opposite Meesei while Marod stayed by the door. He closed it before the drafts could dominate the room.

Lunise stepped around to stand beside Marod, leaving lycan pair in the dim light. Orphius spoke just as reluctantly as he walked. "You...wanted to speak with me, champion?" He could barely look at her eyes for more than a second at a time.



Fendros tilted his head. "That certainly sounds like it would be pleasant," Fendros said. "I know I won't be young forever."

After another few seconds, Fendros offered a hand. "You have put in a lot of effort. How would you feel about sharing a drink with me?" He smiled. It was still morning, though there was not much point to timing if Ahnasha wasn't doing to go about her regular day in the first place. Besides, he wanted to celebrate a milestone.
Balancing fresh world building and character development in interwoven exposition while trying to forward a plot is far harder than I would like for this arc. I hope this post is alright. Any longer and I think peoples' eyes would have glazed over.

Edit: I should probably mention that Conata is next on the schedule for a post. You know, now that she's a waifu or something.

Yorum 2: Loralom


The streets between buildings were mud here. The main roads were laid with crunching yellow gravel. Between the two, where they walked, was tracked with brown dirt, footprints, and then a beggar in a rough blanket.

Edda drew her eyes up from the infirm hain's begging bowl and to the buildings. They had already passed the simple stone and mud houses of the common folk and were now flanked by circular granite columns, fronting granite manors of well-off Loralom hain. Edda hoped in vain that her group -- led by the guards that met them on the beach -- would be the only stain of suffering on this community that they had found. She was wrong.

Here, in front of the homes of the well and wealthy, men with handfuls of weapons and shields were running past them in groups. Other, taller hain men in padded quilt clothing, embraced their children and partners quickly before taking up arms and jogging ahead of Edda's group. The nobles were the soldiers.

Edda knew that they were preparing to fight, though the families were not in such a state as the peaceful sending their sons off to war. They were blank-faced, tense, hands clasped. The children reflected their parents. They listlessly wandered back into their homes. Not before giving Edda lingering stares.

"Edda?"

"Yes Feri?" The hain mother in their group spoke behind Edda with her eggs clutched to her chest. Edda knew her by voice.

"Why do they look so lost? Why are they not weeping at their partners' marching?"

Edda speculated. "The guard said that this land is littered with cracked shells. These people have likely seen many more than they can weep about."

"But the poorer folk further back, they were the same and they were just the farmers, potters, and other tradesmen. They aren't fighting."

Edda didn't have an answer to that. They could have merely expended all their fighting men. Or there could be another reason for their odd behaviour.

What disturbed Edda was that this little town was looking more and more like Xerxes by the day. Not the hopeful, flourishing Xerxes. Not the strong and diverse metropolis. It was in the eyes of its inhabitants. They had seen more than their share of suffering.

Ahead was a wall, mortared smooth and too high to climb, even for the trolls. They were walking to a tall set of double-doors that were creaking apart at their approach. Beyond was the largest manor of all. A multi-storied palace with a colonnaded facade, low-pitched tiled roofs, and balconies on each wing.

Even with the impression it made, this great house did not hold a candle up to the palace at Xerxes when it was in its full glory. Nevertheless, the guard pointed ahead with his mace and spoke his phlegmatic language with pride. Edda recognised a word from when the man had previously mentioned his king.

The guard seemed to ignore the warriors gathering here. They all had eyes lingering on Edda's form. Edda looked back. She realised that she was being watched all this time. Every single face she saw had the same expression. The same silent look. She felt like a wraith; she shouldn't exist.

Any conversation was drowned by her presence. They clacked their feet onto the flat stones of the porch. The wind eddied in behind them to brush at the dead silence. A distant, deep barking sounded from over the walls from a dog. The fluttering drone of a tiny bird buzzed over their heads. The warriors' feet shifted on the courtyard to keep watching Edda ahead of her group. They watched her step up and into the main hall. At least there was speech echoing out from where they were headed.

"Ki ghet achet zenna khey?" One figure in the centre of the dim hall was speaking to his uniformed advisor as servants dressed him in regal, dyed padding. He was clearly in charge, but he was young. Perhaps five years younger than Edda, she guessed. "Ie kiln di czheriaz aot di roet. Du zat nisht loze forirum liz zey zenna karekt!"

The advisor remained neutral, far calmer than the leader. "Yem, zar merik. Carm zos nyorga-s."

"Yem, Iyem. Shen zer-" The leader stopped. His head twitched in their direction. The same silence as the courtyard permeated in the hall. He stared and Edda stared back. Edda felt like a wraith again.

The servants were lucky to already be done dressing the leader in an ornate headdress and flowing blue cape, else they would have been just as transfixed as were in that moment.

The leader's voice spoke low to nudge the stillness, not break it. "Wor lom stiz?"

After a kneel, the warrior escort of the group said some words back. The leader did not shift his gaze. He took a step towards Edda, cautious, and another. He reached out one hand until he placed a finger on the end of Edda's beak. She knew from her reflection that one of the Tounic symbols was what he was running his finger over.

Apart from a blink, Edda's reaction was still and unsure. She could understand why she would get such looks. It didn't mean there was anything she could do about it.

A crash of wood turned all their heads to a side door. One hain warrior stumbled in and shouted more foreign words in alarm.

The leader stepped back and raised one index finger to Edda. He said more words, took up a fine bronze mace, and strode briskly around the group to the doors.

They were left inside with the advisor, looking at them with more purpose than any they had seen in this town.



"You wish to view the battle, Edda?" Tokgos related, by way of a local hain chipper named Renan, by way of the king's advisor Korom. Without Caress in the city, they could only translate via an old trade language. "He says that there is a platform that looks over the walls. King Akol's wife stands there to watch every time there is a fight near the walls."

Edda had eaten her bread and cheese so quickly that she felt nauseous. It didn't stop her resolve. "I am sure. Please ask Korom to lead me there."

Three languages of translation later and Korom faced Edda directly. He nodded and beckoned with a hand facing sideways.

"We will stay here, Edda," Tokgos said for himself. "I cannot fit up those stairs."

The others in Edda's group were concerned to see her leave. They had been spoken to as well but no amount of encouragement would placate them from Edda, their stable leader, leaving their sight. Regardless, Edda gave them all one last look before leaving. She had to see the situation for herself.

'Platform' was a word almost lost in translation. In reality, Edda was lead to one of the palace balconies. The only other figure was a hain woman up against the balustrade, looking out at the cleared fields beyond the town. She turned her head suddenly, startled. Korom's presence made her relax her elbows and eyes.

Much to Edda's surprise, the woman did not give her a long look like the others. She merely turned back to watching the field without a word. Her eyes narrowed with the sadness that Edda had expected of the families she had seen on the way up to the gates.

"You must be the king's wife," Edda said, stepping up to the balustrade and looking out. "Is he leading the battle today? He must be very brave."

The wife gave Edda a fleeting, oblivious look. Edda sighed that the interpreters weren't here.

"Tiss," the wife pointed out a brown-grey plume rising from the distance. Edda could just make out groups of hain, marching in formation, behind large oval shields. They both stood quietly to hear the clomping of the enemy approaching.

A long horn sounded.

From the town, faster footsteps echoed out as hundreds of hain spilt out onto the field to face the enemy. They fell into formation themselves, armed with maces, shields, and poles with lazily floating red flags. The second rank soldiers of every block were also armed with spears, poking out from the top of the rows of flitting white hain beaks.

The enemies neared. They were made up of similar formations, save for being joined by some hain with bows at their rear lines. Edda did not have to be a seasoned commander to see the problem: The defenders were vastly outnumbered.

The hain near the town were only one block of soldiers thick. She could not make out the raw numbers, though Edda could count half again as many warriors approaching as the defenders had. Matters were made worse when the attackers were joined behind by a tedar holding four leashes. The beasts that he held were each the size of four hain put together, snarling, muscular, and sporting large heads covered in tusks.

Edda clutched her red-marked fingers around the balustrade.

Any regular hain would have run in a blink. They could defend from the streets more easily, even a few wicker and thatch roofs would be set ablaze. They stood their ground until it was too late to form up with the buildings as bottlenecks. Their actions were instead contradictory to all reason; they began to bark.

Hain did not normally bark like dogs. The sound that came from their beaks was an imitation of hounds baying at passers-by. They still did not flinch from the oncoming force.

The enemy raised their weapons in an amused shout, beating their shields and readying their charge.

The defenders remained barking.

It was when the enemy broke into a run, loosening their formations, that the defenders' barking became loud and deep. Each bark was a thump against Edda's chest, even from where she stood, and there was a cacophony of them. It could not have been the hain.

The enemy was closing in. Those at the front were not discouraged by the baying.

The running increased.

Spears lowered.

Rocks on ropes were spun and launched, cutting down some in the enemy front line.

Wheels trundled?

Edda swept her gaze to speeding shapes on either flank. More beasts had sprung out from the tall grass at the edges of the defending lines. They were running at such a gallop that their shapes could hardly be discerned beyond their shaggy grey hair, flopping ears, and the chariots being pulled from behind them. They were the ones barking. Gigantic hounds, larger still than the beasts the enemy tedar kept.

There were two riders in each chariot. One was holding the reins of the giant hound and the other was swinging a set of stones lashed by cords. When they were thrown, they spun wildly until they whipped around the feet of the charging enemy hain, throwing them onto the ground. Others were thrown at the enemy flanks for just long enough for the hounds to close in and tear the life from them with its gleaming teeth, bounding away as quickly.

Retributive arrows were not numerous enough to cut the dogs down, and so the charge had been momentarily blunted. The enemy was in disarray. The defenders charged in.

Between the raining sling stones, the bolas entangling their legs, and the hounds threatening their sides, the enemy found themselves the victim of many easy kills by the defenders. The battle was joined with more hope than before.

Though they were still outnumbered.

Upon an order, the tedar released his snarling boars. They galloped forth as one, knocking aside friend and foe alike in their charge. Hain maces proved useless against their tough hide. Spears only enraged them. Red quickly covered their many tusks as all the defenders could do was try to contain them.

One hound was gored immediately to death, stopping a chariot. Two more hounds had to close in to throw down the beast and kill it.

That left three more. Two were disrupting the enemy lines, one more was chasing chariots. Some chariots spared their allies by leading one of the bloodied creatures away. One more chariot with a hain in a blue cape swung around behind friendly lines. He had an exception to the other chariots' maces and bolas.

The king hefted a long spear over one shoulder. It was tipped with a yellow glint of bronze.

Just as one boar had torn its way through the defending lines, it was met by the hain king's aim. The hound chariot ran past and the king threw the spearhead down behind the giant boar's neck, just as quickly pulling it out. The chariot went on, while the boar staggered to one side, eventually falling and spasming. More hain with spears charged it and slew it outright.

The king's now bloody lance was still poised. There was another boar to slay. This one was already wreaking havoc amongst the slingers. Hain held their arms spread, springing left and right to try and avoid the swinging tusks twisting around between them. Few hain were fast enough, being smashed away or outright impaled through their shells by the beast's strength.

The king closed in, raised his lance, and brought it down. This boar twisted its head to parry the lance and ran its head into the side of the chariot with the backswing. The chariot pitched suddenly, throwing the driver and the king both.

Edda heard the king's wife take in a sharp gasp. Her elbows bent until she held her hands tightly together and her eyes were nearly popping out.

The king and his driver landed with a slide on the dirt. The king threw away one snapped half of his lance and stood up, coughing.

The boar squealed and charged. The king would have been gored had his giant hound not slammed its head and paws into the side of the boar. It gave time for the king to leap to the side and search for the bronze of his lance. He picked it up and faced the creature. The boar twisted around and raked the hound with the tusks on the side of its head. It charged the king, the king charged back, on foot this time, with half a lance in both hands. Edda could hear the young leader's battle cry scream out in defiance of the death hurtling towards it.

They collided. The spearhead drove directly into the roof of the boar's mouth. The king thrust it so deep that half his arms were between the creature's teeth as his feet scraped backwards to a stop from the boar's momentum. He let go of the lance and stumbled back as the boar paced frantically backwards with its mouth agape. Blood poured down in streams from its lips until it sat on its haunches, panicked. Three more hain spearmen stuck it in its underbelly and it was left to bleed out.

Edda was sure that the king would retreat to find a new mount, but he didn't so much as stop to catch his breath. He drew a bronze mace from a loop on his belt and pointed to a nearby formation, pacing towards it and shouting orders. He was still commanding.

Upon the king's orders, the defending lines reformed and began to curl. In spite of overwhelming numbers against them, the defenders' shield wall had not broken. Their formation was not as disrupted as the enemy's by the time they met, leaving them stalwart. Now the lines were thinning and changing. Edda could tell from the positions of the red banners that the enemy was being surrounded.

Sling stones were breaking shells from almost every direction. Hound chariots punished any who broke from their allies. The defenders were advancing over more enemy bodies than allies.

When the tedar ran, he did so with only one of his pets remaining. The enemy hain began to break soon after, exhausted from pounding against an impenetrable wall of shields.

Edda was in disbelief at what she had just seen. She had witnessed the beginning of the battle thinking she would have to run back to her friends and try to escape. The king and his army evidently had a plan from the start.

There was a sob from beside Edda. The king's wife had her beak angled upwards in happiness, but every other feature she displayed was sad fear.

"They won," Edda declared. She turned up a palm and placed her other on the wife's shoulder, trying to comfort her, even if she was a stranger that couldn't understand her words. "Your husband must have an eye for battle. I..." Edda halted herself in a new thought.

Her search may not have needed to be as long as she thought.

The wife brought a hand to the side of her head and closed her eyes. Tears beaded down the side of her head. She said some more foreign words and brushed Edda's hand away, turning to walk back into the palace.



"Edda, are we going to be kept here forever?" Sakurt asked. The hain man was the fisherman that had essentially saved lives during the journey over the ocean. He addressed Edda with respect. "We do not want to be prisoners here."

Sakurt gestured to the room around the group while he spoke. They had all been locked away when the battle was over, with little in the way of reasons. Edda could only shrug from her chair and offer a guess.

"We will have to see. They probably don't know what to make of us. We're foreigners, after all." Edda offered.

"I think it is more to do with you, Edda." Sakurt extended a hand downwards to gesture at Edda's markings. "You saw how they looked at you. It was as if you were mother Nissel herself and they had only known pain until now."

Edda sighed and looked away. "Mother Nissel is a myth. My mission involves finding a chosen hain to build a better place here. That's real. I'm not the one who is meant to lead everyone."

Sakurt upturned his hand. "No one said that, Edda. Perhaps you might get some help from them, that's all. We just want to make new lives here, though we can only do so much to help you..."

The conversation was interrupted by the large door unlocking and drawing everyone's eyes. Korom the advisor stepped through in his finery. Two servants followed him inside with some neatly folded linen robes, followed by the Renan, the chipper interpreter.

"Edda," Korom said, before giving some level words in Loralom's foreign language.

The translations were ferried over to Tokgos, who was more frank than Korum's tone implied. "You've been invited to dinner, Edda."

Lunise gave an unsure pause to Meesei's query. She did not betray more than her regular outward suspicion towards her. When Lunise did eventually speak, she did so flatly and to the point. "My mother was Psijic mage. I learned from her before the island disappeared. Then I decided that her life was not mine, and I have been working for the Dominion ever since."

She took a slow breath in through her nose and continued as if it was a chore to answer. "Every magical act leaves a mark, champion. The only special idea that the Psijics had was to clean up after themselves before anyone thought to look. Master mages can perform some of the greatest magic known to Tamriel, but they are not always on the lookout for assassins. That is why I knew what to look for."

With that, Lunise raised an eyebrow, lowering the volume of her voice to curiosity. "How exactly did you get your scaly hands on Psijic magic, anyway? Not even my mother would teach me how to do what you did before I would join the order."



It took a moment for Fendros to confirm that Ahnasha was done with the ritual. He gave her a few moments before carefully standing from his chair, walking to Ahnasha, and kneeling beside her. "You said that it would take a few days to find out if it worked, right?" He placed a hand on her shoulder. "It didn't look like you made any mistakes. I'm sure it'll work out."

With an encouraging smile, Fendros brought his hand up to brush down the disorderly fur on the top of Ahnasha's head and the back of her neck. "What do you feel like doing now?"
Marod lifted his lower lip and looked to the ceiling in thought.

Lunise spoke for him. "That is all for the moment. Our main concern was the possible instability when integrating the clans. If you believe it will not be a problem, we shall take your word and ask again nearer to the end of your war."

"There is one last thing," Marod said. He placed his fingers on the edge of the table and stood up from his chair. "I'll call in Orphius. You mentioned that you wanted to speak with him."

Without any rush, Marod began towards the door and exited, leaving Meesei alone with Lunise for a moment. Lunise did not say anything, though she kept her arms crossed. By the way she remained, it was unlikely that Meesei's chat with Orphius would be private. Even Marod would probably sit in.



With the ease on the atmosphere brought on by the conversation, Fendros was content to sit quietly with one knee raised while Ahnasha proceeded. Still, he couldn't help but internally hold some tension over the last few moments. Ahnasha was so close now. Fendros had his eyes fixed on the last two gems. He didn't dare speak, let alone move.
"Again, Meesei, the trouble is twofold: Secrecy and transparency." Marod raised a finger for each point. "As soon as it is revealed that a particular Daedric ingredient is getting more interest for no apparent reason, that is a signal to our enemies that it could be for something untoward. Especially when both our governments are doing it. As for transparency, we simply wish to make sure that the substances made from this ingredient are not narcotic or otherwise illegal in nature."

Lunise interrupted. "Perhaps we could defer this to another time. There are some avenues to pursue that are possible, but not that we can confirm presently. Meesei, do not expect miracles, expect attempts. We are busy people and can only do so much for you without compromising you."



Fendros breathed in to talk about children, though he was cut off by Ahnasha changing the subject. The shadow of her words almost caused him to not pay attention to what came next. He decided to bring up the issue while Ahnasha was not so preoccupied. Instead, he allowed himself an amused smile.

"That would be a unique collection indeed," Fendros remarked. "Not everyone has trophies that move. It would make them easier to transport, too. Easier than carrying them." Fendros dipped his head to one side briefly. "Might distress some onlookers."

Fendros turned more sincere again, letting his smile become more wistful. "I would love nothing better than to see Tamriel. Too many of my family have been insular and wouldn't go beyond their country. I've seen so much already, it makes me want more." He turned his eyes up to reveal a wry smile. "And someone will have to be around you to keep you competitive. Can't have you thinking that you can be the best hunter around while I still live."
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