Erna Rahnis

"What the hell is going on now?" Erna muttered as the caravan suddenly ground to a halt. He didn't want delays. Delays made problems, and when Erna had a problem he was upset.

And it was never good to be around Erna when he was upset.

He wandered idly over to another member of the caravan, his guar following him obediently. Erna had already shown it the penalty for disobedience.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Bunch of Kagouti in the way apparently," the dunmer replied. "Armigers'll probably deal with the damn things."

"I should hope so," Erna said, before sauntering off again to see what Rianne was doing. He liked her.

Rothan

The caravan slowed and ground to a halt. Rothan was too far back to see what the problem was but he assumed they'd be making camp. Predictably the caravan had made less than fantastic time and the dwemer bridge would make good shelter for those without tents. The weather was still good enough though so he wouldn't have to force himself on anyone yet. The Armigers wouldn't like having an extra body but he doubted they'd refuse a priest.

"Looks like we're stopping to camp," he said to Eno, "I wander why they've stopped us for so long. I need to find somewhere to give prayers to any who want them."

And there's that pilgrim, I must see how he's fairing with that guar...

Rianne

Rianne smiled and accepted the hackle-lo from Dralas.

"There's something going on" she said calmly "I can smell the odour of animals...probably Kagoutis"

While smoking her hackle -lo she prepared her bow. The arrow was long and smooth...Rianne stroke it gently...


She didn't really want to use it, she didn't want the others to know just how good she was with her bow, well except from Dralas of course, he was special, he was one of her own.

"Shall we try to get some information?"


"Morrie! you stay put lassie right?" Rianne whispered in the guar's ear

She took Dralas' hand and advanced forward...

Dralas

Dralas wasn't sure if the bow was necessary and he was wary of leaving their things behind, but he shrugged and went with Rianne to investigate the problem. They pushed forward through the crowd and arrived in time to listen as the leaders discussed their course of action. There was a small herd of kagouti ahead, and they had apparently decided to kill them. He smiled to himself. A hunting party would not have even spoken; positions would have been taken and arrows fired with no communication beyond a hand signal or two. He had to give the Armigers credit though; the archers made short work of the creatures.

"Kagouti, just like you said. Now we figure out if we're going to set up camp or not."

He hoped that the leaders of the caravan would decide to stop for the evening, since many people at the back hadn't waited for permission anyway. It would give him a chance to wander around and ask questions about his ancestors.

I don't know even how to ask about the bones without seeming suspicious, much less who to speak to.

Rianne

"Ok, that was it then" she sighed as she saw the result of the so called hunting-party.

Pity...those kagouti wouldn't have harmed us, I could have talked them out of it


"what's the matter, Dralas?, You look weary..."

Rianne looked sternly at the young man..there was something bothering him, and she couldn't figure out what it was, and she so wanted to help him.

Her sixth sense told her something was the matter...

Eno Arval

"Really? Now I won't say I can't use a break, but still...couldn't we have travelled just a bit longer? This place looks awfully exposed to me." Eno replied to Rothan. He then shrugged as he leaned on his Guar's back. Having only one healthy leg had made it difficult to keep up with the caravan's pace, but his pride demanded of him that he would. He refused to be the cause of any slowdown.
"But then again, that bridge is the closest thing to anything even resembling cover ever since we entered the foyada. I didn't know there was a Dwemer construct here." He continued on, more to himself than to the priest.
"What do you think? Could there be ruins nearby? If so, I definitely don't want to stay here if it can be helped. Those metal creatures always give me the shivers."

Haz

Haz breathed out a silent word of relief behind his scarf. As the day had moved on, his walking meal had become harder and harder to move. Not because the Guar actively struggled, but simply because it was too weak to keep up. By the time the caravan finally stopped, he was quite literally dragging it along by its leash, pulling on the rope with both hands.
"Looks like we're done for today." He observed as people began to pull out tents.
"Even if the leader wants to move on, it will take more than a gentle word to get these fools moving again."

A soft thud made him look back. Old Eyeless, as that one Armiger had called the beast, had just collapsed in the ash. Not worried at all but with his anger rising again, Haz knelt down beside it and held a hand on its chest. Its heart was still beating, and it was still breathing, though weakly.
"Well, it looks like you've survived the first day. But will you survive the second?" The Argonian thought as he let go of the leash.
"Frankly, I would prefer it if you died quickly. Lugging around all this garbage is hard enough. I don't have the strength to pull you along as well."

Dralas

"Well," he said as they walked back towards the guar, "I'm not really here to work construction. My tribe let the Temple take something of mine, and I want it back, one way or another."

More and more people were getting comfortable under the bridge, and tents continued to spring up. They made it back to Morrie, who was still standing where they left him. Dralas began taking things off of the animal since they were making camp.

"Only problem is, I don't know where to look."

Dranas Heleran, Foyada Mamaea

Again, being at the head of the caravan had its perks. After helping assisting an armiger in the removal of a kagouti corpse (doing his part to curry favor with authority) Dranas was able to position his swag on a (blessedly) flat patch of ground adjacent to one of the massive buttresses that supported the bridge's massive span. In camping, as in all parts of his business, he was nothing if nothing if not precise. First Dranas constructed a modest campfire--he used a bit of roobrush for tinder, setting it underneath a cylindrical "yurt" of twigs and small branches. Once these caught flame, he would add larger pieces to the fire. Once the fire was ready he set some meat (courtesy of the now-exterminated kagouti herd) and ash yams over the flames. They would cook while he set up his nightly "quarters".

Dranas' sleep kit consisted of a light canvas tarp, a couple of light balsa-wood poles, eight light-weight steel stakes, a little bit of tough cord, and his custom-made sleeping bag. The tarp carried a light coating of resin that made it water-resistant and would, if erected properly, provide nearly as much shelter from wind and rain as a proper tent. Dranas stretched the tarp out and staked down the corners, as a start. Then he used his balsa poles to prop up each end of his "tent". The shelter was completed with a little more stretching and staking--easily strong enough for sleeping in the open, and nearly fool-proof in the lee of the bridge support. All that was left was to unroll his bag underneath it. It was one of his most prized possessions--tailor-made in Alinor from the strongest silks and stuffed with goose feathers for warmth. While others shivered in their bedrolls, Dranas would doze away in luxuriant warmth.

Speaking of warmth, his kagouti-meat and ash yams were on the verge of burning. Dranas rescued his food from the fire, pulled out a flask of brandy, and dined. Pure pleasure. After dinner he would be back to business--getting to know his fellow travelers and identifying the prospective customers.

Apelles Velvus

Apelles sat beneath the shadow of the massive dwarven bridge, as the setting sun cast its few remaining rays of light as it began to dip beneath the horizon. A small, efficient fire was burning beside him, and his cloth tent and bedroll were set up near him. He eyeballed the piece of meat roasting on the fire.

"Hmm..." he muttered. "Looks done."

He quickly grabbed the meat from the kagouti he had slain from the makeshift spit he had put it on. It had been a good, clean kill - straight through the ears. It was probably completely painless. He may have been a decent shot, but he was rarely that accurate. Such an occasion called for a celebration. He pulled out his hip flask and took a swig.

However, he couldn't savor the meal for too long. He had to get to sleep as soon as he could - the escorts would be guarding the caravan in shifts during the night. He had drawn the last shift, in the early morning, well before sunrise. It suited him well - he was an early riser. He was used to getting little sleep on expeditions into the wilderness.

But it was starting to take its toll on him. He could still do the job competently, though he wasn't quite as good as he once was. But he knew he didn't have many years left - five at the very most. His fortieth birthday was but a few months away. And the dull life of a House administrator did not suit him well at all.

Apelles looked at the great brass edifice towering above the caravan. He marveled at its intricate construction - the patterns and engravings visible even from a hundred feet below. Somehow, the structure had endured for over thirty-five centuries - longer than Vvardenfell had been an island. It had survived the great eruption that had so violently separated it from the mainland. Had it been built by any other species (save perhaps the Ayleids), it would have long since crumbled into dust, having been abandoned for so long.

Apelles would die - probably sooner rather than later. And as the centuries passed, even his memory would be lost to the sands of time. But that bridge would still be standing there, long after his children's children's children's children had succumbed to the worms.

And then he would pass into the halls of Aetherius, where he would be remade and reborn. All that he had ever been before would be purged - lost forever, forgotten even to the Nine. Gone. Destroyed. His soul would survive, but it would no longer be his. Neither he nor anything that defined who he was would survive his death. After all his living was through, after all the excitement and boredom, all the joy and misery that he had experienced, he would be unceremoniously dismantled for metaphysical scrap by a few distant, indifferent gods. And then the cycle would begin again, with a new generation born to be forgotten by their successors. And through it all, that damn bridge would still be standing there - a hunk of metal that would endure longer than the memory of any man.

In a way, he could understand why the Dunmer worshiped their ancestors - that they may not be forgotten. That they may live forever in the hearts of their descendants.

But he could never do it himself. He could never bring himself to worship his father.

He took another swig of brandy and put the cap back on the flask. Yes, soon he would rest. But first, he needed to talk to Salms Ralas.

Quietly, he got up and made his way to the lead Armiger's tent.

Dranas Heleran

Finished with dinner, Dranas was finally able to amble about camp. He noticed a pair of ashlanders in conversation--one man, one woman. Dranas had done a little bit of trading with the Zainab (exchanging perfectly legal potions for highly illegal tariff-free ebony and volcanic glass, mostly) but otherwise had few dealings with them. Why would ashlanders be doing traveling to a Temple project? It was curious. He would have to think on it.

Passing the ashlanders by, Dranas turned his attention to a pair of modestly attired city Dunmer. One, and older fellow, was a bit shorter than he was and appeared to walk with a bit of a limp. He leaned very slightly against a long walking stick. Aside from the walking stick he was unarmed. The other man was younger, taller, fitter, and armed with a small iron (OOC: is it iron, Olen? I'm guessing.) club. Dranas tramped up to them and extended a hand.

"Good evening," he said. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Dranas Heleran, trader extraordinaire."

Eno Arval

It had become clear to Eno that this place would be their camp for the night. He'd just turned his attention towards the straps of his Guar when Rothan and he were approached by a fellow traveller.
"Ah, good evening. It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Eno Arval, and I make musical instruments. My friend here...Ah, it's not my place to speak without seeking your approval. Perhaps you prefer to make your introduction yourself? Besides, I have some matters to attend to and I'd rather get them done while there is still a sun to see by." He said, finishing with a nod to Rothan.

He then excused himself as he turned his attention back towards his Guar for the moment. With a few quick tugs on the right knots and pieces of rope, he freed his tent from the creature's back. The Dunmer laid the various pieces on the ground and then removed the rest of his luggage.
"There you go. Feels a lot better doesn't it, with all that dead weight off your back, hmm?" He said while patting its nose.
"And don't worry, I'll give you your diner soon."

Rothan

Eno turned to his guar leaving Rothan with the mer who'd introduced himself as Dranas. He sported a mohawk, as was common among the more fashion conscious of the younger generation. But there was something about him which made Rothan sure he wasn't so wet behind the ears.

"I'm Rothan Sarayn, priest. If you're interested in prayer I shall be giving praise to Vivec once people have settled." He stopped to put his pack down, "What is it you trade in?"

The sun was going down and he wanted to deliver a short sermon, assuming anyone had the energy, before it set.

Dranas Heleran

Dranas was taken somewhat aback by the priest's question. What did he trade in? He'd not really ever given it much thought. After all, Dranas Heleran traded in everything; drugs, slaves, sex, information--all were means to an end.

"Well serjo, I suppose you could say that I trade in most anything. Tools, weapons, raw construction materials, foodstuffs, potables... I guess you could say that I'm a regular general store. And if I don't have it, I know where it can be got--and for the best price."

He continued, "I take it you're along to bless the construction? I wish I could say that I was interested in your prayer, as you seem a good fellow, but I must confess to not being a very religious man. I was raised far away from the Temple, and about the only prayers I've ever made were to Tava or Kynareth, and only under duress. Sailing will do that."

Rothan

Rothan wandered just how far anything went but decided not to say anything. Any big project would attract entrepreneurs perhaps Dranas dealt in illicit wares but equally the suggestion might have been innocent. Either way it wasn't his business, yet. He was used to people not being interested in religion, especially outlanders and didn't really care. The sermon was only a cover anyway.

"Very well, if you ever feel you wish to know more I am here," he paused to rake though his bag, "I'm about to have some hackle-lo tea if you want some, I swear I'm always most tired after the first day."

He pulled a small pan from his bag and quickly found some, rather low quality, dried hackle-lo but whoever had packed hadn't given him anything to sweeten it with.

"Hmm," he looked back to Dranas, "Do you have any sugar?"

Dranas Heleran

For a moment Dranas thought that the priest was asking for moon sugar (such was the way his mind was programmed) but he quickly recalibrated his thinking. Rothan wanted the ordinary, non-illegal, sweetener. Though it was true that the one of the main khajiti uses for moon sugar was to sweeten cooking... not now!, he thought.

"Of course," he said. "I've got a whole sack of it over at my camp. If you want to start on the tea, I'll go get the sugar."

Rothan

Rothan nodded as Dranas departed and started laying a small fire. Some other travellers already had theirs going so he borrowed a burning stick rather than striking a fresh fire himself. He set the pan between two stones on the fire and waited for it to boil. He had just added the leaves when Dranas returned with the sugar.

"Thanks," said Rothan, "Put a fair bit in, I could use the energy. I wander if any of that Kagouti meat is still available..."

Dranas Heleran

Dranas spooned out an ample helping of sugar, speaking as he worked.

"This here is the finest--maybe the second finest--sugar in the Empire. Got it straight from the cane fields outside Torval, in Elsweyr. You know this stuff is blessed by The Mane? Don't know if you've heard of him, but he's kind of the local deity, in my understanding. Kind of like your Tribunal... except mortal, I guess."

Dranas finally looked up. "You wanted kagouti meat?"

Erna Rahnis

As darkness began to settle over the camp, Erna realised he would need a place to sleep. And he wouldn't mind some company.

The guar's former owner had packed a tent, and so Erna cast around for a place to set it up, before noticing that two men, one older than the other, had set up their tents and there was room for a third. He could also smell some hackle lo tea brewing.

He wandered over to the two men and asked; "Room for anyone else?"

Apelles Velvus

Apelles made his way toward Salms Ralas's tent. It wasn't too far off - under the bridge, near the north end of the camp.

As he walked, he passed by Dranas Heleran, who was talking to a pair of Dunmer.

Potential customers, perhaps, he thought. He paid them no heed - he knew Heleran wouldn't conduct his real business out in the open like this. He was likely just scouting out for possible buyers.

But then he heard the word "sugar" and stopped dead in his tracks.

He wouldn't dare...

He shot a quick glance over to the scene. They were beside a small fire, boiling some tea. He wasn't sure, but one of them looked to be a priest. Definitely not his usual clientele.

Ah...he was talking about regular sugar.

Still, the conversation intrigued him. He listened in a bit closer.

Oooh...not the kind of thing you should say to a priest. Apelles winced.

He decided he'd stay put for a while, just to listen to how the priest would respond. He remained still, but inconspicuous, sitting down on the dry ground next to a group congregated around a large fire, avoiding looking at them too directly. However, he was seriously contemplating actually confronting them...

Rothan

Rothan hardly heard the offer of kagouti meat. The comment about the Tribunal had hit a little to close to a certain text which lay in the back of his pack. Are they truly immortal? Yes, the text must be lies... He shook the thoughts from his mind. Dranas couldn't possibly know. But suddenly the book didn't seem quite as well hidden as he'd have liked.

He became aware his silence was stretching, "Quite. The Tribunal are immortal and will watch over us." Even that didn't fit though, if they were all powerful then why were they only fencing Dagoth Ur in? He paused, aware that he should be spouting a sermon. But how balanced could such a sermon be? "When Almsivi washed clean Vvardenfel of the taint of Dagoth Ur they returned as our immortal protectors..." he let it trail away. "Anyway," he continued stirring the pot, "Sounds like this sugar is quite the stuff. Not the only sugar to some out of Elsweyr mind, I hope you're not trying to poison me." He smiled.

Just as he was going to pour the tea a figure emerged by the fire. "Room for anyone else?" he asked.

"I'd say so. I'm Rothan Sarayn, priest." Rothan extended his hand.

Dranas Heleran

Poison? His stuff?

"The best moon sugar is no more dangerous than this cane stuff right here..." he started, before realizing that he'd gone down a road he hadn't intended. He tried to save face by pretending to notice the newcomer for the first time.

"Oh, hello. Dranas Heleran, trader. By all means, have a seat."

Then he tried to restart the conversation with Rothan on a different tack, recalling something curious the man had just said.

"So wait, if the Tribunal washed clean the taint of Dagoth Ur, why are they building a Ghostfence, again? I mean, what happened?"

"Thank you," Erna said, before remembering the normal thing to do and adding; "Erna Rahnis."

He sat down and slung his pack next to him, sizing up the two men. One of them had a ridiculous mohawk haircut, and the other seemed to be a priest. Erna could tell that he was one of the types that thought he was big-his type had joined his friends before.

They usually died the quickest. And even if he didn't, Erna might just kill him anyway. Anyone stupid enough to grow their hair like that didn't deserve to live, in his opinion.

The priest could be a problem-they always seemed to take offence at his kind of worship, and most of them were never open minded enough just to be nice to him after they discovered it. Erna slipped the small brass pendant deeper beneath his shirt, for once taking care not to cut himself on its razor edge.

"So," he said. "What was this about the tribunal?"

Rianne

"Ok...I think I understand" She looked thoughtfully at him. She helped unpack Morrie, the guar looked at Dralas a bit suspiciously but didn't make a move.

"Heey Morrie, it's ok we're just makng it more comfortable for you" Rianne stroke the guar's head tenderly.

"So, shall we make a tent out of these blankets?" I'll go and find some sticks...besides, there´s a dunmer over there who looks a tad familiar...I'm sure I've seen him somewhere before...I'm sure he can be of use to us...if he is the one I think he is!...I think I'll go and say hello, you can come if you like.."

Rianne looked at the Dunmer who was in a conversation with some others, and approached them with a friendly grin in her face.

"Good Evening to you, can I borrow a firewood? I seem to have forgotten my tools for firemaking."


OOC.:It's Dranas who she recognise, she saw him once trading with the Zainab, he on the other hand has probably not seen her, at least that's what she thinks!

Rothan

Dranas's comments on moonsugar struck Rothan as strange. Most of the native dunmer would deny any knowledge of the drug, even the most liberal wouldn't defend its use. Yet Dranas mentioned it as if it was a simple thing like flour. It was possible he was a user but then Rothan remembered him mentioning that he traded in anything. The next thing Dranas said dispelled any musings from Rothan's mind though. It was very close to heresy, and to the more problematic issues raised in a certain book.

"During the battle of Red Mountain Almsivi ventured deep into the caverns of Dagoth Ur to confront the evil Dwemer and the treacherous House Dagoth. By providence the faithless outlanders were utterly destroyed," he paused. None doubted this much but then came a harder part. What to say? "When they returned they were our gods by the virtue of fighting evil and the blessings of the ancestors and good Deadra." He paused again. He didn't believe the last part, not completely. And he wasn't a great lair.

"Anyway in recent years the ashstorms have become worse and the profane lands around Red Mountain ever more dangerous. It seems likely that the power of Dagoth Ur has increased, and that I why we act." Again he stopped. This time he decided not to continue as the last sentence played though his head. He'd meant the crater named after the vile creature whom the Tribunal defeated. It hadn't come out that way, but it was what he believed.

Just then the ashlander woman who was in the caravan came over and spoke to Dranas. Rothan was glad of the interruption though he regarded her with mistrust. What place did a heathen ashlander have in a temple project?

Dranas Heleran

The ashlander woman's interruption was welcome, if a little odd. In any case, it gave him an out from this odd conversation--clearly his question troubled the priest, for some reason. Very curious. Ah, but the question.

"Firewood? My good lady, I must confess that I'm not really carrying any." He pointed to a little shrub, then to a trama root. "You can use fire petals for tinder and break off some trama for wood. A little fire spell to get it lit, or if you're out of magic, like I sometimes am, you can rub sticks together. Fire petals will catch a flame real easy."

He stopped, feeling odd. An ashlander, he thought, would know all that he just said already. So why ask him? Perhaps she had another purpose.

He extended a hand. "Dranas Heleran, by the way."

Rianne

Ahhh yes it is him! I do recognize him, He was visiting the Zainab..yes! yes he went to the wise woman's yurt..hmm Dranas..oh yes that's definitely him


"Rianne..." she said silently. " I..I thank you for your advice2 she bowed her head. "I sort of overheard your conversation just now, so I understand you're a trader?


I won't go any further, this man knows things, I'll be watching him, maybe Dralas could have some tiny use of this man..later

Rianna turned around and returned to Dralas and Morrie

"Crap, I forgot the poles" she sighed

OOC: Am I right in thinking that Rianne has left earshot of the group where she is with Dralas? If not I'll edit.

Rothan

Rothan watched the ashlander walk away. Why would an ashlander woman ask about fire-making. They seemed to be able to find just about anything out in the ashlands, and the foyada was certainly similar enough. It was almost as if she had been thinking of buying something wit the trader comment.

"A strange one and no mistake," he said, "What do you think she wanted?"

Erna

"No idea," Erna said. "I reckon she's up to something. Got an ulterior motive. Can't trust those ashlanders."

He poured himself a cup of hackle-lo tea.

"I spoke to her before we left," Erna continued. "And I just thought there was something odd about her. Like that guar of hers-no guar should be that well behaved, it's just natural. You know what I reckon?"

He leant forwards conspiritorialy.

"I reckon that she's a witch of some sort."


OOC: I really hope Rianne is out of earshot...

Dranas Heleran

"Hmph. I don't know about that. Most ashlanders are pretty good with guars, far as I can tell. Hell, I'm pretty good with guars myself."

He paused, poured himself a cup of tea.

"But she might be mabrigash. They're common enough. Or she just could just be a wise-woman type. Either way, I've no idea what she could want, 'specially from me. Save for the Zainab, ashlanders ain't much for trading with outlanders like myself, or even Great House Dunmer, for that matter. Curious, is what it is."

Dranas finally endeavored to change the conversation... he didn't care to speculate more on the matter of the ashlander without having more time to think on it.

"So, Erna, what are you here for?"

Erna

Erna almost panicked when he heard that question, but he kept his cool and remembered his cover story.

"Me?" he asked. "I tell fortunes. Tarot, you see?"

He pulled a pile of paper cards from the pocket of his coat.

"You?" he asked.

Dranas Heleran

"As I said before, I'm a trader. Tools, weapons, general supplies, food and drink... I'm the man to see."

Dranas paused to mix a little brandy in with his tea... magic tea, he called the combination.

"Ahh... that's good. Nothing like a little brandy before bed. I hope your tarot business goes well. I believe that I ought to hit the sack here shortly. Be a long day tomorrow, I imagine." Dranas finished his magic tea and stood. "Good night, gentlemen."

Dralas

When Rianne stepped away, Dralas sat on a rock rummaging through his two sacks of temple materials. They were only common items. One of his sacks contained two sacks within; a sack of saltrice and another of hackle-lo. He pinched some of the latter and added it to his own pouch. The other, heavier sack held various and numerous hand tools.

At least the Temple didn't seem to be putting the remains of ancestors in the sacks and handing them to the general public for transportation. The last thing Dralas wanted to do was search through everyone's bag. now he just needed to know who on the caravan was with the Temple, and who would be carrying what he was looking for. He put everything (except for a bit of hackle-lo) back in the sacks and chewed some of the new leaf. He had to admit; the priests didn't have bad taste.

He glanced over his shoulder to see Rianne coming back. "It doesn't look like we'll need them tonight anyway," he said, glancing at the darkening sky, "Doubt it will rain. So did you know the mer you thought you recognized?"

Rianne

"Yes...i recognized him, he's a shrewd one, a merchant, he claims to be, but his merchandise could be of various kind!..Besides, he knows everything, I bet he knows where your.....items are"

Dralas hadn't exactly told her what he was looking for, but she knew what it was, she just knew.

She took one of the blankets and wrapped it around her.. Then she approached Morrie and whispered omething in her ear. The big animal shook her big head , then laid herself down and so provided a kind of shelter...

Rianne smiled, took out some hackle-lo lit one and offered Dralas the other

"So friend, why don't you tell me exactly what you're after? I am sure I can help you, those men over there...I stunned them, they don't know what to think of me, hehe, an ashlander asking for fire-woods, pffff that's what I told them...and the trader..he didn't recognize me, that's for sure"

she put out her hackle-lo and starte playing the flute, very silently and suggestive

Dralas

While Rianne piddled on the flute, he answered, "Between me and you, the Temple is taking the bones of our ancestors and using them in construction of the fence. My family's tomb was raided, and the bones taken. I tracked them to this caravan, but that's all I know." He spit the leaf he had been chewing on the ground to make room for Rianne's rolled leaf. He suddenly realized how much he had been using hackle-lo in some form or other, but ignored the thought in favor of more important ones.

"And if this merchant does know anything. I'll bet he wants to be paid," he paused to take a deep breath of smoke, "That's a bit of a problem for me."

Dralas left out a few key elements in his story, like killing people of his own clan and being exiled, but they weren't things he liked to even think about, much less talk about. What would he do once he recovered the bones? He couldn't go back home, and he refused to live in a permanent settlement for a long period of time. Setting that thought aside for later, he took in more smoke.

OOC: Wait, you can play a flute silently? Err, I'll just go and assume you mean it is little more than a whisper. Also, I find it somewhat amusing that Eno has essentially been given the opportunity to listen in on the whole sugar/moonsugar/religion conversation because he's building a tent right next to them! But don't worry folks, I'll make it easy for you to keep things a secret from him, if you want to.

Eno Arval

Rothan and the man with the mohawk, this Dranas Heleran, had begun a conversation. However, Eno was so focussed on first building his tent (little more than a glorified umbrella) and then feeding his Guar that he honestly couldn't tell what the conversation had been about. He did remember the words 'tea' and 'Tribunal being mentioned once or twice, so he assumed it had been some simple inquiries into each other's profession and preferred drink. Maybe he would talk to Dranas later, see what kind of goods he had.

Once he'd finished his tasks, the Dunmer stood up and stretched till he heard a soft pop somewhere down his spine. Looking over his shoulder, he noticed that a third Dunmer had joined.
"Hmm, I've seen him before. Oh right, he was that Rahnis fellow, Erna. We met last night at the tavern, just before I went to sleep. Or tried to sleep." Eno thought and for a moment wondered if he should try to join them.

He'd just opened his mouth to speak however, when a pair of Armigers walked passed, no doubt on their way to their place for tonight's watch. One of them, was bragging to the other about his archery.
"You should have seen the eyes of that beast. They nearly bulged out of its skull when it suddenly found its tongue pinned to the back of its throat by my arrow."

Eno's gaze followed the two men till they vanished behind one of the large rocks that were strewn about the foyada.
"Kagouti? Hmm, this could be an opportunity. They came from the front of the caravan so, I think I'll check it out." He decided, patted his Guar on the head, checked the pole he'd hammered into the ground and tied it to, and finally set off towards the front of the caravan.

As he neared the front, he saw that there had indeed been Kagouti, a whole herd of them. A single Armiger was posted to stand watch over the carcasses, while plenty of travellers flocked around it like Cliffracers.
"Ah, excuse me, good sir." Eno called out and approached the Armiger.
"Hmm, you want Kagouti meat for diner as well? Well, I do admit that the rations they hand out aren't exactly tasty." The Armiger replied with a chuckle. He then turned his head back towards the besieged cadavers and shook his head.
"Well, I'm not interested in their meat actually...Forgive me for asking, but does something bother you?" Eno said as he watched the scene with the man.

"It's nothing, but my father was a butcher you know. He could strip a Guar of its finest meat, all through just a small slit in the skin as long a finger. These men and women, they just hack off whatever looks tastiest for them, throw away what they don't need and leave the rest to rot. Look at how they tore the beautiful skin of those animals to pieces. It just feels like a waste to me, I guess." The Armiger muttered.
"But enough about me, how can I help you? You said you weren't interested in their meat. Good for you, because what's left has been trampled into the ash."

"Indeed, I am not interested in the flesh, but rather in the bones." Eno told him. He already leaned forward to get a closer look at a Kagouti's toe.
"The bones? I don't understand but I suppose it is no problem." The butcher's son answered.
"Really? That is wonderfull. I'm an instrument maker, you know. Bones are such wonderful materials that can be used for just about anything. Flutes, drumsticks, plugs, bells. I'm particularly fond of Cliff-racer bones for flutes. They're already hollow, you see."

"An instrument maker? I would love to hear you play one day. If it's bones you want, I can give you any bone you want. But leave the cutting to me. I'm not a professional like my father, but I might still be able to save some of the meat." The Armiger said and they both moved in to investigate a carcass that the other travelers had judged as 'stripped clean'. Eno laughed.
"Believe me, you'd rather not. I'm much better at making them than I am at playing them. Now how about we take a thighbone? I haven't worked with something that big before."


Haz, somewhere at the rear of the caravan

Haz ate his rations with his back turned to everybody else. He refused to risk showing his scaled snout to anyone. After that, he simply laid down on his back and closed his eyes. All over the place he had seen tents being set up but he didn't have one. Didn't need one either.
"After all, what need does a hero have for comfort?"

Rothan

"Good night gentlemen," said Dranas as he stood.

Rothan nodded, "I think it's time I hit the sack too. Thanks for the sugar."

He opened his pack and pulled out a blanket. One side had a waxed canvas stitched to it to protect against any morning dew. He laid it out on a flattish patch of ground by the fire. He pulled a sweetroll from his pack and munched it with the blanket wrapped round him.

Dranas Heleran

Dranas ambled the short distance back to his camp. He quickly parceled out some wickwheat to his guars, then looked over the camp. In perfect order--he noted his bags intact, his sword sitting under next to his bedroll. He made sure the fire was out cold--it was--then ducked under his tarp and wormed his way into his sleeping bag. Pure heaven... soft, warm, snug. He let himself drift off into sleep.

----------------

OOC: I hesitate to write a morning yet... were Rianne and Dralas still sort of talking? And was Apelles going to speak with the armiger? If there is nothing else when I wake up tomorrow, I will write a morning for Dranas and let everyone else settle their business as they will.

Dranas Heleran

As the sky shifted gradually from black to navy to pale blue dawn, so too Dranas shifted from asleep to fitful consciousness to fully awake. It was morning. He enjoyed a final moment in the luxurious warmth of his bag before squirming out from underneath his tarp to stand upright. He grabbed his sword and scabbard, secured his arsenal to his side, and then made for his sack of wickwheat. His guars would need feeding.

That accomplished he rekindled his fire, then greased his skillet and sat the cast-iron upon the flames with a great chunk of salted crab meat sitting inside. With the meat cooking he had time to lean back against one of his packs, gnaw on scrib jerky, and watch the others stir.

Haz.

Haz had trouble sleeping with the knowledge that he was surrounded by nothing but Dunmer. As such, he was already wide awake well before sunrise. He looked at the decrepit Guar as the sky slowly brightened. The beast continued to amaze him with its desire to live. He had been absolutely convinced that it would die during the cold night.
"But I bet you're going to force me to drag you around again today. Really, I should just forget about all this and kill you. I'd be doing you a favour. But I can't do that because one of those pointy-eared rats would complain about it. Stupid elves." He thought angrily.

Rothan

Rothan awoke with the dawn. Most of the caravan still slept, or had only just woken so he took a few minutes to stretch the knots from his back. Getting soft, he thought to himself, Too much time on soft mattresses and not on the trail. Once he'd finished he dressed and tried to adjust the unfamiliar weight of the cudgel on his hip so it was comfortable. After a few moments he gave up and opened his bag.

The fire had burnt to dull embers and he couldn't be bothered resurrecting it. They'd be off soon with any luck. He pulled out the squashed remnants of a sweetroll and decided to call it breakfast. A bit of ash had gotten into his pack and made it taste a bit strange but he was hungry and didn't mind.

Erna

Erna shivered himself awake with a grin of tortured joy upon his face. With nothing but his thick shirt and coat to protect himself from the cold of the night, getting sleep was hard, but the destruction of the self was the perfect tribute to his master. Even if he died of cold, he knew it would still be a gratefully accepted sacrifice.

He stretched and yawned, before seeing that the priest Rothan had begun to start a new fire from the remains of the old one. He searched through the pack on his dozing guar, before discovering a pair of kwarma eggs stored within.

"How do kwarma eggs sound for breakfast?" Erna asked.

OOC: Rothan didn't actually restart the fire but it doesn't matter

Rothan

"Sounds fine," Rothan answered. He thought about offering Erna some sweetroll but it wasn't really fit to give to anyone. He swallowed the last couple of bites. "What was it you said you were going to the construction for?"

Dralas

Dralas was up early that morning after a decent sleep under nothing but sky. Deciding against breakfast, he splashed some water on his face and lit another roll of hackle-lo before walking around the camp. His eyes scanned in every direction as he moved, noting things of interest. The Temple's 'official' tent wasn't hard to spot. It was stood taller and wider than most others, and it had a vent at the top making an interior fire possible. Smoke was rising from it this morning, and the smell made Dralas suddenly want breakfast.

He doubted that the priests would have the bones with them in the tent; it would most likely be treated as cargo and guarded. He tossed his burnt out leaf and went towards the tent anyway. Inside, the fire glowed and thin strips of hound meat were being cooked. To his left were the healers, who had a few bedrolls laid out on the ground and two tables crowded with alchemical supplies. He assumed that the living quarters were on his right, since a curtain divided the tent.

"Hello!" a cheerful young priest greeted him, "How can the Temple serve you?"

"Yes, I uh, think I'm sick," it was a lame excuse, but figured it could start up some conversation.

"Here, sit." the priest said, leading him to one of the bedrolls, "So what exactly is wrong?"

"I'm coughing often," he coughed just then for added effect, "And sometimes get chills."

"Hmm...sounds like I could fix it with some chokeweed and lichen."

While the priest stood working at the table, Dralas stayed put.

"Have you been to Ghostgate yet?" he asked the priest.

"Oh, yes a few times! It's coming along nicely, but it's still dangerous out there in the ashlands. Ghostgate itself is safe enough, but some of the construction crews farther out are seeing trouble." he said, "Dagoth Ur is trying desperately to stop us, but the Armigers and Ordinators do well at keeping everyone safe."

"So you really think this wall is going to keep the blight and monsters inside for good?"

The priest seemed puzzled, "This is no ordinary wall, sir. Haven't you heard?"

He played the ignorant ashlander for a moment, "No,"

"Here, take this," the priest said, handing him a cup full of the fresh concoction.

Dralas drank while the priest resumed, "Anyway, the Ghostfence is no ordinary wall. It's going to be a great shield, fueled by the combined powers of the Tribunal."

"But ghost fences used to be everywhere. The Houses used the bones of their ancestors to fuel them. How is this one different?"

The priest paused for a moment, surprised by Dralas' sudden bluntness, "Yes, the old customs are changing. The Temple is requesting the remains of many ancestors, but that alone will not be enough for a ghost fence this size. That's why the Tribunal is stepping in."

Dralas nodded and dropped the implications he was making, "Well, thank you for the potion. I think I feel better already."

As he left the tent, he kept thinking. He had guessed from the beginning what the Temple was using the bones for; he had heard of ghost fences. But the priest had mentioned it casually, as if many Velothi were donating their ancestors' remains. Dralas wondered if the Tribunal would even contribute any real energy to the fence if the use of bones was this widespread.

He walked back towards his own small camp site.

Apelles Velvus

Apelles continued to stand on guard on the edges of the camp, scanning the area for threats. He had been up for a few hours now, doing his duties as an escort. The sun had just risen - the beginning of the end of the dawn hour. He could feel more relaxed at dawn. The crepuscular fauna of Morrowind - the creatures of Azura - were less of a threat to humans than those of Nocturnal.

He pulled some food out of his pack and began to eat. A cold breakfast was the only kind he could have while still remaining focused on his duty.

He thought back to last night, when he had told Salms Ralas of his history with Dranas Heleran. He had seemed so...indifferent about it. As if he were preoccupied by something else. He dismissed him quickly as soon as he had explained everything. He had no additional questions, or statements of concern.

It seemed so unlike him to be so dismissive. And his eyes had seemed to be staring far off into the distance - beyond even the end of the horizon. Apelles had noticed this and asked what was wrong.

"Nothing," he had said. "Nothing more than concern for the caravan."

"Well, this caravan is far better prepared than the last one. We have more men, more blight cures, Intervention scrolls..."

"Yes...of course..." he trailed off, concerns not alleviated.

"Well, I hope you feel better about it soon, because we won't make it far if our leader's head is a clouded mess of unfounded worries." Apelles regretted it the moment he said it - he hadn't even been drinking much. This was simply a stupid thing to say to a superior officer.

"Get out," Ralas said quietly.


Apelles took another bite of hound jerky. Salms' behavior last night had been quite curious indeed. His reaction to what Apelles had said seemed to snap him out of it slightly, but not entirely.

Apelles stirred and walked toward a roaring fire. One of the Armigers was boiling a large pot of hackle-lo tea for the guards on duty - a common courtesy shown to early-morning shifts. He certainly could use some tea right now.

Rianne

"Pffff" Rianne woke up abruptly because a small scrib was walking over her face. She shoved the animal away, gently, she didn'r want it no harm. It was early morning, she noticed Dralas was gone though...

She took out some hackle-lo and rolled it thoroughly before she lit it. The smoke going down her lungs made her cough.

Then she saw Dralas exit the Temple's tent...

What is he up to? He should be more careful, those Temple-guys are not to be trusted..


"Heey, Friend, good morning, fancy some breakfast?"

She looked in her backpack to see what's available; bread, scrib-jerky and quite a lot of hackle-lo

Ah well we'll survive

Eno Arval

"Ow, my leg feels all cramped. That's why I hate sleeping outdoors." Were Eno's first words after waking up. He carefully massaged his crippled leg, sneering a little as his fingers rubbed over the bump that indicated the place where the bone had once been broken and never healed properly.

As he did so, he looked at the camp around him. It seemed that he had been among the last to wake up. Among the last, not the last, he noted to himself slightly amused. His Guar was still soundly asleep it seemed and he chose not to wake it just yet.
"We've got a long day ahead of us again, so I might as well let you enjoy your sleep for a bit longer."

He also noticed Erna and Rothan sitting around last night's campfire right next to him.
"Ah, good morning. Had a good rest, I hope? No muscle cramp anywhere?" He said to them with a nod and then reached for his own bag of rations, knocking over the small pile of Kagouti bones in the process.
"Ah, oops. I completely forgot about those. Anyway, let's see what I'll have for breakfast. Oh...here's some bread. That would do nicely." He mumbled to himself.

Dranas Heleran

Breakfast finished, Dranas made his way over to the big fire where a few armigers were gathering--making tea, it seemed. He wanted to figure out how soon the caravan would be resuming travel, so he could be certain to once again take up a position in front, to avoid the dust and ash kicked up by foot traffic. He'd already packed up most of his gear--ready to leave on a moments. If possible, he would encourage faster progress--the sooner they arrived at the construction site, the sooner he could start making a profit. (Dealing in transit, with the caravan, was too risky.)

He stopped. There was Apelles Velvus. Well of course he was there. Since he hadn't been kicked out of the caravan yet, there was no reason to worry. In fact, he might as well have some fun. Dranas sidled up quietly next to Velvus and asked, "You have any idea when we figure to get this outfit moving again?"

Dralas

"You have no idea," he answered as he sat down next to Rianne.

She handed him a strip of scrib jerky on top of a piece of bread, and he didn't hesitate to bite into it. He felt bad relying on Rianne's hospitality so much; she'd already fed him numerous times, not to mention that he was using her guar to ferry his cargo. On the other hand, though, she didn't seem to mind and the Ahemussa held selflessness in higher regard than his own tribe. Besides, he had every intention of returning the favor once he began working at ghostgate.

All around them, people were tearing down tents and packing up to resume the trek across the grey wasteland. Seeing that as a cue, he finished his meal and started to load the supplies onto Morrie's back. Or, rather, he tried to. The guar refused to let him even get close, much less sling anything across its back. Dralas couldn't decide if he thought it was funny or frustrating.

He looked over at Rianne, who seemed to never have trouble with the thing, "A little help?"

Rianne

Rianne noticed that Dralas didn't manage to load their things on Morrie, so with a smile she went over to the big animal and stared it right into its eyes

"Morrie, my lass" she whispered " Easy now, let Dralas come near you he's our friend, he won't do you no harm" Her voice was soft and almost singing. Morrie stopped tossing her big head back and forth and seemed to listen to Rianne. The girl held out her hand towards the guar, with two fingers pointing directly at it, this gesture seemed to calm it down and let Dralas load the stuff.

"I..I've always been able to sort of talk to animals, it's a kind of gift I have, don't know why, but it's pretty convenient at the moment, don't you think?"

Rianne then turned to Dralas, whispering in his ear:

"We are the only ones of our sort here, we just have to stick together, and Ahemmusa custom says we share what we have, without any questions, because in the long run everything will be even...besides, remember I sort of....have things and my things are your things...just so you know!"

She gently put her hand on his shoulder, smiling...


OOC: the gesture Rianne pulled is the same as Crocodile Dundee does in his films! Hope you understood that despite my poor explanation of it

Haz

Haz just wanted to get moving instead of waiting for everyone to wake up. But even he realized that going through the Ashlands on his own was suicide. Not that he was planning anything else, but dying now would make him worthless.

So while a few campfires were relit and tents broken up, Haz unceremoniously piled his bags on his Guar.
"I refuse to carry them myself today as well. So have fun, dumb beast." He thought venomously. The Guar whimpered and squealed softly under the load.


OOC: and there you go, one dead Guar guaranteed.