Eno

Eno winced.
"Ugh, both sound horrid enough to make the dead fly up and strangle a racer." He said.
"Which I suppose, might be the whole point. Although, I believe they started drinking before the attack. Since the guards managed to contain the Daedra to the shrine itself, I bet these fellows never even noticed a thing. Lucky them. I envy them." He rambled on, watching James work with his questionable ingredients.
"Or maybe I don't. Yes, I definitely don't."

The man chuckled despite himself. Somehow, James attitude was refreshing. He felt himself getting caught up in it.
"If it's horrible things we're looking for, I've got a good two dozen flutes in my bags. Fine pieces of craftmanship if I might say so myself, but never ever let the maker himself play them. That should provide an alternative tool if you run out of....droppings and vomit."

The priest with no name

The priest looked up from his doings. It wasn't the first time he'd been asked questions regarding the evacuation but unlike the other times, this one was worded politely.
"Totally unlike that miserable outlander." He thought to himself.
"When do we leave? If all things go right, we should be ready to move in two or three hours, good sir. If you would happen to require help gathering your goods, please don't hesitate to enlist the aid of one of our clerks."

Erna

Two or three hours? It would be nice and dark then, perfect.

"Excellent," he said, smiling. "Thank you very much."

It seemed that Erna's work had been done for him. Of course, the chances of them being actually attacked were small, but there was chance.

Still, even if it wasn't, the fun would really start once he reached the Ghostgate.

James.

James grinned at Eno. "You my friend is one unique person...in a good way of course, now I'll go with the droppings today and save the vomit for another occasion".

What followed were a few minutes of furious brewing before James poured the potion into a small flask. Amazingly enough the potion was completely odourless so no one should suspect anything. Briefly looking around for his first victim James grinned as he spotted the priest and then walked over.

"Pardon my good sir but I realized that I spoke hastily before and was quite rude as well, instead I should have listened to your wisdom...may I beg your forgiveness with an offer of fine spring water bought in Mournhold's grand temple and blessed by Almalexia herself?"

James held poured out some of the potion in a cup and held it out towards the priest, hopefully the careful flattery about the temple and of course obvious stroking of the man's ego would fool him into drinking it.

OOC: Imagine the worst smell and taste you can and multiply it with ten and it should give you an inkling to how bad it tastes...though it should give them an amazing rush of strength and clear the mind to sharp levels. Have fun with the explanation of the taste Jackie

Rianne

She was satisfied with her healing of Dralas' arm, it worked out well, and Sinnamu Mirpal would have been pleased with her.

"Ok, you go and get Morrie, I'll fix some fortification for us"

She noticed in the corner of her eye that the Breton did some alchemical experiment...

I wonder...he's just so strange, I'm a bit afraid of him actually

When Rothan returned he had a whole skin full of water with him..

"Excellent! Now open it up so I can pour this in it!" Rianne added just a few drops of the liquid in the black shimmering bottle to the water. A grey thin smoke appeared at the opening of the skin.

She smiled, now they were set.

"Ok," she said in a somewhat higher voice. "Come here everybody, I got something for you, to pick you up"

She then turned to Rothan "Would you like to be the first to try?" she asked him politely

Behind her she noticed some commotion.

Is it Dralas???



OOC: This potion is, on the contrary to James' very well tasting. In fact it makes you want more! It's effect is not as dramatic as James' might be...but it lasts a loooooooooooooooong time. It's naturally an ashlander secret

Rothan

Rothan looked uneasily at the smoke which still drifted from the skin's neck. He dismissed any idea that Rianne was trying to poison the caravan off hand but was still curious.

"What is it?" he asked, "A stimulant I assume but what? I've never seen hackle-lo tea smoke before," he paused, "But if it's safe then yes I'll have some. I think I'll want it by the end of tonight." He took the proffered skin and waited for a response.

Rianne

Rianne smiled, she was familiar with others being suspcious of her drinks and other "things"

"No, no, it's not hackle-lo! Then again I do have that stuff also, no this is made from a special variety of ....a common flower, but I can't tell you which one. But you can trust me this will actually do you good! Taste good as well!"

"I suppose you won't be more releived if Dralas would tell you it's ok, you donät trust us ashlanders, do you?"

Rothan

"After this morning I hardly think you can blame me for having doubts," he said. Was Rianne so different from those that had attacked the caravan? Somehow yes. He took a swig of the potion. It tasted flowery and ever so slightly sweet, like a lady's perfume but not so overpowering. He could feel it taking effect too. A mild burn in his muscles and a feeling of alertness, like hackle-lo but with none of the jitters which often accompanied it.

He passed the skin back to Rianne, "That's good stuff. Would any ashlander know how to make it?"

Rianne

She smiled at Rothan...

"No...just Wise Women and their students..."

Priestly guy

The priest looked up, a sneer already forming on his face. A sneer that made place for a pleasant smile upon hearing the Breton's apology.
"So even that stupid Outlander can learn. I should accept his gift with grace." He thought.
"I would be honoured with such a gift. Please, do not worry yourself. It is the nature of ALMSIVI to be forgiving, an example as to what we must aspire to become." He said as he accepted the cup and brought it to his lips.

SSSSCCERRRRREEEETTTTCHHHH!!!!! (OOC: Really painful sound)

So appalling was the sudden sound that the priest dropped the cup in shock.
"What in the name of....Cut that out, old man!" He snapped at Eno. The instrument-maker lowered the flute with an innocent expression.
"Ah, most sorry. I just felt like performing some music. I hope I didn't bother you?" He humbly spoke.
"That's no music! Not even Ur would aprove of such madness!" The priest shouted back. It was then that he noticed the 'spring water' that had been spilled onto the ash.
"And look, you made me waste the holy water!"

Eno took on a suitably ashamed expression.
"Ah, most sorry." He mumbled.
"Just make sure you never try to make this 'music' again!" The priest snapped one last time before stomping off. As soon as he was out of earshot, Eno dropped the act and shook his head.
"Seriously, James. Do you have a dead wish? As far as flattery goes, that would have worked just brilliantly...if it had been average not necessarily blessed water. But with that stuff...were you planning on making him think you're an anti-temple poisoner? If you want to feed it to anyone, feed it to the drunks. Don't feed it to the guy who would surely have the nearest Ordinator turn your skull to mush." He scolded the Breton. Then, he shrugged.
"Ah well, at least he believes it was holy water. So he won't be going out of his way to harm you out of spite now."


OOC: I know, I chickened out by not giving myself a chance to describe the taste. I just thought that the last thing James could use was having the priest dislike him even more.

James

James sulking at the wasted opportunity turned to relief once he thought about the situation. "Thanks, I must have acted a tad to hasty...it's just that I get so depressed when proof of man and mer-kind's ineptitude is constantly thrown in my face".

"Still I'll take your words into consideration and start to help these 'misguided' souls, say would you mind following me and play some music to brighten up their day?"

OOC: No prob, there is still a load of drunks to sober up.

Rothan

For a moment Rothan couldn't speak. He looked at the ashlander woman carefully, "So your a Wise Woman, or studying to be one?" he asked, "Perhaps, in a place less..." he paused for the word, "Open to eavesdropping I might ask you some questions?"

The ashlanders passed stories from wise woman to wise woman, its how their history was told. There were some major discrepancies between the stories and his doctrine in certain areas which distressed him, if perhaps he heard the story fresh, as it were, it might settle his mind.

Rianne

She looked carefully at Rothan and smiled to his astonished looks

"Yes, I am studying to be a Wise Woman, and have been doing that for as long as I can remember, the wise women are chosen when they are very young. You are welcome to ask me a question"

She did remember her good manners....

Rothan

Rothan paused, was it wise to ask here and now with so many priests about? No. But would he necessarily get another chance? It was too good to miss, and it wasn't heresy to hear if the tales were true. Maybe they were all fabricated by the heretics.

"You have legends," he started, knowing he would have to be careful, "Or at least I've read you have, about the origin of blessed Almsivi's power. I believe these are different to our writings and would like to hear them." He held up a hand to forestall any protest, "I do not ask as a test or as perhaps the ordinators would, I am simply interested. Interested and troubled, you seem to know much of our culture for an ashlander so I would also ask where you believe the truth lies."

He stopped, there was something powerful in letting his thoughts outside the confines of his mind. It made them real, and he couldn't deny them at will. He shivered slightly and glanced to make sure they weren't overheard.

Dralas

Dralas returned, with Morrie the guar on a leash behind him. He knew nothing of the current conversation, but he did notice that Rothan looked a little tense.

He busied himself by securing Morrie's cargo, and pinched a bit more of the Temple's hackle-lo. He sat on a rock and began rolling the leaf while he listened and waited.

The rest of the caravaners were also packing up to leave, but there was no telling how long it would take to get this number of people moving again after such a crisis.

Rianne

Rianne felt awkward, she knew she wasn't allowed to speak of her Tribe's legends, since she wasn't really a Wise Woman yet, she still had to take the rites before she could actually practise. She sighed.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you what you want to hear" she answered Rothan "I'm not a real Wise Woman, I'm just studying to be one, but the fact that I know a little bit of your culture is that I've been traveling a lot and there were visitors to our camp, and since I like to speak to people I learned a lot"

In the corner of her eye she noticed Dralas approaching...with Morrie all set and clear, that was indeed a relief!

"Dralas! good you're here, I reckon we've got allour gear and we shuld be ready to leave"

Rianne went over to her friend and asked if she could have a hackle-lo

"I'll really need one" she muttered

Dralas

"We can share this one," he said, taking a breath of smoke before handing it to her. He noticed ordinators milling about, telling people to fall in line. It wouldn't be long before one came their way. Up ahead, the caravan was already on the move.

Dralas looked at Rianne, who was passing the hackle-lo back to him, and glanced back up to see a bonemold face staring at him.

"Finish gathering your things and start moving," the ordinator said in a raspy voice, "The journey to Ghostgate is not easy, but follow orders and we'll all get there alive."

Dralas nodded to the guard, took another puff, and gave the last of it to Rianne.

He stood with a sigh and grabbed Morrie's leash. No part of him wanted to resume the journey just yet. He was still tired from the first leg and stressed from the fight; their stay at the halfway camp had been less than restful. He wasn't the only one, he knew. Many caravaners were dragging their feet, while others could barely keep their eyes open. Not to mention that the majority of them were still terrified from the appearance of daedra.

There was no more stalling. The caravan moved, and they all went with it.

Rianne

Rianne finished the last of the hackle-lo, and thought about how to get more of that stuff, but there would be opportunities she thought.

Looking at her appearance she was a tad worried. The long thick shirt she had borrowed from Dralas was now pretty dirty and also stained with blood, but there was no time to think more about that, she was happy to even have a shirt!

So she started walking beside Dralas and Morrie...silently singing a tune

Her hand happened to touch Dralas' when they held Morrie's leash, Rianne took the opportunity to squeeze it very short, Dralas would understand...she looked at him and smiled...

Fastforward quickly to the forward construction site, aka ghostgate.

The caravan marched and marched, resting only when they could march no more. Perhaps in the hands of other men, the leaders would have realized that the chance of Daedric pursuit was slim and if it happened, not even the Ordinators and Armigers would be rested enough to provide stiff resistance. Yet the leadership was gripped by fear and at the edge of madness, and would hear no pleas for a calmer pace.

When the caravan arrived at the construction site, it was a sorry sight. While its numbers were far greater than expected and its arrival nearly a full two days ahead of schedule, exhaustion had reduced most travelers to a subdued mob whose only wish was to rest, and not rise from their slumber for days.


OOC: Ok, that's my forward post. Feel free to suggest alterations and stuff.

Dralas

Dralas lifted his weary eyes to finally see their destination. It was far from pretty, but it did offer the promise of rest soon to come, and that thought kept Dralas' feet moving.

Lines were formed (again) and they waited to be seen. Assignments and reassignments were made, and the Temple made sure that its goods were returned. He and Rianne stuck together as usual, and after a long time standing, his turn finally came.

"Name?"

"Dralas Lasamsi,"

"It says here you were entrusted with Temple supply sacks. Do you have them?"

"I do," he unstrapped the ties holding the sacks to Morrie. Two workers took them away while the clerk scribbled. Dralas gave a small sigh of relief, as there had been no notice of his small hackle-lo theft.

"Almost done here," he said, pausing for a moment to read, "It says here you signed on for construction, but your first choice of work was scouting, correct?"

Dralas nodded.

"Hmm...still no escort slots open, so I will assign you to a construction team," he flipped through a few more pages, "Alright, you will need to report to the eastern barracks. Normally, you would go tomorrow, but we got word that your caravan encountered some trouble, and since you're all early anyway, the decision was made to allow you all to rest. Be there at dawn, three days from now."

"So I'm done?"

"Just one more thing. You are worker number 4907. Remember this number, as you will need it when you come back here for your pay."

Rothan

While the rest of the caravan went to return temple supplies or to report to superiors Rothan was left feeling unneeded. The march had been tiring but he hadn't suffered nearly as much as the least fit and, anyway, felt restless. He decided to take a look around the construction site.

It nestled in a bowl in the hills gouged by the fires of the great crater in Red Mountain whose ash blown slopes dominated the view to the north. He shivered to think what lay within and was glad it was north and they would not have to lie in its shadow. The ground was ashy mainly but in places edges of twisted rock reached upward as if writhing, frozen in their agony. It was a bleak place for dark thoughts.

Only the deep foundations of the keep they were building which was to be the only portal through the fence had any look of permanence, the other structures were mainly glorified tents with the occasional larger structure hastily thrown together in cheap wood. He glanced back the way they'd come, a deep gouge in the landscape marked Foyada Mamaea with a few narrow paths climbing away from it up the mountains. A larger valley, though still dark and narrow, led towards Ald'ruhn, but it was off limits, too dangerous. On the other side the foyada continued toward the shrine of pride, why it was to be left within the ghostfence he couldn't imagine, but so it had been decreed.

Eventually he decided that, for appearances, he should go and see the head priest, though with the unexpected influx of people he wasn't sure who that was now. A pair of banners flapping listlessly on the breeze marked a long wooden building as a temple so he made his way north towards it.

Rianne

Rianne was close behind Dralas in the line. She nodded thoughfully when she heard he was assigned to construction instead of being an escort, which was his wish.

So finally it was her turn.

"Name?"

"Rianne de Z..., nevermind, just Rianne"

"Ok I need your full name, woman as it says here" the officiant answered grumpy

"Rianne de Zoete, and I have my temple supply sacks right here"

"hrmpff, you better have, it's your darn responsibility"

Rianne stood silent as the officiant resd the papers...

"you signed up for healing and alchemical sercvices I see here, but we haven't got a apothecary here yet so you'll have to join a construction team for the time being. i'll sing you up for the samt team as the other...ashlander!"

He spat that word out, obviously he wasn't very fond of ashlanders.

"If you think you can cope, it's hard work ya know, woman" he grinned evilly

Rianne didn't answer, her face totally numb. Not in thousand years she would admit his attitude and words hurt her.

"My working number please?" she asked calmly

"4908"

Rianne nodded and left the counter. Looking up Dralas.

"Looks as we're going to work together" she smiled

Haz

He wouldn't admit it to himself, but he was tired. However, no matter how great the fatigue in his bones was, there was no time to rest. As they'd reached the construction site, the attentiveness of their guards had fallen tremendously and the other travellers seemed to be either occupied with bureaucratics or their own exhaustion. He would never get a chance like this again. The time had come for Haz Andrethi to vanish, and the time had come for Has-no-tail to uneventfully lose himself among the slaves.

Still under the guise of a pilgrim, Haz walked over to the north side of the camp, where the shrine was located and more importantly, where few people wandered at the moment. The Argonian moved swiftly passed the actual shrine while the other pilgrims in the caravan were still dutifully waiting for their turn to hand over their equipment. As for him, most of his load had already been handed over to that trader and what he had left, he would never hand over to the Dark Elves. Any blow to the oppressors, no matter how small, was a victory in his mind.

Having ventured beyond the edge of the camp, he became more wary. The great number of guards posted at the northern perimeter had not gone unnoticed. They had to be there for a reason, even if their attentiveness regarding an unassuming pilgrim heading towards a small shrine had been rather lacking. If he encountered anything dangerous, like more ashlanders or more of those monsters from the half-way camp, he would have no choice to run.

"Best option would be to throw everything, clothes, possessions of Andrethi and supplies in a stream of molten lava. But I'll have to walk too far from the camp to find one. A fire's smoke would draw the attention of the guards, so I can't do that either. I guess I'll have to bury it deep beneath the ash. A poor choice, but no one should come to this particular place and the winds will blow away all trace of my footsteps. Then, I'll have to infiltrate the mass of brothers and sisters that are being used." He thought to himself and thrust his claws into the ground.
"I saw them working on the foundations of this ghostfence to the east. If I approach at nightfall, I should be able to bypass the guards. Even if they do notice me, why would they respond? I'm only a slave, after all."

Dralas

Rianne smiled at him, but Dralas could tell that the clerk had gotten under Rianne's skin a little.

"Couldn't have worked out better for us, could it?" he laughed a little bit, "That s'wit wanted us gone so bad he doesn't even know how much he helped us."

He was glad that he would be working with Rianne, but he was much more interested in the next few days of rest than the coming months of hard labor.

"Anyway, I'm hungry and tired. Looking to fix both problems."

Rothan

When he reached the makeshift Temple building Rothan discovered that it would be hard to report his arrival to the head priest, or to anyone else. The place was in uproar. He looked at the harried-looking clerks and red faced officials in confusion for a moment before cornering a junior secretary.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Go away," replied the young dunmer.

"I am a priest, just arrived. Who is in charge here?"

"Ha. Your guess is as good as mine. Serjo Salethrin was, at least officially, but now your caravan arrives attacked and nobody knows," he gestured to the chaos surrounding them, "Salethrin still claims the charge but the Ordinators are twisting his arm and the priest who headed the rest stop at Assarnatamat is technically his superior. In short only the Buoyant Armigers aren't claiming control of anything except themselves, not that the Ordinators agree."

"What of the foreman?"

"He leaves well enough alone, builds the thing and leaves the politicking to the others."

"Who do you think I should report to?"

The clerk snorted, "Might as well be the Armigers seeing as that would annoy everyone, but you want my advice? Wait for it to blow down a bit then report in a couple of days."

"Thanks," Rothan nodded. It sounded like the High Priest in Balmora had been right.

He made his way back outside and looked back down at the encampment. His stomach rumbled and the ache in his legs was building not he wasn't walking. He started down towards the area where most of the living tents were and where there was a scattering of food stalls.

Rianne

"Hungry, are you, Dralas?" she laughed , playfully patting him on his shoulder. "Well so am I and we'll need to remedy that first of all"

"I wonder...if it would be time to look up my "brother" Salyn...or maybe not yet, anyway there are some food stalls over there..and oh my that nice priest is heading our way...let's go there ok?"

Rianne glanced at her clothing, then at Dralas, they really needed to fix that as well. Working with construction is a craving job and they most certainly had to fix some more clothes otherwise....ewww

Anyway she was glad to work with Dralas...in fact he still was the only one she felt totally comfortable with...

"Come on, let's grab something to eat!"

Dralas

Dralas agreed and they approached the nearest stall. A young dunmer served the food to a long line, while an argonian slave worked over a large cauldron preparing more of the stuff.

While they stood in line, he waved to Rothan. They hadn't spoken to the priest since the departure, and Dralas wondered if he would have more insight into what was actually happening here.

"Next," the young dunmer said loudly, "Do you have a bowl?"

Dralas moved forward and shook his head in answer to the question. A small wooden bowl was put in his hands. It was warm, and the stew inside smelled of alit meat. Alit was not appetizing game, and what it lacked in taste it made up for in toughness.

At least it's filling. he told himself.

"Keep it," the server said, "If you don't have a bowl a week from now, you don't get served."

The hunter nodded and waited for Rianne to be served, standing in amazement at the substandard conditions they found themselves in. Bad food, scarce supplies, and terrible organization seemed to be the nature of things here. Not even a bowl could be spared.

Eno Arval

Eno's first act upon arrival was less than elegant. After presenting his Guar with its feeding bag and making sure it would get through the night in good health as well as making sure it couldn't run off, he merely fell flat on his back and lay there, staring at the sky.

The journey had been horrible for him, especially since his crippled leg had started to act up. As it was, he was barely capable of walking even with his staff and till the muscle cramp subsided, he decided he would just stay where he was and deal with the proper regulations, such as turning over supplies, later.
"ALMSIVI knows I'll be giving everybody else the time they need to reorganize. Adding to the chaos just won't do. Ah well, at least I saved some bread. I won't have to go anywhere till morning." He muttered to himself as he began working on a bit of bone he'd found next to the path earlier this morning. The attention his work demanded from him was a welcome distraction from the ache in his legs.

Rianne

Rianne observed how Dralas got his food...and the bowl with a grimace on her face. Conditions here was reall not so good, but she had no expectations so she decided to keep her low profile and just smiled kindly at the server when she got her bowl with alit-stew.

"Yuck, luckily I'm hungry enough not to throw this away" she whispered to Dralas, as she took a mouthul of the stew. "It's ok considering the options" she continued with a smile

"We need clothes...oh there's Rothan!" She waved at the priest

After finishing her meal she took out some hackle-lo

"Want some?" she asked Dralas

Rothan

Rothan took the ashlanders' waving as an invitation and, after getting a bowl of what in the past might have been ashyam, wandered over to join them.

"It's good to be here..." he looked around the blasted landscape, "Probably. Place is in turmoil though. How did signing up go for you?"

He wanted to hear as much as he could about what was going on for his report, whenever he was able to make it. Something just didn't feel quite right in the camp. He shook his head at his malaise and took a spoonful of the grey mush in his bowl. He grimaced - it was as vile as it looked.

Rianne

Rianne smiled at Rothan...

"Well it seems as we're going to do some hard work here...construction they said, but that's ok.hehe that rude officiant didn't think i would cope...but I'll just show him!"

I wonder...that leg of his really need some attention Rianne had noticed Eno slumping to the ground, obviously he was too tired to fulfill his registration, or was it merely his leg that hurt so much? Rianne's urge to help and heal made her worried about Eno.

"Maybe I should give him a hand? he looks just worn out" she asked Rothan "would he mind you think? some men are so proud that they just won't accept help...at least not from a woman."

Rothan

"He'd probably be okay with it once he realises you know your stuff," Rothan replied, "The attack before the ruin really shook him up though." He had no idea how Eno had fared after the main attack and felt guilty for not finding out. There was the pilgrim too, he had said he would lead him in prayer.

"Have either of you seen the pilgrim?"

Dralas

"The wound looks to be an old one," Dralas said, still speaking of the instrument maker, "I don't know if healing magicka would do much good."

"The pilgrim? The silent one, you mean? I haven't seen him since just after the daedra attack. It's easy to get lost with so many people around, though. I'll bet he's just trying to get settled in like the rest of us."

He took his first bite of the stew and held back a grimace. It was sustenance though, and he'd had worse.

"So Rothan," he asked after a particularly tough chew, "Do have any specific assignment here?"

Rothan

The question caught him off guard, he'd thought it was obvious, but then the obvious was untrue. He didn't buy either ashlanders' reason for being there either. There's all too much hidden here, he thought.

"I'm here as a chaplain," he said, "To help with the faith and minds of the workers and perform any duties required as a priest, but also just to see the site." Another half-truth, but should he reveal more? The ashlanders had no love of the temple, that included him, but equally it might meant they had no alliances in the camp. Probably. Yet.

The silence dragged, "I'm also," he said and paused again, "Keeping an eye out for the unusual. Things are chaotic, they shouldn't be. If you see anything out of place tell me, not anyone else, come to me first," was he being paranoid? Possibly but he hadn't liked the disorder in the temple, if there was a power struggle he wanted to report it before they had time to cover anything, "Now why are you here?"

Dralas

"I'm partly here for the work," he answered, choosing his next words carefully, "Partly here to take back what's mine."

He trusted us with a secret, so I may as well do the same. With his connections, I may actually find what I'm looking for...

There was still some danger to telling, though. Rothan was still in the employ of the Temple, and could likely have him locked up for trying to steal Temple property. Dralas took a breath, and gave Rianne a quick glance for support.

He finally began, "It is a known fact that the Tribunal are relying on the power of the ancestors to keep Red Mountain caged in. My family's tomb was raided, and generations were taken from their resting place, all in the name of this wall. Religious differences aside, I think you can see why I want my forefathers excluded."

Haz

The work had been done, Haz Andrethi was no more. Or rather, he had never existed. Has-no-tail stomped together the ash that now covered his former belongings. More ash would blow in to cover that soon enough and by morning at its latest, it would be as if no one had ever been to this place.

"Now then, it is time for the second part of the operation. To infiltrate this acursed place and tear it down, one way or another." He spoke softly to himself as he turned on back to the camp just beyond the hills. He was not going to pass by the shrine again, nor use the main gate. Instead, he hoped to slip in among the other slaves when they returned from their torment, exhausted by the brutality of the environment and the cruelty of their captors. The Argonian's hands yearned for a Dark Elven throat to crush as he looked upon the alien structure looming up from the ash.
"All built by us. All of it. By us who didn't want to. Us who had to. What 'right' do they claim to abuse others?" He growled.

But the hatred he felt at the moment was not like the one he usually felt, the burning coals that threatened to consume him in a raging fire. No, it was tempered somehow by a feeling of awe. He wanted to destroy that structure but at the same time, it was massive, ascending so high that its top disapeared within the deep gray clouds. It seemed more like the work of a god than a group of workers and an even larger group of slaves.
"Just what do they want with this? Is this all just a temple for the worship of their false gods? No temple of the Imperials is this...great. Not even the forts of the Legion compares."

Rothan

Dralas' words troubled Rothan. The mer had as good as said he was there to steal temple goods, but equally was he wrong to? Rothan paused, "I can guess where such things are kept," he said, "And unlike you I am in a position to confirm that guess without arousing much suspicion. But it's heresy and I won't. I should have you locked up, but neither will I do that. I suspect things may get interesting if the power struggle continues, I may need allies."

He took another mouthful of stew. He didn't notice the vile taste this time.

Dralas

Dralas did well to keep a level head. What did this priest know of heresy? Had the House dunmer forgotten so much about their heritage? Being made into a ghostfence was no laughing matter. As an act of sacrifice, one might ask that his relatives use a bone or two to power a fence after his death, but rarely the entire body. That was generally a fate reserved for those who were dishonorable in life.

But the priest wasn't going to put him away, and admitted to needing allies. Dralas knew from previous experience with Rothan that he had a good heart and a solid head on his shoulders, despite being a priest of the Tribunal Temple. Besides, he had saved Rianne's life back at the ruin, and that wasn't something Dralas would soon forget.

"Allies aren't free," he said, taking a moment to scrape up the last of his stew, "But friends are. I can tell that you are reluctant to help me, and I respect your reasons, just as I can see that you respect mine. Maybe in time, friend, we will better understand each other."

Rianne

Rianne listened to the conversation between Dralas and Rothan without interfering. She was a bit stunned that Dralas revealed his reasons to be here to the priest, she didn't think he would do such a thing.

She gave Dralas a sign by very lightly touch his shoulder, so he would know she was supporting him whatever would happen.

This stew really taste awful!!

"My reason to be here...really...is because my brother is here already and I'd like to be of some assistance to him. Besides I guess this place needs a healer.."

She smiled faintly and finished the last of her food with a shrug.

Then she took out some hackle-lo and rolled it thoroughly.

"Here!" she offered both Dralas and Rothan, before she lit her own

Erna

"Name."

"Holshin Verath," Erna lied, using the name shown on the form held by his murdered victim.

"You got your supplies?" the clerk asked. He sounded bored; clearly he'd gone through this routine dozens of times today.

"Right here," Erna said, tapping the sack strapped on his guar's back with a smile.

"Good, put them in the pile," the clerk said. "Says here you're assigned to construction, Serjo Verath. Your work number's 4045, alright?"

"Got you," Erna said. He did as he was told, removing the sack strapped to the back of his guar and placing it on the pile and taking the papers that the clerk handed back to him.

He took his guar outside, and decided on a course of action. First of all, destroy the papers he had for his murdered alias before word got from here to Balmora and use the ones he'd forged, and then he'd take a look around here. No point toppling a pillar if it wouldn't bring the building down, as one of those amateurs in the Mythic Dawn had once said.

And he had a damn big building to bring down.

Rothan

Rothan nodded to Dralas, "Perhaps we will. I am glad you call me friend, I think we will all be glad to have as many as we can."

He put aside his spoon closed his eyes and drank the rancid stew straight from the bowl as quickly as he could. When he'd recovered he turned to Rianne, "Your brother?", he inclined his head questioningly.

Rianne

Rianne looked at Rothan, trying to decide whether she would tell the truth or not. He just might find it odd that she had a brother among the buoyant Armigers...Even if it only was a foster-brother

"Well, yes, my brother, that is my foster brother is Salyn Sarethi, if he's known to you"

There! Ok, it was out....

He must wonder....

Dranas Heleran

It wasn't until nightfall that Dranas was finally able to settle in. There was the typical bureaucratic strife, of course--lines to be stood in, construction equipment to be checked in, bribes to be paid--and then there was work--setting up camp, feeding his guar, picking pockets, and most important of all, finding buyers.

That final process started when Dranas noticed one fellow struggling to light his hackle-lo. Closer inspection revealed the usual symptoms--bags under the eyes, a case of the shakes--and Dranas, of course, had the cure.

"You look like you've been working hard on this here project, serjo."

The mer jerked erect, startled, eyes darting about. But he essayed a shaky smile before replying, "Working us like slaves, they are. And the real slaves got it even worse. I'm alright though, just taking the edge off."

Dranas came closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "Aye, the hackle-lo is good for that. But sometimes it isn't enough, know what I mean?" He emphasized the point with a soft elbow to the ribs, then opened the palm of his hand to reveal a small brown vial. "You do know what I mean, right?"

The mer smiled, this time broadly. "Precisely, friend. Precisely."

It hadn't taken much longer to conclude that business, and drum up a little more. The Ghostgate was looking to be a profitable venture, Dranas thought as he made his way toward a group of diners. As he grew closer, he saw some familiar faces.

Rothan

Rothan hadn't heard of anyone by the name of Salyn Sarethi, but that alone told him Rianne's brother was not a priest or associated hanger on of the temple. He frowned, the name sounded Redoran, though of course might not have been, that, and that he had an ashlander sister excluded the Ordinators. A worker then? Or an Armiger. Rianne was a puzzle, that much was certain but he doubted it was one he would solve, and she seemed genuine, or at least not outright dangerous.

"If I can help let me know," he said.

He glanced over and saw Dranas looking carefully at the diners from the shadows beyond the fire and waved.

Dranas Heleran

Dranas saw the priest wave, and finally decided to amble up to the fire. Now that business was concluded he remembered that he was hungry and pulled a hunk of scrib jerky out of his satchel. He bit off a hunk and then sat down.

"Rothan, was it? What do you think of our camp here? Seems a touch chaotic." He neglected to add the rest of his thought to conversation. A little bit of chaos wasn't bad for his business, but the priest and the ashlanders didn't need to know that.

Haz

The Argonian had found temporary relief behind the very structure he had come to destroy. At the moment, all stray thoughts of wonder had been erased from his mind, leaving only the cold heart of a saboteur. Fortunately for him, instead of building a new section of wall, the work for today was apparantly the covering of the internal structure on a piece of wall whose framework had already been finished. If he leaned out beyond the edge of the wall, he could see the group of slaves at one or two stonesthrows away.

The slaves were made up of both both Argonians and Khajiit, along with a two or three of Orcish blood. Or at least he thought they were Orcish. They could have been unusually large and tailless Argonians. It was hard to make out the details in the encroaching darkness of the setting sun.
"But what Argonian would cut off his tail? One like me would do it, but I know that I am the only one of the pact that came here. Must be Orcs. If I could manipulate their temper towards the guards." He thought to himself as he directed his eyes to the guards that stood watch over the slaves.

They looked like Ordinators, judging by the armour, but they were not as well equiped as he'd expected. They wore a simple scarf instead of their helmets, and there were no shields either.
"Then again, they do spend all day watching unarmed slaves. Comfort is a bigger priority than being prepared for a hostile and fictional army. All day watching. I'll have to slip in when the slaves are between two groups of observers. These here will be able to know something is wrong as soon as they count one head too many."

As he continued his silent observation, he noticed that the guards were discussing amongst themselves, along with pointing at the crimson glow over the horizon. Realizing that they were preparing to finish up, Haz prepared to move. Just then, he senses movement from the direction of the main camp. Another group of guards were marching towards the one he'd had his eyes on. These at least were wearing their helmets, as well as freshly lit torches.
"They're going to make the slaves work till deep in the night?" Haz whispered to himself, feeling his anger rise. But at the same time, he realized this was an opportunity. The first group of guards would pay no attention to the slaves as soon as they were relieved. The new group did not know the numbers and even if they did, they were sooner to see it as an administrative error than a threat. If anything, he bet they would be happy with one slave more.

When both groups of guards were facing each other, going through whatever ritual they had for the changing of the guards, Haz dashed in from the shadows and got in among the slaves. He could feel a few eyes on him, but he hushed all comments with a quick gesture of his hand. He did not know if he'd been understood or if they simply didn't dare talk with the guards near, but not a word was said.
"Infiltration complete. Now let's see. I need to grab this shell, trail glue around its edges and press it against the wall? That's what everyone else is doing. I'd better do the same."

Rothan

"Yes," replied Rothan, "Things aren't as organised as they should be, I couldn't even report in. I'll give it a couple of days for things to calm down. How was registering for you?"

He paused to watch a pair of pilgrims pass on the main track through the camp, "And have you seen anything of the pilgrim whose guar died? I've not spoken to him since the ruin."

Dranas Heleran

"Registering wasn't too bad, I suppose," Dranas said, "but then I've seen about the worst that bureaucracy has to offer, trading all over mundus like I have."

He paused to bite off another hunk of jerky.

"Funny you should mention that pilgrim. I dropped off some of that Temple gear he'd been hauling"--Dranas neglected to mention that he only did so after pilfering some material away, blaming the loss on one 'Haz Andrethi'--"but never did see him in line. 'Course, I'll admit to being busy. 'Always be closing', as they say on the Gold Coast. So maybe he ended up at the back of the line and I just didn't see him. He's probably around here somewhere."

Rothan

With his belly filled, even if it was with awful stew, Rothan realised how tired he was. He could probably have taken a bed in the temple's own housing, had he registered, but he hadn't. The night was clear enough and there wasn't enough wind to stir the ash much so he decided he'd sleep under the stars. He nodded goodnight to the others at the fire and wandered briefly through the ramshackle dwellings until he found a sheltered corner by a shed full of construction materials and lay down on his bedroll. In moments he was asleep.

The sun was late in breasting the tops of the mountains which flanked the foyada and it wasn't until it's rays touched his face that Rothan woke. He stood and stretched the knots from his muscles and looked around the camp. Many labourers were already finishing their breakfasts and heading off but others were also just waking. Must be whatever shift system they have, he thought, I must find out about it.

He had a quick wash then headed back to where he'd eaten the night before, though not to the same stall, and got himself some kwama eggs which had seen better days but weren't too foul. He stood and ate and thought about what he should do that day.

Dralas

Dralas began his typical morning routine with the burning of hackle-lo. He sat a good distance from the camp, watching people mill around. There were hundreds of bedrolls scattered around the food stalls, all from the same caravan, no doubt. Dralas figured he wasn't the only one without bedding until two more days passed and he reported to the workers' barracks. The caravan had three days of rest, sure, just no real place to sleep.

Luckily, Dralas had a lifetime of wilderness experience, and was no foreigner to sleeping outside. He had found a small nook between two boulders outside of the camp, and it provided just enough cover for a few hours of rest. Unfortunately, the night had plagued him with strange dreams, and he didn't feel very rested. Dralas had always been very sensitive to the presence of spirits, and they refused to let him be while sleeping. He ran his hand through his matted hair until he found one particular bead that was woven in. He carefully pulled it out and examined it.

It was his father's knuckle, fashioned into a bead and given to him by his mother as a charm. Just by holding it in his hand, he could tell that it was at least partly responsible for his dreams.

I guess I won't rest until you do. Well be patient, spirits, because there is a lot of work left for me to do.

Eno Arval

Eno was still sore all over when he woke up next morning. Still, he had to admit to himself that he felt more rested and healthier than he had been for days. He was somewhat surprised at that.
"Well but then again, this is the first time in a while that I don't need to run along with a bunch of able-legged youngsters. It makes sense if I look at things from this perspective." He muttered to himself while he attached the feeding-bag to his Guar's mouth. As he joined the beast in breakfast, he let his eyes wander over the camp. The qeue at the administrative complex was shorter now, and more relaxed.

"I should be able to register in a bit. Then I'm finally done with this whole endeavour. I'll take the first caravan home as soon as it leaves. Shouldn't take too long now that there are more people. Someone needs to be kept informed in the big cities after all. I should so look into procuring some locally cooked meals. Aside from the fact that hard traveller's rations get rather tiresome, I will run out of them far too fast if I restrict my diet to them."