Nathan realized the battle was finished. All of the survivors were clearly not allied with the woman he'd struck down. A rather well armed man wearing a golden mask seemed to approve of his kill. The Redguard allowed his shield to fade and knelt beside the mage. He wiped the woman's blood from his axe upon her robes.

His amulet was quiet again; Nathan slipped it back under his clothing before searching the bag the mage had been carrying.

Aerona finally opened her eyes again to see that the fight was over. She allowed herself to relax a bit before rising to her feet. Her Nord helper, who called himself Gillyed, requested a needle and thread, and she began digging into her knapsack.

"Even behemoths aren't immune to arrows," she said, still rummaging through her bag, "Sit and I can patch that up."

She produced a needle and thread finally, along with a small jar of leafy green paste.

The Redguard was still in the distance, searching the dead mage, and Cyldreen was nearby. They both seemed to have come from the battle unharmed. She wasn't so sure about Gillyed's idea of becoming legends, but judging from this fight, it seemed they were all either very talented or very lucky.

"Where is the argonian?" she suddenly asked.

Silence. no more sounds of war were above. did they win?I hope the aspirant who stole my bow got what he deserved! Falius thought angrily, before calming down.

Even if they did survive, they dont know im even stuck down here! what if they ride off to bruma, expecting me there and instead a worm thrall me is there!

dont go now guys! Please, Kynareth, help one of your forest children! He prayed, desperately.

Aren had been recruited to the same task as the other adventurers and had been following the group, driving his 'confiscated' horse as fast as it could go in order to catch up with them. Normally he wouldn't do this sort of suicidal mission, but the reward he had been promised was worth it.

When he finally reached the group he realized that they had already fought off the attack on the caravan to great success, looking around he could see a Breton and a Nord and a Dunmer, the latter with a needle in hand.

"Greetings, I am Aren and I have been hired to help you on this suicidal quest". Dismounting he offered a gauntleted hand towards the Dunmer who was closest, "May I have your name"?

Aerona had been about to begin sewing Gillyed's shoulder when she froze. There was a rider in the distance, galloping full speed towards them. Friend or foe, she couldn't tell, but the rider looked fearsome.

"This might not be over yet," she said to her companions.

She ran spells through her head as he approached, doing her best to be ready should things go sour. When he finally announced his intentions, she sighed heavily with relief.

A bit more relaxed now, Aerona could tell that this dunmer was old. It wasn't something human eyes could always pick up, but she could see it in her own kind. There was an age of experience in those eyes. He introduced himself as Aren, and extended his hand.

"My name is Aerona," she answered, bowing deeply in deference to his age. She knew little of dunmer culture, having grown up among Imperials, but she knew enough to respect her elders.

Aren watched as the young Dunmer bowed to him, while he appreciated the gesture he had long since lost the belief that formalities were anything other than unneccesary.

"A pleasure miss, but there is no need to stand on ceremony, not for my old bones at least", he paused to take a sip of water before returning his attention on Aerona.

"My employer was a bit lacking when it came to our job other than to defeat these accursed vermin, would one of you advise me on our next piece of action?"

Nathan spread the bag's contents across the ground, ignoring the group behind him. The Redguard scrutinized a small tome written Deadric runes. He read the introduction before tossing it aside, a common conjuration manual. As Nathan inspected the remainder he found a map of the surrounding countryside with scribbled annotations and markings, and a half dozen bottles of restore magicka potions.

No soul gems, He frowned. The conversation behind him continued distantly as he mulled it over. The mage was definitely a necromancer, if only a novice. Nathan glanced around at the bodies, noticing the shadow knights for the first time. Three of them couldn't be assigned to babysit one necromancer in the wilderness. There has the be a master nearby.
The Redguard wandered over to the headless Altmer knight. If there was evidence of a larger group in the area, it would be on one of the higher ranking members. Unless they destroy their orders like good little minions...

Where once was the frightful clamor of battle reigned now only silence. How long the fight had lasted, or how long it had been since it ended, Swift-like-Fish could not tell. Neither had he any idea of who the victor was, or how complete victory had been. He simply did as he had planned and remained in wait. He waited, till the sound of a faroff galloping caught his ears.

The Argonian took even shallower breaths than before. Who was this rider that approached? Was it a new enemy, come to support the ones already at the fort? Was it merely a random traveller, as a surprising coincidence? Or perhaps, it was a guardsman on patrol.
"No guardsman. Haven't seen any in weeks and even if there would be one out here today, he would not travel alone. Not with how the land has been. Not when a mere fisherman is given the task of freeing a city. Granted, the fisherman did not go alone, but a fisherman remains a fisherman. No, guards do not dare venture in these lands today." He thought to himself.

Swift-like-Fish wondered how he should react to this while the galloping hooves drew ever nearer. His own horses were quiet enough, content to merely graze from the grass and bushes around them. The entrance was hard to discover for anyone who did not know what signs to look for. Even if he abandoned the horses and wagon now, odds were quite good they would remain safe till he returned. If he returned.

"Let the rider pass, then follow. This one knows where the fort is and if this one crawls, approach without leaving the dense vegetation should be possible. If the rider stops at the fort, this one will see. If the rider moves on, this one will check on Dunmer's and metalskinned's fate and decide what to do afterward." The Argonian concluded and put his plan into motion. As of this point, the rider had not yet reached the entrance to the clearing, much less the fort. But with the difference between the speed of a galloping horse and a crawling Argonian trying very hard not the be heard, seen or smelled, starting his journey early would not be a problem.

Not long after, he heard the horse pass by and stop at the fort. Now the fisherman's senses were on full alert as he continued his approach. Getting close to where the dense undergrowth met a surviving wall however, he could hear that a conversation had began. He couldn't recognize the distorted voices, but he could make out fragments of conversation. Including an introduction involving a name he did remember. Aerona.
"So she is alive and going by context, neither captured nor harmed. Then the rider is, a friend?" Swift thought, having now reached the wall. If he stood on his toes, he would just be able to grip the wall's ledge. Still somewhat cautious not to make any noise, he did so and lifted himself up to take an hopefully unobserved look at the situation. Aerona was indeed alright, as was Cyldreen. There were also strangers, more than just the rider.
"Well, one or two of these must be the ones who began the battle we responded to in the first place. Still, all seem friendly enough. This one shall introduce himself and learn what to do next." He hissed to himself. Then, with a grunt, he hoisted himself up onto the wall and dropped off on the other side.

"This one is pleased to see his friends well and extends greetings to those not yet known." He said while plucking the mass of errant leaves, twigs, mud and a lonely earthworm that had collected onto him.

OOC: How can you recognize a Breton hidden by a mask??

I don't know if somebody is playing with us or just plain coincedence -neither do I care- but it seems that Lady Fate is smiling on us. Our numbers is growing. . . Hope shines on us and our impossible quest, then.

Cyldreen vanished those thoughts as he narrowed his eyes at the Dunmer. He sensed his arrival and he quickly reached for his halberd, but when he identified himself as an ally Cyldreen went calm. He was decked in a suit of Nordic chainmail and his weapons made the Breton scoff in spite of his awe. A scimitar and longsword made from rare ebony, a spear and a bow. When he said his name was Aren, he immediately recognized him as a famed Bounty Hunter.

His deeds reached even Nova Orsinium itself.

And then there was the Argonian. He emerged from a wall and sent his goodwill to the rest of them. Cyldreen sent a nod to him and turned his attention back to the Dunmer.

"Well, well. If I knew that I was going to meet the famed Aren Syrethi himself; I would've surely laughed at the thought. But now strange things have happened and I suppose that the impossible becomes the posibble. Well met, serjo, it is good to have your sword with us."

There are so many of us now, she thought, All these people united in such a short time.

She tapped her foot a bit impatiently, and her eyes wandered. The redguard had the right idead; wandering from corpse to corpse, looking for clues while the all made small talk. She still did her best not to stare at the bodies too long, but she knew that it was something she might have to get used to.

"You know," she said to nobody in particular, "All of these aspirants could provide our disguises to get into Bruma."

She tried to point but there was a needle and spool of thread in her hand, "Gillyed, would you sit down?"

Gillyed had been busy checking over his equipment, he hadn't heard of this new Dunmer and frankly he wasn't sure if he trusted him. It all seemed far too convenient from his point of view. The man rides up right after the battle, covered in arms and armor, and suddenly everyones chummy. Something just grated with the big Nord but he kept it to himself.

"Alright then, sew away friend" he grunted, sitting down and bracing himself for the needle. "We could use those suits, but something tells me you won't find one in my size, and a mismatched set probably wouldn't get me past the guards."

Gillyed paused for a moment to think. "However, I might have a way to sneak in if there are people on the inside. The walls around the city are tall, but with a bit of magical cover and a rope someone on the inside could help me climb in"

OOC: Dunno, I've got a hard enough time telling the human races apart as it is...I think I tend to refer to Cyldreen by his mask though.

"You know, all of these aspirants could provide our disguises to get into Bruma." The woman spoke true words, even if the idea of taking clothing from hacked up corpses was less than apetizing.
"Indeed they wear the black garb that may be useful. Spare some of your thread. The disguises may require fixing and cleaning." He said. The smell of blood did not disturb him in the slightest, for it was one he was accustomed to. The knowledge that said blood belonged to people like him, did.
"Lots of cleaning." He therefore added after a moment.

He had no real idea what else to say, so he began to randomly sniff around the battlefield instead. His hands picked up random objects and dropped them just as readily, a pebble here, bit of leather there, a small bag of coin which he kept, a half-eaten and now cold bit of meat on a stick, an arrow sticking out of the ground. The Argonian stopped and looked at the arrow he held. It looked familiar, very familiar.
"Excuse this one for asking, but does anyone recognize this arrow? This one is not sure, but it looks like the one our impatient hunter was handling in the council room." He asked, hoping that the answer would be a resounding no. The arrow definitely looked like one of Falius', but the council room had been a dark place and a fisherman was not an expert regarding arrows. If it was one of his, that could only mean bad news.

Aren gave a small nod to his fellow Dunmer. "That is probably the best chance we're going to get, but there is still the fact that when we launch our attack we will be compromised...once inside I could provide a distraction, faced worse odds before and I've got the scars to prove it...won't be able to hold 'em off forever though, at least not alone".

With a pensive look on his face he turned towards the Nord. "You look like an able man, if you'd like to I would welcome the help if we decide to create a distraction once we're inside the city".

Aerona spread a bit of her green paste on the wound before she carefully sewed the gash on Gillyed's shoulder. She stopped for a moment. Aren said something about their plan to invade Bruma, but her attention was on the arrow in Swift's hand.

"Not that I particularly paid attention to his arrows, but yes, they could be his. Either Falius escaped them, or..." she glanced around nervously, "...there are more of them."

She refocused on her patient, then, not letting the idea get the best of her, "We should try to find him, though."

Nathan

The Redguard spat upon the last knight in frustration. It seemed they had been unusually competant, nothing relevant was on their corpses. Nathan paced about, then stopped suddenly. Why is my heart racing? The amulet had begun to pulse again, weakly.

He glanced around, realizing he'd walked partway back towards the ruins. Nathan held the shard out at arms length, studying it's movements as he strode the perimeter. By the time he returned to the gathering, a cold pit had formed in his gut.
For the first time, the Redguard appraised the people nearby. It had been years since he'd been in such diverse company. Perhaps he could throw in with them; with difficulty, he approached the masked man and cleared his throat. "I don't think today's work is over yet." The black soul gem shard swung in a non-existant breeze from his left hand with a flickering violet glow.

The Argonian said something about Falius' arrow. Cyldreen shot a glance at the fletching and it rang a bell. He hoped that the Bosmer was not dead.

He then noticed the Redguard approaching him, a little reluctance showed in his eyes. He cleared his throat and the breton faced him with a smile, although it was hidden by the mask.

"I don't think today's work is over yet," he said and as if on cue, the amulet he wore glowed and swung in a magical breeze. A non-existent brow raised.

"Yes. It seems sloppy for the wretched Enemy to camp outside a fort and not inhabit the inside." For good measure, he cast a spell that allowed him detect life signs. Magicka enveloped his vision and he gazed at the Fort.

There were many of them and they were scrambling to and fro, tightening their defences. He simply harrumphed.

"I am Cyldreen, and it is good to see a friendly face in these dark times." He then walked towards the others, gesturing the Redguard to follow him.

With a voice that he used to manipulate minor dukes and ladies and backed by his serpentine mind, he said;

"Do not plan for the future when the present is our current problem. Many kings made the same mistake and resulted in their downfall. No doubt you are weary and long for a rest. Regrettably, we must push onward. The Fort houses the bulk of this area's garrison and believe me when I say that they are many."

He let that sink in for a few seconds.

"Brute strength and cunning minds we shall use in this situation. Someone with the patience of hiding must find a way to enter the Fort without gaining unwanted attention. The rest of us must storm the front gate to buy that certain someone some time.

First things first. We must find a backdoor entrance, one that the enemy does not know about."

Cyldreen was either a born leader, or he simply felt that someone had to take charge for the moment and he would be as good a choice as any. Regardless, what the masked man said made at once sense, and at the same time it didn't. That there were more inside the ruins belowground was a reasonable assumption and Swift-like-Fish berated himself for not realizing that himself. After all, with the rainy climate of Cyrodill, few would camp outside if they had a choice in the matter, something that had escaped him before as he personally had no problems with either water from a pool or water from the sky. Further evidence was all around.

The shoddy benches and state of the campfire revealed that there had been plenty of activity for these last few days and that the dead hadn't just stopped here for a short rest. Yet there were no tents or other signs that people had actually slept here. Ergo, there was more of the camp in a place with a ceiling and the interior of the fort was the only nearby location that fit the bill.

As for Cyldreen's suggestion of storming the gate however while someone else found a backdoor, that made less sense. The masked man himself had implied that they would be outnumbered in such a fight and the Argonian saw no reason why they couldn't just make themselves scarce while they had the chance. Except for the possibility of Falius being a captive.

He weighed the arrow in his hand. If the Bosmer hadn't ran off, then the choice would be easy. But even with the current situation, Swift couldn't run away with an easy conscience. Cyldreen seemed confident enough, so perhaps he should just put his trust in the man.

"A backdoor forts always have, a way of getting out unseen. This one is a ruin though, and if the backdoor still exists, it will be guarded. An unknown backdoor is unlikely, except for one that is no door at all." He said slowly, saying the words as he followed his one line of reasoning.
"The ground we stand on is wet, very wet. There is a lake nearby, no? If the interior is belowground, it would be dry, unless the walls have cracked. You say there are men inside, so the fort is not flooded. But forts must withstand a siege for a long time. THey will have a well. To ensure clean and ample water, the well will go deep, with a direct connection, a tunnel to the lake."

"If a tunnel to a well exists, this one can find it. If it exists, this one can enter the fort. However, what should this one do once inside? This one is no hunter of men."

Gillyed was perplexed by what was happening, suddenly they were about to storm a fort, a fort, filled with hostile men and women, most likely well trained and better equipped, while a second man attempted to secretly sneak in, alone, for...no real reason.

"Hold on a minute" Gillyed growled. "What you're suggesting makes very little sense at the moment. Storming a fort is suicide. The front gate is made to be defended, and our small group cannot take on a garrison. We've got skill or arms, but not that much. Stealth will better suit us here."

He stood up, gently rolling his shoulder to test the stitches, before nodding a thank you at the priestess who had helped. "Could I propose a solution? Obviously we've got means of detection. If we've got an objective inside the fort, then we need to focus on that and not take on anything more than we need too. If our Argonian friend here can make his way inside unseen, it'd be better for him to help us in through a side passage, and from there we have to make our way through, with as little commotion as possible. I suggest that the most silent of us takes point, and we neutralise any guards we encounter quietly, or we'll bring the whole place down on us."

OOC: Bloodlust is difficult to restrain and in Cyldreen's case, its almost impossible! He's getting more of a luggage than help, eh?

He was getting impatient by the passing seconds. If the others were so keen about going by the shadows, fine. They could be that way and miss out on the image of blood splattering the floor, limbs flying with red wings, cries of the damned forever echoing and their eyes showing fear as Cyldreen hacked them to pieces... He relished at the idea and his eyes took a distant gleam.

To just pass that chance, chance to unleash their inner demons and wreak havoc on the battlefield like gods among mortals.. It was pure madness in Cyldreen's mind. On the other hand, his spy instinct berated him and told the breton that the others were right. Two distinct personalities battled for control, for decision. Cold air passed from the West and with it, the bloodthirst was temporarily sated by reason.

"Fine," he growled back at the Nord. "But if we encounter the first guards, they're life is mine for the taking."

Aerona put her sewing tools away and listened. Cyldreen wanted a fight, while the others wanted to avoid it. She agreed with the stealth approach, but was unsure of how easily it could be achieved. Those inside the fort had to be aware of their ragtag band of fighters, and she wasn't very sure of where she would fit into either plan.

"Only a few of us should go inside," she finally said, "The others should find a rendezvous point away from here and wait. That way if one of us dies, or those inside fail, Nine forbid, our mission continues."

"If Swift can find that tunnel, I can go inside with him. I can breathe underwater with spells, and keep us booth unseen. There just isn't much I can do if it comes to blows."

Aren nodded to Arona's words. "A sound advice girl, but if you do get discovered both of you are gonna end up dead quick...you need someone with you who can fight and I can certainly do that...quietly too I might add and I have the potions needed for underwater travel".

He leant back against a tree and crossed his arms over his chest. "Your descision of course".

Swift-like-Fish shrugged.
"Those who wish to come, come. This one has no problems with this, as long as the numbers don't grow so large that an unwished for retreat becomes impossible. Three can overcome more obstacles than one. For instance, if the well is covered with a grate, then this one may need help in removing it. Fire to melt the iron, or strong arms to help shift it. In any case, speaking of plans here is perhaps not the best course of action. Now the hostile ones are hiding within their lair, but they may choose to come out and attack at any moment. This one would rather not be here if such an event came to pass." He said, nodding to both Aerona and Aren.

"This one will be down by the water. Prepare swiftly, then come." He added and hurried away to where he felt the ground was most wet, lower and as such, closer to the lake.

Gillyed agreed with the group. "3 sounds like a good number to me, you've got your way in, your defence, and general help. I'm far too big to sneak around, and in a fight those close quarters will not do me well. Not even mentioning it might break these stitches so early."

He paused for a moment and pushed himself to his feet, looking around the area they had stopped. "We need to agree on an area not too far away, easily defendable incase you are chased, but with an escape route if we need one. Also it's just a little bit corpsey here."

Aerona unfolded a piece of parchment pulled from her bag, "Take the road north. There is a loop in the road here," she said, pointing to the place on the map, "There is an old Ayleid well along that loop; we can meet you there. Oh, and if someone could carry my things to the wagon, I would be grateful."

She left the map in Gillyed's hands, and began securing her belongings. It would make no sense to bring any of it. It would ruin her equipment and ingredients, not to mention weigh her down underwater. A glance towards the lake told her that Swift was heading into the water. There were a few more moments before he found the tunnel, if it even existed.

She took a deep breath, "Stay safe, everyone, and wish us luck. Shall we go, Ser Aren?"

"Somebody said that the corpses of our friends, can be used here right?" Cyldreen mused, to himself rather than others. "If maybe those who sneak in can wear those, the chances of sneaking in may improve by a small percent. The aspirants' uniforms are uniform black; one could easily detect what I'm implying here.

And if one DOES get caught, one will just have some scolding rather than death," he then looked at the others.

"Do you know what I mean?"

At the lake's edge, the Argonian lowered himself gently into the water. For a moment, he wondered if he should wait for the two Dunmer to join him but then decided not to. They had both claimed to have some means of breathing underwater but neither had told him for how long they could do so. Without knowing how long the search for an entrance, if there indeed was one, would take, it would be best to start looking while they prepared. There was no need to tax their reserves.

"The water is quite clear. Good, that makes the search easier." He thought as he dove for the bottom of the lake. Again he went over his own line of reasoning. It seemed sound to him, though he also realized that he was not the most knowledgeable person regarding fortifications.
"Don't ask the siegemaster to fish, don't ask the fisherman to design a fort. Nevertheless, the rules of minimum effort and maximum results still apply. The entrance should be nearest to the fort as possible, to reduce the length of tunnel and such the possible points of collapse. It also should be deep and due to erosion, it will no longer be right at the edge. The entrance should be hidden to avert the eyes of hunters...but."

With a quick sweep of his tail, the Argonian brought himself to a halt. There, were the gentle descent of lakeside ceased, he'd spotted a small inlet in the lake's edge. Now those were nothing unusual for a lake like this, often the result from erosion and plantgrowth. This one however, was just too regular to be natural. The weeds growing from the sand were also clustered thicker here than anywhere else. Swift-like-Fish moved in for a closer look. He pushed the swaying weeds aside and proceeded further into the thick growth till the light of the sun above him made place for the shadow cast by a stone ceiling. He had found the entrance.

Swift-like-Fish returned to where he'd started out and returned to the surface. He would wait with following the tunnel till he'd been joined by Aerona and Aren.

"The Temple put me to work studying the Order when I was in Bravil," Aerona said, "As I understand it, aspirants live to die. They are the fodder of the upper ranks. Very few of them move up, and only do so by killing each other. These clothes lying around may get us past a town gate, but I'd venture to say that they'd sooner kill us than scold us. Disguises couldn't hurt, I suppose, but I suspect wet clothing would only weigh us down."

She looked towards the lake, and saw Swift emerging from it. There was a look on his reptilian face that told her that he'd found something.

Looking to Aren, she spoke once more, "We don't have much time. If you think we should wear them, then we will. I leave it up to you."

Aren looked down at the black robes of their dead enemies with disgust.

"As much as I'd like to leaver these rags behind we may need 'em, up close we'll be spotted, but from a distance we'll look like the rest of those filthy bastards...and I can get 'em before they get close enough to identify us", he said while calmly stroking his bow.

Grabbing one of the robes he slipped it over his armoured form, but not before he removed his spear and schimitar, "I'd appreciate if someone could keep an eye on these for me, there won't be need for 'em in there".

Looking over at swift who had returned he let out a small grin. "Please tell me you found something".

Swift-like-Fish nodded.
"There was indeed an underwater path, obviously made by hands and not time. This one thinks it was well hidden against the eyes of a soldier, but to those familiar with the land, its disguise was an unnatural one. This one has not yet followed the path, but could see no obstructions from the entrance and is certain it will lead to our destination. Are you ready to follow?"

"Lead the way Swift, once inside Aerona could take lead as I suspect that she knows a detect life spell...jus' be sure to tell me where the enemy is".

Opening his bow and making sure the bolts were properly secured he revealed a nasty grin. "I'll make sure we won't see any trouble", loosening an arrow to demonstrate, he nodded in appreciation as it penetrated a small tree only to get stuck in a larger tree behind.

((Bah, sorry for being so late with this reply, uni works really caught up with me this month and likely will next month, so I may be a bit infrequent.))

Gillyed checked over the map, he'd heard of Ayleid wells, ways to restore the magicka of the user, but had never encountered one up close. He just hoped there was suitable shelter nearby to hide the wagon and their belongings.

"Remember to signal to us that it is indeed you when you return, if you're still wearing the uniforms we might mistake you." Gillyed warned as he began to pick up what he could carry. "We'll hide the wagon just off the road and take up positions around the well itself, if you are chased we'll use it to help escape. But if we can lets avoid more trouble. Good luck, may you speak free always"

Gillyed turned to the rest of the group, being given the map had given him a sense of importance, though he knew it was just because he was closest.

"Lets gather what we can and head out, the guards will be less suspicious when we move away and the rest will have a better chance."

Undorsil


Who goes by the name of Ar'Kay is a false idol for those who wish for false hope. Surrender yourself in the pleasures of flower-rot and the corpselight, and begin your path to Trandescence.

Burned like the Ur of the Mountain, inside each of us is the potential to be bathed in His glorious Flame. Steal the knowledge of the Fruit and steel yourself, Worm-Friend, for the hour when He descends is nigh
.
Death comes after Life. And Life comes before Death. Between the two Cycles, the undisturbed Pariah is sleeping with the Secrets of Knowledge, and to wake him demands the weak-willed be layed before him in chains and in stones. The blood of a Hypocrite must be spilled on his Altar in the Church of Mourning, and the Black Candles of Lamentations must be lit with the souls of the Everchanging Dregs of Oblivion. Master this and you shall seat in unrivaled Authority beside the Godking of Worms in His Paradise of Naught.

Starlight is the most precious and secretive ways of the Black Arts. Only those who serve Him are given the wisdom to manipulate the Divine Illumination to create the Stones of Sustenance. And so it is written that when the Trap is set into place, the Hunter must become the Hunted and the Living be made into the Restless Sleepers.

Deny the false and dominate the weak, Worm-Brother. For there is nothing in this world which can stop The March. Freedom from the shackles of Life is the song It sings, and Eternal Slavery from the False is It's dread warning.



Curses, evil, sorrow, wrongness... This grimoire said to be written by the High Priest of Maggots himself radiated a negative energy to those who are within a certain radius. Weakened and the heed of sleep they shall experience, and verily so. For this is the Book of Amurel, a grimoire to make one an Etherial One, a being of power overwhelming. Undorsil had been searching for this when Mannimarco joined the King of Worms, and thus the dark satisfaction he felt was beyond normal comprehension.

He had been studying It for days on end, never sleeping and never resting. His undivided attention, a rare occurence verily, was on this Relic the High Priest left for the Faithful.

Yes.. The power that emanates from This is great indeed! Satisfying shall be the reward I will have and all will bow before me! Even that fool, Gulas!

Such thoughts of hatred and usurping gave the Altmer an invigorating energy to continue on and continue his black studies he did. For hours he toiled and wrestled against exhaustion and many times did he alsmot falter, but the iron will of someone killing the land, poisoning it and vending itself to his will, rose victorious.

"The soul of a dreg of Oblivion and the blood of a Hypocrite," he murmured to himself. "A soul of a daedra and a blood of worshipper then."

He Recalled and was at the courtyard of Castle Bruma in seconds. Where he inducted his secret ritual, all did not know save for himself and he preferred to keep it that way. Undorsil walked the ruined streets of Bruma, ignoring the aspirants gaping and glaring at him.
Such insects would have to crushed for their insolence, he thought, later. For now, he had a meeting with the scouts he sent to supervise and observe the last bastion in Cyrodiil.

It didn't take long, for the ruined church of Talos was ripe with incesstant screaming. When he entered, all fell silent when they saw his terrible countenance.

"News," his voice was gravelly and deep like that of a high king, but the hurried whisperings and echoes of voices that followed his voice was something to be awed indeed. For the whispers and echoes was the voices of those Undorsil consumed.

A scout raised his hand, Undorsil gestured him to continue with a curled lip and disgusted eyes.

"A s-scouting party, Casofa's group, was found d-dead, milord. Most of them. No one knows who did it, but they were b-brutally ef-f-ffective. One survived but he died days ago. He s-said that a golden faced mon-monster they were following spotted them and promptly ... slaughtered them."

Undorsil was unconcerned.

"Next," he said.

"Milord, we just got word from the Vampire that he captured a Bosmer. He is waiting for orders on what do with the elf." The second scout/messenger gulped and waited for Undorsil to reply.

"I do not care. And I shall warn you that I wish for sensible reports next time, lest you want your head on top of a pike, your flesh being sport for the dirty slaves. Is that clear?"

All fell silent once again and all nodded their heads, for when anger claims Undosril none can restrain him. Even the land itself. He snarled and awaited the next report.

"Milord Undorsil the Terrible," a scout said and promptly kneeled before him. "We have spotted a squad of ... warriors leaving the Imperial City. One of them matches the desciption of 'golden-faced monstrosity'. The others are a Dunmer and Argonian. They are headed towards Fort Nikel, where the Vampire dwelt.. We eagerly await your wise words, milord."

Undorsil thought about it. It didn't take long for him to decide his mind.

"I do not care."

OOC: I'm just going to assume that you Aren and Aerona follow him underwater. Saves me having to stop and wait for everyone to respond. I hope nobody minds.

Swift-like-Fish nodded.
"Very well. This one will not wear the black garb though. Clothes when wet have always been more of a hinder than this one can handle. This one will just hide behind your backs once inside. Now please follow. This one shall lead you to the fort."

The argonian paddled in place till the two Dunmer had joined him in the water before diving straight towards the entrance, making sure to maintain a pace his allies could follow. Passed the weeds they went and into the tunnel where the Fisherman slowed down further and instead of swimming, pulled himself along through protruding rocks and other handholds in the tunnel's walls. Making a commotion by disturbing the water surface of the well was not something he planned on doing.

"56...57...58...59 lengths. Should be under the ruins now. 64...65...Ah, here it ends." The Argonian finally came to a full stop when he saw the tunnel emerge into a cylindrical structure made of bricks. It looked like they'd reached the well. Cautiously, he poked his head out of the opening and looked up. No one was using the well or looking down at him, which was a good thing. And while there had been a grate in the past, it looked like the precious steel had been taken away when the fort fell into disuse. And finally, the waterlevel was sufficiently high enough that they would be able to grab the ledge instead of having to climb up along the slick and slippery bricks. Getting out of the well would be a relatively simple matter.

Swift-Like-Fish entered the well entirely and turned to look up at his companions. With a nod and a finger pointing upward, he indicated that the way was clear.
"I'll let the Dunmer go first, that would be safer for us all. They're the hunters here, I am merely the guide."

Undorsil

"Is that all," he asked the scouts. And when they all bowed their heads low, the Altmer took his leave. His priorities were organized, his task clearly laid before him and his destination set into his mind. He muttered an incantation and immediately he was in his chamber.

All was dark and no light shined through the windows.

He preferred the shadows instead of the light. For the Light slowly fades. And with that thought in mind, he continued his unholy studies.

---

Cyldreen

"I'll take watch from that tree over yonder," he pointed at a tree resting beside a group of oaks, which in turn is flanked by bushes and boulders. It was a little left from the main entrance of the fort, on the direction of the Imperial city, and by Cyldreen's reckoning gave a nice view on the fort, the Ayleid well and the lake.

A perfect spot for a scout.

"If anything goes wrong or if you completed your task," he chuckled, "I'll send a signal -don't worry you'll know it when you see it- to the others at the Ayleid Well. That way, we can organize the wagon for a swift escape. Good luck, and may lady Fate smile upon you."

With that, he went ahead to his scouting position.

Look's like I'm right where I need to be, master. Nathan took solace in capable company for the first time in years. Not having to go underground lifted his spirits as well, although the Redguard knew his foes favored that environment. He slipped his amulet over his head and under his clothes.

As the assembly split up, he turned to the Nord with their map. In his time among them, Nathan had learned to distinguish their spirital leaders and storytellers. "Hail, Shaman. I am Nathan, an orphan of Hammerfell."

Aerona followed Swift and Aren to the shoreline, and despite the advice given to her, she chose not to wear the black garb either. In fact, she thought that her own robes would only slow her down while swimming and subsequently snooping around in the fort.

So she left them, along with her shoes, folded and tucked under some shrubs. Hoping she would have time to return for them, she cast her water-breathing spell and plunged into the water behind the others. It was always strange to feel water filling her lungs, but something about it was exhilarating as well; as if she had overcome nature itself. As they swam, it was hard for her to see, but she could feel the water displaced by Swift's tail, making him easy to follow. They entered a tunnel. It seemed to stretch on forever, but when it finally turned upwards, she knew they had arrived.

The priestess surfaced, being sure to exhale the water from her lungs before canceling her spell; that was a mistake beginning mages often made, and she knew from experience that it would create a coughing fit at best, and death at worst. She looked at the heads of her companions, bobbing above the water.

"Before we climb up there, we could use some camouflage," she whispered to them, only to be unnerved by the slight echo of her voice bouncing up from the water and drifting through the stone corridors of the fortress. She covered her mouth quickly in a silent apology before casting the spells. For her and Swift, she cast invisibility, but for Aren, chameleon. Just in case he needed to really act.

I don't know how long I can sustain it for three, she thought, But the idea is to be quick, right?

Aren had as the other two jumped into the water and followed Swift through the tunnel. Expunging the water from his mouth and lungs he heard Aerona's words before a chameleon spell was slapped on him.

"Thanks girl, now follow me and we'll be fine", he whispered before he jumped over the small edge of the well. With a wince he realized that his metal clad feet would render them unable to be stealthy unless he did something.

Motioning for Aerona and Swift to stay silent and put he started to adjust his slightly wet robes as a similarly dressed man walked over to him.

"You, what are you doing down here", Aren's heart pounded as he realized that half the fort would be alerted if the man kept yelling like that.

With a plan half formed in his mind Aren turned towards the necromancer.

"Be quiet, I think I saw something in the well, we may have intruders", he whispered while motioning for the necromancer to come forward. Amazingly enough the man walked over to Aren with a curious look on his face. When he was standing a good three feet from Aren's position Aren gripped his sword and twisted around to give the man's neck and overhead swing chop, and with a spray of blood the man's head came loose and landed with a wet sound in the well behind him.

Looking down into the well at the slightly bloodstained faces of his companions he gave a quick grin while reaching his hand down to aid them. "Sorry 'bout that, hope it didn't hit ya or anything, but I needed a pair of shoes you see and he was the first pair that came strolling towards me".

Swift-like-Fish was more than a bit frightened when he heard Aren mention intruders in the well.
"Did he betray us?" Flashed through his head and for a second he froze before reaching out for Aerona, about to pull her back underwater into the tunnel. It was an act of impulse and if he'd thought further he would not have done it. After all, he had no idea if she would be of sound enough mind to hold her breath till she'd recasted her spell of breathing despite the surprise.

His hand had reached about halfway when Aren showed where his loyalties lay by brutally beheading the stranger.
"Sorry 'bout that, hope it didn't hit ya or anything, but I needed a pair of shoes you see and he was the first pair that came strolling towards me." He said with a sly grin as he moved to help them out of the well.
"After taking the boots, give the body to this one. This one will hide body and head in the tunnel. But cover the wound first. We don't need to draw the hunting fish or our enemies with red water." The Argonian replied as he scooped up the head. It was rather disconcerting. Eyes still open, face distorted into an expression of terror. He shivered and almost dropped it. Hunting people was very different from hunting fish indeed.

Before she could even figure out what was happening, blood splattered in her face and a head bobbed in the water beside her, eyes rolling with the motion of the water. Aerona wanted to scream and she wanted to retch, but knew that either action could result in their deaths. Aren's casual smile from above the lip of the well was just as disconcerting. Almost scrambling, she lifted herself from the well, wanting nothing more than to distance herself from the head. A long shiver crept up her spine, and she couldn't tell if it was from the wet cold or pure disgust.

She focused on droplets of water seemingly falling from midair as they slid from her invisible fingertips. She made herself breathe steadily, cleared her mind, calmed her nerves. Most importantly, she avoided looking at the corpse. Swift's words reached her ears, but they didn't register. Her focus was inward while she tried to reign in her emotions.

"Let's hurry," she said, her voice quivering even in a whisper, "I don't like this."

MARDUS VLAKERIN:

mardus was looking over the items he had taken from the bosmer."Bah! he's a thief, just like the rest of his race! No way a child like him could afford this gear. Suddenly, his guard burst through the door."Sir!" he panted, "all the outer patrolmen have been killed!"
Mardus was in a fit of rage. if he hadnt just fed, he would of drunk the guard dry."Find them! if nobody is found, I will kill everyone in this fort! Do you hear me!"
"y-yes sir!"with that, the guard stumbled away.

((Phew, thats that essay finally finished. Only 3 more to go))

Gillyed had been quite focused on getting the gear shifted, idle talk wasn't exactly going to help at this point. And besides, he had the map. However packing up what meagre supplies the refuges no longer needed and the dead did not want as well as some of the more valuable and useful gear into the wagon hadn't taken as long as he expected.

"Gillyed" he grunted back at the reguard as he loaded a pile of better condition chainmail onto the wagon, the last of what he considered valuable. "Shaman at heart, not official, though I could be if I settled down." he began to lead the horses away, not even turning to watch the Breton go. The man could do whatever he wanted as long as it didn't put anyone else in danger as far as the Nord cared.

He lead the wagon and the tired horse it was hitched too up the steep road towards the well, it was out of sight of the fort which could play to their advantage, and a handy hollow behind the hill left a good place to hide the wagon while providing good sight of the road leading down to the fort, as well as easy escape if need be.

"Right, we'll watch from this hill here." Gillyed declared, not even knowing if the redguard had followed. "If they come flying out there like a clanfear from oblivion then we'll defend from the well. But while we wait, what brings you to Cyrodil traveler?" The Nord asked, hoping he wasn't talking to himself.

Nathan silently trailed after the shaman as the latter busied himself in the absence of most of the group. Gillyed's gruffness didn't bother him much, starved for human company as he was. However, he decided not to chance getting in the man's way unless asked. The Nord seemed quite capable, doing the work of several on his own.

As the two of them walked up the hill, Nathan wondered about the state of the infiltration team. Of the three, only the male dark elf appeared to be a seasoned fighter. The Redguard muttered a quick prayer for them, thankful he was not sneaking underground.
Gillyed's offhand question snapped his mind back to his surroundings. For a moment, Nathan was unsure that the Nord was speaking to him. "The undead destroyed or corrupted everything I loved," He said, almost matter-of-factly. Freezing in Skyrim for five years had allowed him to compartmentalize the grief, but the emptiness within him was not so academic. "I aim to use what I've learned since then to return the favor."

Undorsil

The Altmer watched the bleeding dremora in front of him.

The summoned demon put up a heavy fight when dozens of aspirants closed in to kill it for Undorsil. None remained and two Black Skulls was forced to intervene. They were decapitated and maimed beyond recognition. It is not like Undorsil cared, no far from it. In fact, he approved of the low-ranked maggots' death. Their souls were gladly devoured to further increase the power of trapped energies inside Undorsil. He felt rejuvanated.

"You are a strong one indeed, Kynreeve. Your clan-leader is foolish not to make you a Markyn, but I digress. Willingly lay your arms down and surrender yourself. I shall free you from the bondages of Oblivion."

The dremora looked up and in it's eyes burned a murderous hatred. It replied something in daedric and Undorsil immediately understood.

"Very well," he said. The Altmer layed his hands on its horned head and revealed his nasty fangs in an equally nasty grin. "I thank you for your co-operation, fool."

The sensation of sucking a daedric soul felt immaculately divine and gave the damned elf a sense of omnipotency. He became aware that the darkness inside him now burned with the fires of Oblivion and he felt the urge to summon another one to feel the unholy pleasure of rising in power to rival a Divine.

But pressing matters goaded him more.

He ascended to the battlements and it gave him the pitiful sight of Cyrod's forest and the White Gold Tower. The rage inside was getting harder and harder to put down as he gazed at the view in front of him. It was practically begging to be destroyed.

He raised his hands and muttered a word of magick and the Calcinator of Ishamir appeared before him. While in appearance it might look like what an Apprentice would use, those skilled in the arts of Mystiscism would detect black magick on this tool.

Undorsil handled the Calcinator with telekinesis as he fished for the demonic ingredients it would take to unleash his wrath upon the land. His hand carefully grasped a small pouch. He could not contain a daedric smile as he hefted it.

"In the name of the Worm King do I do this," he intoned as he opened the pouch and spilled whatever inside into the Calcinator. An ethereal flame whoosed up with the rage of the dead. An unnatural energy exploded from the Calcinator and sent a shockwave of fear to those who are near.
The winds that roared against the walls of ruined Bruma suddenly became feral and voices from the Void whispered things from every direction. All hearkened with dread and some felt the arrival of something ... Not of this world nor of the other. But something in between.

A maelstrom of long-silenced voices and power was whirling and at its heart was Undorsil the Master of Disease. Snow became hail as he intoned the incantation of Disease.

He muttered heretical thoughts and voiced black opinions; he screamed wordless challenges at the Divines and echoes from the Nothingness followed whatever he said. And then the Sun was blocked out and darkness reigned. A cloud was penetrated by a palatinate flourescence and it showered Undorsil with the supernatural hue.

"In the name of the Worm King, all shall kneel in humbled submission before Us!"

A finger from the Void; a Pillar of undeath it was and it rose beneath Undorsil and united with the Light from above. All watched in awe and fear as they gazed into the large tower of dark energy, Undorsil's silhouette barely recognized. A terrible tempo of something sinister laughing emerge from nowhere and everywhere.

And it started to rain blood.

The Plague was unleashed and its temporary effects would surely weaken those who resist the Dragon.
--



Cyldreen could only stare at the sight of that terrible .. whatever it was. He could 'see' thousands of faces being whirled cruelly at that .. whirlwind, all screaming in rage and fear. His skin became prickled and the hairs on his neck stood on end. A chill swam on his back and if it weren't for his steady hand clutching something hard to hold on to, he would've surely fell to the ground.

By Malacath! What is this sorcery?!

And then a blood dropped from the darkened heavens. Cyldreen immediately knew that something evil as about to happen. His thoughts gauged true when he felt the sensation of something weakening him. His vision became blurry, his arms felt like they were pasted with cement and the urge to vomit was rising to his throat.

He muttered an incantation of healing. It did little.

He felt the call of everlasting sleep. But he refused. Not yet.

"Sounds rough, on the brightside at least your not some mass murdering psycopath with no care for morales and an attitude aimed at getting the job done despite who get's hurt" Gillyed replied while checking for bears, out of habit.

"Met one o' them guys a month or two back up near the border. I sent him into the high passes for a week or two to try and teach 'im a lesson. Heard he met a nasty end." The big Nord loosened his fur pauldrons and helm. Cyrodil was far too hot for his liking.

"Glad to have you here lad, though I honestly have little clue as to where here is and why we're all wandering around the same stretch of particularily evil field."

OOC: taking minor liberties just to move a little bit forward. hope nobody minds.

Aerona crept behind Aren, holding on to the hem of his cloak so she didn't lose sight of his camouflaged form, and the faint sound of Swift's footsteps let her know of his presence. She glanced nervously to her sides constantly, and whenever they passed a guard she would freeze and hold her breath. There was no sign of any prison cells so far, but they were constantly descending, Aerona noticed; Aren probably thought it likely that there would be a dungeon further down.

"Find them! If nobody is found I will kill everyone in this fort! Do you hear me?" they heard a harsh voice echo from the corridor in front of them.

Suddenly, moments later, a patrol of ten or fifteen guards came running in formation towards them. Aerona flattened herself against the side of the wall to avoid being trampled while they passed. They patrol went for the main exit, and Aerona thought of a silent prayer for their friends still outside.

Had she known that they were nearing a powerful vampire, though, she might have prayed for herself.

Swift felt his heart beating in his chest, so loud it felt as if it was about to burst free. He stayed behind the two Dunmer, keeping low enough for his tail to touch the ground whenever they stopped. At times they encountered someone else. At these points, they would wait for a moment to assess the situation. Then they would move behind the stranger's back one by one, scarcely daring to breathe.

"Find them! If nobody is found I will kill everyone in this fort! Do you hear me?" The Argonian flinched at the sudden outburst from someone up ahead. A moment later he heard the thunder of many footsteps approaching rapidly. There was no time to run. The fisherman curled up against the wall and held his breath, hoping that within the darkness he would appear as nothing but an indistinct lump of mud or stone. If they were discovered, all he could do was hope that Aren would prove as efficient against many foes as he had against one.

The group's own zeal, or fearful knowledge of the price for failure, made them rush passed the hidden trio without casting even a single glance. All that was on their mind were the ones they expected to be outside.
"That voice we heard, this one thinks it might be the leader of this place. This one suggests we...hunt now, while the rest of the pack is away. Still, best be wary. If the threat of death is a real one, that one will be strong enough to stand against those beneath him." He whispered shortly after the darkly clad men and women had passed. Their footsteps still echoed throughout the fort, but receded fast.

Mardus had started to feel strange, as if a siren from the tales of old was calling to him. perhaps it was just his anger messing with his senses."honestly", he muttered to himself, "if that blasted altmer wants this ground held, why send hopeless drones to defend it."

The call was getting stronger, drawing Mardus outside his lair.He could smell it now. blood, and lots of it. this must of been what the elf had meant when he said he would "bring a cloud of fear and weakness to cyrodiil".

Aren led the small group through the fort as quietly as he could, when a voice suddenly screamed for everyone else to 'Find them and kill them'. Smirking slightly as the sound and sight of fifteen men came marching towards them quickly he tightened the grip on his sword 'wouldn't even break a sweat killing them' he thought.

As soon as they had passed he led Swift and Aerona in through the door their enemies had arrived from, luckily only one person was standing guard and though he looked competent if his equipment was anything to go by he had long since grown complacent and it was childsplay for Aren to place an arrow in his throat. Acting quickly he too out the arrow before propping the body up against the wall, making it seem as though the man was leaning against it instead of being terminally dead.

THeir road continued deeper into the depths of the fort until the stood outside the door that led into the cells. "Alright this is where things can get nasty, there are five beings in there, if we're lucky all but one of them might be prisoners, if we assume the worst which is the right thing to assume there will be four guards and one prisoner."

Unscheathing his sword he cancelled the chameleon spell and looked over at his two hard to spot companions. "Once that door will go down I will engage any hostiles within, I want you two to get to the cell where they have our companion, open it and get the hell out of here, I will follow but unless you fancy fighting for your lives you do exactly what I've told you".

Without waiting for a reply he swallowed a potion to greatly enhance his strenght before kicking the door off its hinges. Stepping through the doorway he rammed his sword into the chest of the guard who stood guard by it, a small push dropped the body and he grinned as he watched the terrified faces of the other three guards. "Now which one of you lot thinks you have what it takes to bring me down?" he asked before charging the closest one.

OOC: There now we're getting somewhere.

Mardus:

While Mardus was uncorking a bottle of blood to calm himself, a new scent wafted in.
"strong smell of dunmeri blood, is that argonian?" Mardus thought.

Suddenly, a thunderous crash came from outside his room, followed by the sound of bloodshed.
"blast it!"Mardus thought."I have big plans for that thief, no way bandits are going to ruin them!"

Mardus threw on his set of enchanted ebony and drew his daedric longsword, and started walking towards the cells.

"But what if the cells are locked?" Swift-like-Fish asked but the Dunmer had already beaten down the door and entered the room. So instead the Argonian shook his head and peered around the doorframe to see the battle begin. Aren gave his foes no quarter, nor time to think about anything else but his blade. To his right, the Argonian saw the tell-tale gleam of iron bars, no doubt the cells they had been looking for. He could not see however, if someone was inside or if the door was open.
"Only an entirely incompetent guard would leave an occupied cell unlocked. These are not that stupid. Best find keys first." The fisherman thought and hurriedly glanced at the wall as far away from the cells as possible. If there were any keys in this room, it would be there. Indeed, there was a ring with a single heavy key hanging from a hook just below the torchholder that was the room's sole source of light.

"They're distracted, cells to our right. You go there, this one goes left to take keys. Hurry." He whispered to Aerona and slipped through the door, hoping that Aren would manage to keep being the distraction they needed.