"I consider this a hunting expedition,"

Interesting, Kayla thought to herself. The man who worships Hircine is looking to hunt. Predictable. Kayla's inner dialogue was interrupted by her leg suddenly giving out beneath her. Had she not had her other leg locked, she would have stumbled. She looked around to see if anyone saw her embarrassment and saw Ylenno, grinning idiotically at her. Kayla slowly took in a breath to calm herself, but her efforts were thwarted when Ylenno opened his mouth.

"Hey there," he said, still grinning. "I noticed that you're separated with your boy-toy over there."

Kayla frowned as Ylenno pointed towards Westley. What?!

"Something happened between you two? Your marital link severed with irritation at each other?"

What??!! "We're not-"


"Aahh, but Uncle Ylenno here is experienced with such things. I find that ... well, not really. I'm just here to iniate a random conversation like the others are doing right now. So, here's a random question to kick things of-"

Before Kayla could cut him off herself with a sarcastic quip, a man around the same height as Ylenno completely invaded Ylenno's personal space. He stood what seemed as right up against the back of Ylenno and, irritated as she was at him, she hated to see that look on anyone's face. The voice alone seemed to keep Ylenno from doing what she knew him to do best, and that was talk. Kayla didn't blame him. As he spoke, she felt her shoulders tense up. The man had a voice that would make infants cry.

He alerted them that they were to be at the Atruim before giving Ylenno back his own breathing space. Kayla could sense the relief from Ylenno, but all the same, she put a hand on his shoulder and put herself between him and the red-eyed Breton.

Those eyes...

Kayla blinked to make sure she hadn't been mistaken. They were red, alright. She looked at the man's mouth as he spoke, looking for any indication of fangs. She put her hand on Dawnbreaker. It was silent. The man, whether he had red eyes or not, was not a vampire. She bit the inside of her bottom lip, her eyebrows knitting together. His armor was spectacular in design, the gold mixing with the brass in an impressive design. But what caught her eye was the axes, the light reflecting the edges beautifully. She cocked her head.

"I am Celdryn Minan'Kherus," the man said. Kayla felt her skin itch when he said his name. She crossed her arms over her chest. He wanted to know their names as well.

"I am Kayla." She said curtly. To show she was not intimidated, even though she was, she kept eye contact and held out her hand to shake his. "It seems Oedipus has a vase of yours. Come to get it back?"

Ylenno bristled silently as he eyeballed the golden armored Celdryn. Kayla stood between him and the other eerie man, and Ylenno would've certainly punched the pompous villain across the jaw were it not for the fact that it simply would've been a bad decision and, as loathe as Ylenno would've admitted it, the red-eyed breton looked fully capable of serving him his head on a plate. Didn't stop Ylenno from continously eyeballing him, though, which Celdryn pointedly ignored.

Kayla offered her hand in greetings, and Celdryn gave her a rather unnerving once-over and the royal-red stare stayed fixed at the hilt of her sword. His nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed. The stare returned to Kayla's, and he bent over to cusp her hand with both of his. Never taking his eyes off of her, he bent over and instead of shaking it as was the normal custom, he sent a chilling kiss that sent waves of ice slithering up her arm, like worms ascending.

"My pleasure, Kayla of the North," he drawled with that voice of his. "Tell me truely. How did you attract the eye of the Lady of Limitless Energies? You bear her marking light about you, that much I can see."

He straightened himself and looked at the others of the group, pointedly at Westley and Lycus. Especially Lycus, as he regarded the Imperial as a lion heralding the sight of a menacing rival.

"Although the stench of Oblivion does not come solely from you. Here we have two sons. One smells of an inexperienced pup, barely grown of his fangs. The other.. mmm. A delicious predator, sweet as the poison that kills."

He nodded his head towards Lycus, staring intently at him, unblinking.

"I assume you are Desselius? The one who Melisandre pined over?"

Buffy:

Before the small elf could continue learning more about Lycus, they were interrupted by a Breton that had appeared in the room. The man was dressed in elaborate gold armor and, as his gaze swept about the chamber, Buffy could see that his eyes were red!

Instinctively, she lightly touched her lower abdomen near one hip. Had the man been a vampire, she would have experienced at least one cramp at this range. Although relieved, she found herself edging closer to the protective dark steel and bristling weaponry of the human that towered next to her.

The Breton introduced himself to the group as Celdryn. His malevolent voice did not make her feel any better, despite the silken words he oozed as he addressed Ylenno, then Kayla.

Who was this man? He was certainly creepy enough to be the guild’s porter, yet he seemed to wield some authority here. Deputy guild commander perhaps? If so, she wondered of his qualifications – beyond the ability to intimidate. Why had Oedipus not introduced this man to the group and. . . where was the guildmaster?

The disconcerting Breton’s eyes then traveled between Westley and Lycus as he verbally compared them to animals! Finally, as if to add insult to injury or perhaps a stunning display of ignorance, the man addressed Lycus by the wrong name.

She held her tongue. Grateful to be standing under the shadow of Lycus, this was one time when the elf would not mind being overlooked due to her size. Should the Breton address her, would he call her a horse-eared miniature forest freak? Or worse?

Buffy furrowed her brow and decided that if this man held a position of authority, it certainly did not inspire confidence.

Celdryn never broke his unnerving gaze from hers, except to look her over and study her sword. He then did something Kayla did not expect. He gently grasped her hand with the two of his own and gave her outstretched hand a kiss that froze the blood in her body. Inwardly, she screamed in disgust. She fought the urge to yank her hand away, keeping her gaze on his, never wavering.

Not intimidated. Angry. Get angry.


"My pleasure, Kayla of the North. Tell me truely." Kayla took this opportunity to calmly pull her hand from his. She absentmindedly wiped the back of it onto her armor. "How did you attract the eye of the Lady of Limitless Energies? You bear her marking light about you, that much I can see."

Kayla did not feel the need to respond. She felt the need to shower. She felt the need to react in some manner other than silence. How did he know that she worshiped Meridia? Had Dawnbreaker's gem been revealed? She checked the leather flap covering it. No, it was still covered, but that doesn't mean it hadn't been uncovered at some point. Not to mention she had also announced her ties with Meridia when Lycus announced his ties with Hircine.

Kayla relaxed. That's what it was. That explained it. She allowed her gaze to break from him and glance towards where his attention now was, which was pointed towards Lycus and Westley.

Two sons... As far as she knew, only Lycus worshiped Hircine. Unless Celdryn was off in his musings again. Kayla saw Buffy shrink a little when Celdryn spoke. She put a protective hand on Buffy's shoulder as well, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She felt a bit more confident now. Confident enough to answer.

"To answer your question, Celdryn," she gave him her sweetest smile, taking her hand off of Buffy's should and crossing her arms over her chest. "Since you're so interested. The town I spent my childhood in was ransacked and slaughtered by vampires. They turned the children. I was the only one to survive." It felt...painful, to say it out loud. She put her left hand on Dawnbreaker's hilt for emphasis. "I was rescued and raised by a cult dedicated to Meridia." She raised an eyebrow, keeping the smile on her face. "Satisfied?"

Edit: Ignore this, mixed up my tabs. Consider this a placeholder for a later update. Derp.

And here's the update.

Tarrick

Westley didn't seem all that conversant, shrugging off Tarrick's attempts at conversation with a noncomittal mutter. The Redguard decided to let the man ferment in his own surliness, and glanced over to see a Breton approaching them.

Tarrick, like all good thieves, trusted his gut. When the difference between discovering and concealment lay in what your subconcious was telling you, any thief worthy of the title knew that it was always wise to put your faith in instincts. And right now, his gut was telling him bad things about this Breton; it wasn't just the crimson eyes, disconcerting and creepy as they were, but something about his stance, his bearing and the air around him suggested something predatory, something vicious and hungry about the man. He could see Kayla and Ylenno seemed equally uneasy about the man as he approached them, and that was telling; if Ylenno was scared by the man, then he could really mean trouble.

He slipped up behind Buffy and Lycus, deciding the two of them would form an adequate barrier, and quietly asked; "Any idea who he is? Between you two and me, he...looks like trouble."

Buffy:

The Breton had rapidly addressed two of Buffy’s teammates before posing a question to Lycus.

Before the big man could reply, Buffy felt Kayla’s hand fall reassuringly upon her small shoulder and it was the Altmer who spoke, addressing the statements that Celdryn had made about her. If Kayla felt intimidated – like Buffy did – neither her words nor manner revealed it.

As the tall elf released her shoulder, Buffy heard a quiet voice behind her. "Any idea who he is? Between you two and me, he...looks like trouble." She turned her head to look up into the face of Tarrick.

Buffy shrugged and shook her head. She was unsure if there was danger here or not.

A glance down verified that her right fist displayed no visual warning of the emerald power it held at the ready. Being sandwiched between Lycus and Kayla, with Tarrick close enough behind to feel his breath on the top of her head, was comforting. She waited for the heavily armored Imperial next to her to reply to the Breton’s question that hung in the air.

Lycus Desselius:

Before Buffy could reply to Lycus, a crimson-eyed Breton made himself known to the group. Calling himself Celdryn Minan'Kherus, the man was covered in golden armor with exotic symbols. He had an authorative aura about him, and a menacing look and tone of voice which Lycus felt had intimidated most of the members of the group.

Lycus himself was not unnerved. Years ago he would have been. As a young fearful man, he would be fearful. But he's been through hell and back, and faced enemies that would make a man's soul weep. It sufficed to say he wasn't afraid of Celdryn. But he was cautious.

The man had red eyes but he was no vampire. Lycus couldn't smell the curse of undeath upon him. And even if he did, he wouldn't be bothered. Who is he to judge when his own Lycanthropy would be considered a crime in and of itself? Who is he to judge when he also stalks the night in search for prey? He had no hatred for vampires, but he also did not respect those who tried to manipulate or use him. Or in some cases, feed on him.

Lycus focused not only on Celdryn, but others as well. He noticed how Kayla seemed . . .angry when the man kissed her on the hand and went on to link her relationship with Meridia. As far as he was concerned, she only told him and few other members present. He had a creeping suspicion that either one of them previously met the Breton and informed him or he had also took notice to Kayla repeatedly checking the glowing blade sheathed by her side.

Kayla touched Buffy on the shoulder and gently squeezed it while her other arm was set above her sword. She raised an eyebrow and revealed to everyone that her town was ransacked by vampires and the children were turned. It was not far-fetched that she would be recruited into a cult that hated the undead.

Meridia was the Daedra of light and infinite energies and one of the Princes considered not to be "evil". Kayla had no reason to hide her worship considering Meridia was a foe to everything that lived to spite Arkay, the god of death. Compared to the other princes, worship of Meridia would be considered somewhat acceptable.

Lycus tried to discern what the deal was with Celdryn. He had a predatory look about him and Lycus felt a growing tension between them. There was something off about him and Lycus would figure out the reason, though when he discovers it, he knows chances are he won't be threatened the slighest. He had friends who were cutthroats and barbarians of the worst kind, who now dined in Shor's hall in Sovngarde and men like himself who devoured others under the influence of the moons.

He had seen enough death to understand the value of life, and he would not make everyone his enemy unless he himself was threatened.

Tarrick squeezed in between the tallest Imperial and the smallest Mer. "Any idea who he is? Between you two and me, he...looks like trouble."

"Celdryn." Lycus said in a gruff voice, unable to take his eyes off the man. And Celdryn was unable to take his eyes off Lycus. It was as if a staring contest had begun, with neither bothering to look the other way. While Lycus remained quiet, it was the Breton who broke the silence.

"Although the stench of Oblivion does not come solely from you. Here we have two sons. One smells of an inexperienced pup, barely grown of his fangs. The other.. mmm. A delicious predator, sweet as the poison that kills."

Inexperienced pup . . .that much we stand in agreement, Lycus thought. Though the fact that he compared Westley to an infant dog and Lycus to a predator told him that Celdryn knew more than he needed to. Lycus had never told anyone about his Lycanthropy. The only beings in Tamriel who know of this are his wife and members of the Circle back in Skyrim, and of course the deceased who parted for the next life.

Westley was a different story. The ring on his finger was too obvious to be ignored. It marked him easy prey.

His mention of Melisande was enough to make Lycus tilt his head to the side. There could be many women in Cyrodiil named Melisandre, but only one came to mind. The former Witch of Glenmoril.

"I assume you are Desselius? The one who Melisandre pined over?"

The witches of Glenmoril had no presence in Cyrodiil anymore. The last ones were hunted down by the native competitive vampiric clan of Cyrodiil. And his wife was responsible for the demise of another. Melisande gave up her craft, as far as he was concerned. He met the woman once. She helped him recover when he was poisoned by hunters near the Corbolo River.

Lycus raised his head and confirmed his identity. "I am Lycus Desselius, yes," he said. "And what is your buisness here, Celdryn?"

He didn't wait for an answer. He stepped forth closer to the man, invading what most would call personal space. He flared his nostrils once and sucked the air around the Breton through his nose and held it in. "If you've come for the feast, I fear you are late. But I trust a man who would know the flavor of poisonous nectar and favors the flesh of succulent predators would not be inconvenienced." He paused, exhaled, and caught the scent of death in the man's breath. The same smell of spilled blood and entrails that Lycus awakens at times in the morning after the transformation. He could almost taste the rot . . .

A cocky smile drew on the hunter's face and now he stared even more. Almost as two Sabrecats in the wild fighting each other off with vicious eyes.

OOC: Here we go. Let's have some fun.

Ylenno kept to the side, tension roilling on his legs, hands twitching, eyes shining a little too clearly. He lowered his posture, as a cobra. Ready to strike whenever possible, and strike f***ing hard. Lycus answered the taunts of this Celdryn by getting up-front in his face, talking some stuff the elf didn't bother to understand, nonsensical to him as it was. What he did understand, however, was that there were two dangerous people staring each other down, faces inches apart. Everything about Lycus shrieked challenging, and Ylenno begrudgingly had to hand it to Celdryn; a well-built Imperial that could be easily mistaken as a short Nord invading his sense of space, and the Breton didn't even flinch or blink.

In fact... the creep seemed delighted.

All around them, things became quiet. Real quiet. A tense silence. Eyes glued to the two individuals, two smouldering fireworks just waiting for the flame and the oil. Ylenno has no doubt that Lycus is more than capable of defending himself against the Breton if things wind up a little too hostile. Guy was a Grand Champion after all, and held that position for quite some time.

But Ylenno, veteran of many brawls, knew that experience could only get you so far. It never guaranteed certain victory. It only raised chances in your favor. True lethality didn't come from some blood shed in the past or some endless drills out in an open field; it was most strongest in the adaptability of the current showdown. That, and the willingness to mess somebody up so bad they won't be a threat again. Lycus is sure to be aware of this, and Ylenno doubted Celdryn didn't too.

So Ylenno kept himself alert, ready to uncoil himself when the first strike was thrown.


Which, oddly, never came. These two guys seemed intent on exchanging barbs and eyeballing each other to submission. But the elf still kept himself in the same position, listening now to their showdown.

"I sensed the arrival of two of His wayward sons," Celdryn drawled, and the echoes of his deep, malevolent voice, if it could be possible, sounded more sinister, more threatening, more evil, akin to the charisma of a fallen archangel.

"When there was a scream in the night, and the moon thereafter was mirrored by the sacred vermillion shed a few leagues away from here."

And then Celdryn laughed. Ylenno tried his damndest, his very best damndest, to forget such a wretched sound. All at once he felt worms in his gut writhing and eating their way out when he heard Celdryn laughing.

"You are an astute one, oh yes. Amusingly so. Dining upon apex predators holds a certain irony to it, do you not agree? Hmm? The hunter becomes the hunted, and the eater is eaten. Ahhh, but the act itself holds a boastful benediction, an undeniable reality."

The Breton leaned in close at the side of Lycus' face, never taking his eyes of nor his smile, and a curiously dark-colored tongue hissed from his mouth, slithering like a snake, closing the inches between him and Lycus. It tasted the air, and would've licked the left ear of the Imperial were it not held back at the last moment.

Celdryn whispered.

"That the wolves are not always the ones who rule the forest. Go on, do continue to smile. Show off your fangs, 'brother'. Show me the teeth that devours at the end of the hunt.. But mine are sharper. Mine claws rend the lambs much easier. Wolves are not always the ones who rule the forest; there are lions there too."

He forced the Imperial away from his personal space with a growl that alternated like a sound of happiness and a gentle push. But the way Celdryn appraised Lycus was anything but gentle. In fact, Celdryn looked to Lycus as if he was ... meat. Either Cekdryn was very sure of himself, or he was just plain foolish for him to do that. But there was something else in those pools of sinister crimson. There was a promise there, Ylenno could see. A dark promise.

Celdryn looked to Kayla and remembered her little sob-story.

"Such tragic events. You have my condolences," he said to her, although his voice indicated that he was anything but. "We have dabbled here long enough. Nebraska awaits. Although I received three names today, I aim to recitify that later."

He stared at Buffy and gave her a lecherous wink.

"I know who you are, my beautiful Lady Dame, but I would like to hear your name uttered by your lips. I am honored that you grace us with your beauty.. Now come."

He turned on his heels and marched straight towards the Atrium, where inside, things looked like a military procession. All of the hired mercs were seated, with their assorted group, and at the far end of the hall. there he stood elegantly, a shining figure bedecked in steel-shining armor. Oedipus looked at their arrival and heralded it with a clap.

"Please, have a seat," the master of the Adventurers boomed, indicating towards a series of chairs near his position. "We are only waiting for the Green group now, and they shan't be longer."

With one last, contemptous look towards them, Celdryn bid them au revoir and went towards the platform, standing beside Oedipus a few inches back.

Lycus Desselius:

The air grew thick with malice and Celdryn began to speak again in mysterious sentences.

"When there was a scream in the night, and the moon thereafter was mirrored by the sacred vermillion shed a few leagues away from here."

Celdryn laughed.

"You are an astute one, oh yes. Amusingly so. Dining upon apex predators holds a certain irony to it, do you not agree? Hmm? The hunter becomes the hunted, and the eater is eaten. Ahhh, but the act itself holds a boastful benediction, an undeniable reality."

He leaned in closer now to Lycus, not daring to back away. His voice dripping with venom of a serpent, but holding the boldness of a lion. "That the wolves are not always the ones who rule the forest. Go on, do continue to smile. Show off your fangs, 'brother'. Show me the teeth that devours at the end of the hunt.. But mine are sharper. Mine claws rend the lambs much easier. Wolves are not always the ones who rule the forest; there are lions there too."

And Lycus smiled once more, and he whispered back in hopes that only Celdryn could understand. "Let no man say before a witness that the Hunt has not been called, nor the Rites declared, or the Ancient Offices observed. In the end . . .all live and die by the hunt. Even lions, my brother, are felled too, in the everlasting Chase. When fate beckons to a man, he has no choice but to be summoned."

Lycus saw now that Celdryn was not a man to be triffled with. He had a cunning and dark experience that not many in the world shared. And he new the fundamentals in the hunt. That even predators can be prey. This amused Lycus profoundly, for he himself had been hunted before.

The memories were fresh as ever. The citizens may herald him as Grand Champion of the arenas in Cyrodiil and the lost ones in Morrowind. But only a handful knew of his survival in Oblivion.

Memories came to him; falling from the sky as a twirling ragdoll crying out in confusion and fear . . .the water cold against his skin . . .the horns . . .the bears and the drivers . . .the rivers that run forever more with blood and a sun that is equal of color . . .the immense forest and large savanna, deep canyons, and the silvery moon.

Lycus blinked. He knew what horror it is to be hunted. To be prized for the skin he wears and the skull beneth his flesh. For he became the ultimate hunter by first climbing to the pinnacle as prey and there is no greater glory for prey himself to stand face to face with Hircine himself. In his own realm. In his own game . . .and survive. And be rewarded with the greatest gift the Huntsman can bestow upon a mortal man.

It was a tale he dared not reveal to anyone that was not worthy to hear. Some would laugh, label him a madman, stone him, imprison him . . .but the large scar across his chest made by Hircine's spear proved it. He was chosen among the most dangerous of Tamriel because of his strength, and pitted against the most talented hunters of Hircine's sphere.

In nature it was not always the survival of the fittest, but the survival of the smartest. In turning the tables against his pursuers, in bathing in the blood and bone of his foes and baptizing himself in the ritualistic honor of The Wild Hunt and only the flames could set him free.

Legend has it that one man escaped the Hunting Grounds, and was rewarded with the Savior's Hide for it . . .but Lycus never escaped but he was rewarded.

He looked to Celdryn once more and felt the same feeling of being prized for his hide and his skin. He felt a predator's gaze fall upon him once more. Celdryn is a predator. A hunter of his own kind and Lycus respected men like him, but respect did not grant leniency. Even enemies could show respect.

Lycus remained focused on Celdryn as his eyes went to Buffy. Celdryn to him was . . .worthy prey who can provide the sport he craves. One who's skull that could be skinned and washed and placed in his trophy room or who's spine could be collected.

He caressed his blade and moistened his lips instinctevely as he followed the man into the Atrium where Oedepius was. He took a seat as told, and had a serious look on his face as Celdryn stood behind the Master of Adventures.

For the first time, he was content he came to this trip. If Hircine smiles upon him . . .perhaps he can bring back the hide of a man and of another wolf. Perhaps.

Buffy:

Lycus not only responded to Celdryn, but he closed the distance to within inches of the Breton’s face to do so. Like Kayla, he displayed no sign of being intimidated. If anything, he appeared to enjoy the challenge.

A twinge of embarrassment convicted Buffy as she learned that the name Desselius, used by the Breton was not an error. She had forgotten that many humans had not only their own name, but also a family or clan name. So Celdryn was neither ignorant nor ill-informed.

The two men, faces just inches apart seemed like two bucks during the dangerous rutting season. Finally it was Celdryn who broke the locked horns between them by turning his gaze to the smallest target in the room – herself!

He gave her a wink that that made the wood elf’s skin crawl. “I know who you are, my beautiful Lady Dame, but I would like to hear your name uttered by your lips. I am honored that you grace us with your beauty. Now come.”

His look and words made her feel like a morsel of venison. Small hands planted themselves on both hips and she jutted forth her chin. Her eyes narrowed and she was about to utter more than just her name when the Breton wheeled and headed into the next room.

Torn between relief and disappointment, the small elf followed the others into the next room where Oedipus Nebraska awaited. As far as what Celdryn knew about her, there was no mystery there. Buffy’s title was no secret; in fact it was quilled upon the very parchment she submitted for the expedition.

She shared a brief look of commiseration with Kayla as if to say, ‘I need to scrub my skin.’ Buffy had only been visually undressed, whereas the lecherous Breton had actually touched the Altmer’s hand with his lips.

Kayla rolled her eyes at the Breton's dismissal of her past. Between the testosterone-fueled staring contest between Celdryn and Lycus, and her own irritation at being touched without permission, she had little patience anymore. The red-eyed Breton and the large Imperial seemed to have a...moment.

The tension in the air could have been cut with a dagger. Kayla's eyes shot up as the group watched them...whisper? They were whispering to each other??

Kayla sighed impatiently. Then she got angry again as Celdryn addressed Buffy. His eyes traveled up and down her form and Kayla felt a white-hot fury. She took a soothing breath as Buffy took an attitude, hands on hips, lips coiled to strike with a biting comment. Before she could say anything, however, Celdryn turned on his heel and went into the room.

Kayla pulled Buffy aside by the arm and leaned down. Her heart raced with adrenaline.

"Listen to me, Buffy," she whispered. "We need to stick together." Se gestured while she spoke. "You are no good in close-quarter combat, no? I am." She leaned down and looked into the small Bosmer's blue eyes. "You do not want to get caught alone with a man like him. If we are lucky, he will stay behind. Then we don't have to worry about him."

Kayla straightened up. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. She exhaled and looked down at the blonde Bosmer. "Let's hope I am overreacting. I have been... caught by men like that. But they had larger fangs and did not like sunlight." She gave Buffy a weak half-smile. "But just in case... stick close. Please?"

Buffy:

Buffy’s assessment that Kayla shared her discomfort was quickly confirmed as the taller elf drew close and whispered words of encouragement as well as an offer to use her melee skills to protect the smaller elf. After cautioning about Celdryn and sharing the hope that he would not accompany them, Kayla allowed that she might be overreacting and added, “But just in case. . . stick close. Please?”

As Buffy stared up at the taller elf’s brown eyes, she saw power, strength and nobility of purpose. As far as the small elf was concerned, a new friendship had just been born. She nodded her agreement, but as soon as her mouth opened to speak, she was interrupted by the booming voice of Oedipus Nebraska. "Please, have a seat. We are only waiting for the Green group now, and they shan't be longer."

The two elves had barely claimed an adjacent pair of seats when Buffy whispered urgently to Kayla. “Let me speak quickly, for it seems private moments may be rare on this expedition. I thank you for the protection of your melee skills. Ironically, the safety you provide allows me to return the favor with spell and arrow.”

Buffy looked around briefly, then quietly continued, “If you feel a restorative surge of healing magic penetrate the back of your cuirass, it is I - for my healing requires laying on hands. When allies are entangled with foes in fast-moving melee, it is easy for my ranged attacks to hit the wrong target; if you suddenly feel an artificial surge in loyalty to me, you will know it is an errant command spell – harmless compared to missing with an arrow. If, however, you hear me call ‘Get down!’ it means that if you can briefly drop to one knee, I'm prepared to slam an arrow into the foe in front of you before they can exploit you being on one knee. My bow is powerful enough that if it doesn't kill the foe, it will stagger them long enough for you to get back on both feet. If you see the ethereal spectre of a ghost appear, know that he is my ally. And lastly, if you see me cornered, do not panic; although it will pull my focus out of the larger fight, I am skilled at immobilizing foes at close range when required.” Buffy clasped the Altmer’s hand and looked up at her. “We will protect each other.”

Westley

Westley watched quietly while Lycus had a stare down with a Breton man who called himself Celdryn Minan'Kherus. Apparently this man was aware of his condition, and this unnerved Westley. He kept a good distance away from the group, and watched while Buffy pulled Kayla aside and whispered something.

Westley silently growled when Celdryn walked away. He new something was off about this red-eyed Breton man. he remembered the words that a wise lycanthrope once told him.

Do not underestimate the prey, because sometimes the hunter can become the hunted, and the chase will be turned around. It's merely Hircine's will

Westley fiddled with with the ring of Hircine on his finger.

Maybe my lycanthropy will come in handy after all...

He took a deep breath, and looked back up at the crowd. Everyone looked so innocent, such easy prey. Westley growled

Damn it! Why is Hircine doing this to me?! I won't hunt innocent people!

The thought that Hircine may punish him if he didn't hunt crossed Westley's mind.

But if I don't kill, Hircine will punish me...

Westley stopped and thought about it for a moment.

Maybe I can sneak out and maul some bandits before we leave...

Westley sniffed the air. Celdryn's scent was still fresh.

But this Celdryn character isn't innocent.I just know it!

He sighed

I'm going to have to learn to follow my instincts if I'm going to stay a werewolf, or Hircine will punish me

Westley looked down at the ground

But killing for sport is wrong

He scowled

But it's Hircine's will. I have to obey

He looked back into the room Celdryn had disappeared into

"The hunt has began." He whispered miserably to himself

Elaninde:

She heard a voice, and quickly turned to the source of the sound. It was a Breton, calling himself Celdryn Minan'Kherus, his eyes were red but he didn't have that stench of undead that vampires have. Elaninde was to used to the smell of vampires since she had encountered enough of them to recognize one. Elaninde could see Kayla trying to hold back the urge to pull her arm away from Celdryn as he kissed it.

Celdryn led them to the atrium and Elaninde sat down as Oedipus Nebraska, standing in shining steel armour, informed them that they were only waiting for the green group.

Elaninde suddenly remembered seeing, in the corner of her eye, that Kayla had a habit of checking the flap covering her sword, what could it be...

“We will protect each other.”

Kayla sighed in relief. She had listened intently as Buffy listed off her tactics for battle, pairing them with her own style and when they would be useful. She wasn't keen on command spells being used on her, but her race would make it easy for Buffy to tell her to duck down or move. As long as Kayla was aware that Buffy was behind her, she wouldn't attack her if Buffy grabbed her. She looked at the wood elf's soft features. Surely she would be gentle, unless it was dire. she thought.

Kayla was not used to having a battle buddy. Least of all, a battle buddy GROUP. She swung her head towards Westley, his expression miserable, then towards Lycus, whose expression was, as always, unreadable, yet not hostile. Celdryn had singled them out as a pair. There had to be something about them that connected them together. Looking at the two, she nearly laughed at herself out loud. They were nearly opposites, only the same in that they were Imperials.

She glanced at Ylenno and Tarrick, then at Elinande. Would any others make pacts? Or would they stay solitary? Buffy and Kayla would make a decent pair, in Kayla's eyes. Perhaps when a skirmish broke out, each would find someone they'd like to pair with. Someone to balance the other.

She clasped Buffy's hand. "Listen," she whispered lowly, knowing Buffy's ears would pick it up. "In my pocket, there's a note to my husband, in case I don't make it. If you do, I would like for you to deliver it to him. Inside you will find my wedding ring and instructions on who he is and where he is. I will do the same for you, if you desire."

Buffy:

Buffy returned Kayla’s solemn gaze. “I sure we’ll be fine, but if it does come to that, I will do as you ask. I promise, Kayla.” The high elf had also offered to return the favor. The wood elf shook her head. “My mate died in my arms as we fought to free his city of Kvatch. Before we enter the ruins, I’ll teleport my mare to Equestria, the University’s stable in the Valley of Horses where she will be safe.”

Buffy knew that if her flesh perished, the paladin that dwelled within her would sweep them from this time and world. She and Acadian would then reemerge. . . somewhere. She would remember nothing of this life, for he alone carried the memories of their past lives. She also knew nothing of the time, plane or form they would take, only that they would be together – as they had since time before Nirn.

Both elves looked around the room as Oedipus stood up front waiting for the green group to join them.

Although quite nervous still over the red-eyed Breton, Buffy was comforted that, if the others in her group were intimidated by him like she was, they didn’t show it. Lycus had unhesitatingly stood toe-to-toe with him. Kayla had met his challenge with a cool hardness of her own. Westley looked like he was still fighting to stay his blade, and was clearly not afraid of the Breton. Ylenno was hard to read with his off-center humor and attitude, but she saw no fear in him either. Elaninde was quietly inscrutable. Only Tarrick, via his body language seemed to share a bit of Buffy’s unsettledness.

She leaned close to Kayla and kept her voice low, “I’m glad that Celdryn fellow is not in our group, but have to wonder why Oedipus has him around. He seems to wield some authority in this guild.”

Lycus.

Lycus saw the hesitant pup avert his gaze to the floor and back up to Celdryn then to fiddling with the fabled artifact around his finger. It was beyond Lycus why this child would be granted such a treasure. Lycus wondered what Westley had to do to get the ring. By most accounts the ring was often acquired when a hunter brought down a werewolf or a Lycanthrope.

The ring itself suppresses the lust for blood and even going as far as to give control for those using it. No simple man would find the artifact useful, for the ring is meant for those with the beast blood. It wasn't coinscedence most of those wielding it were hunted down or died in combat. Tharsten-Heart Fang of the Skaal was one of these men. After his demise the ring passed on to another worthy wearer. If Westley had the ring then he had some measure of worth. Lycus was curious on finding out what.

"The hunt has began." Westley whispered. Lycus captured the words with his enhanced hearing and snorted as he settled in his chair. That it has, but the hunt is unpredictable and many innocents can be caught in the storm of the hunt.

The blood and flesh of innocents represents purity, and everything pure is made prey. Lycus heard of white unicorns being hunted, white stags, spirit bears and even rituals of Lycanthropy where innocents had to be sacrificed. It is the prey Hircine finds acceptable; with every death of such stainless person under the claw and fang, the Lord of the Hunt is honored and the Lycanthrope who dealt the killing blow is given life from the passing of the prey, and thus able to be sustained for the duration of a night lest his energy and health be sapped away gradually.

He looked to Westley and wondered if the man had what it took to survive. If he could balance the life of an innocent person in his hand. He would have to see what this man was about, and if Hircine's will remained the same. Lycus was willing to give the man a chance. Just this once.

He rose from his seat, and occupied an empty chair near Westley. It was a welcome surprise considering Kayla was tied to this man. But she seemed to be whispering to the Bosmeri archer, Buffy.

Lycus didn't say anything at first, but after awhile he looked to Westley and cleared his throat and whispered. "Tonight will be a dark night, pup. The celestial bodies will be at their fullest. Do you seek to spend it locked within a cage or set free upon the wild to claim it as your own?"

Westley

Westley glanced over at Lycus when he sat beside him. The other Imperial was silent for a moment before speaking.

"Tonight will be a dark night, pup. The celestial bodies will be at their fullest. Do you seek to spend it locked within a cage or set free upon the wild to claim it as your own?"

Westley hesitated for a moment before responding. "I don't have much of a choice. Hircine is too powerful, I have to hunt. I can't risk getting punished for disobeying our father. I don't like it much, but tonight I'll hunt. I have to give in to the wolf. I've lost the battle I've been fighting for so long. The wolf has won." Westley looked down at the ground.

Westley was disappointed in himself. Hircine had won this tug-of-war between the inner wolf and the man. Westley didn't want to get punished. He knew that Hircine was displeased with him for not giving onto his bestial side, and using the ring to constrain the wolf. It was unsporting.

He glanced over at Lycus and waited for a response.

Lycus:

Lycus appraised Westley with a wide-eyed glare. Westley spoke of losing his internal battle between his humanity and his beast. The call of the animal within was much stronger than he'd anticipated. But Lycus wasn't entirely convinced. The way he spoke in solemn tone, lowered his head in dissapointment, told the older Imperial that the man did not like what he'd become.

Try as he might to avoid Hircine, he still feels miserable with his condition. And should he continue to misuse his gift, the Huntsman's wrath will be set upon him regardless of him wanting it or not. It was inescapable.

The long-haired man cast his eyes around the room without raising suspicion, then he clasped his hands together and returned his focus to Westley. His hazel eyes penetrating and wide. A wild fire burning within.

Speaking of Hircine in the presence of others is dangerous. He knew there were Mer in the room, and with their ears as large as horses, he was already risking too much. He spoke in hushed whispers, but even that was too much. But thankfully he sat in the farthest corner of the room, where Westley seemed to feel most comfortable.

"For every perceived illness exists a cure," Lycus said without looking at Westley. His eyes were scanning the room for anything he could pickup, but his mind was searching for the proper words and his ears were carefully attuned to everything surrounding him. "Cling to the fear of spilling the blood of the innocents and you will incur the wrath of Hircine in this life or the next." He paused. "Yet you do not stand blemished for desiring a cure. You should seek one. I am willing to point you in the right direction, boy."

Before Westley spoke, Lycus decided to elaborate. "This is not a gift to be taken likely. You play with fire upon your lap and if it not tended with care you will find yourself scorched." He blinked. "This condition seeps into the soul. With the shadow of the beast you are forever marked. The moment you breathe your last in this world, you will breath your first in Oblivion and know that if you do not hold Hircine's favor you will be hunted down until the flesh is peeled from your back. We need a honorable hunters and warriors in the Grounds, not some angry child who can’t piss without splashing everyone and everything about him."

"This night I will depart for the Fort. I have marked territories around the plains so that my distance won't be great during the nightly escapade. I am willing to share the glory of this night. Just this once. But you've been warned. "The Prince has no patience for the fickle. You are given a choice. Don't spit upon an opportunity when presented."

GM POST and YLENNO

Celdryn had the patience of a crocodile and the eagerness of a shark. In his long existence here in Tamriel, he had never seen such a dazzling crew of walking meats like the ones who wear these bands of blue. All of them, even the mighty Lycus, were bejeweled with the deliciously marinated tragedies of their lives, and four of them had tasted the kiss of Oblivion. It was evident by some of the artifacts and blessings they wear upon themselves, and the smallest of them all had seen the spires of Dagon. It was always obvious in the eyes, Celdryn have learned. That misty veil that curtains some of the sights from the mind, and of course, that irresistibly saccharine sorrow that dots the irises.

Yes.

Buffy, among wolves and rogues, was the snake masking herself as an angel. The most dangerous of the lot. Hiding her scales beneath wings that flap philosophies of rubbish content. He had singled her out the moment she had stepped foot in the Guildhall, and felt the protective bubble of twilight dancing about her. This was the providence of Azura, but Celdryn knew not if Buffy had accepted her as mistress and matron. This matter would certainly bear watching.

Next in line for inspection was Westley, chosen of Hircine. The Hunter's standards have certainly fallen low for Him to give this pubescent lad His most greatest of gifts. The boy was a mercurial pentateuch of all that is wrong for the ideal Hunter, and Celdryn suspected that the pup was still undergoing the growth from fledgeling to hunter. He exhumes forth internal anguish as a lowly wh0re exhumes her cheap fragrance, prone to volatile changes of mood. Aversed to the contact of society. Perhaps second in line on being the most dangerous, as he was unpredictable as he was antisocial. Celdryn felt the hostility growing within the boy directed to him, and that was good. He gave the boy a shark's smile. This premature hatred is evidence enough that he feared Celdryn. For Westley, filled with hormones as he was, struck Celdryn as an entity who took courage from anger. And when things show themselves to be out of his hand, what would he do?

Transform into the wolf?

Rend the offending situation apart with supernatural fangs and claws?

Accept the beast inside to kill a monster?

Celdryn laughed quietly.

Lycus, on the other hand, was a true scion of the Hunting Grounds. He had the impulse of panther, the pride of a lion, and the wisdom of an ageless dragon. Certainly a combination designed for demi-gods, and Celdryn did not doubt the strength of Lycus' sword arm. His was the hand that conquered the blood jewels of the Empire after all, and he who dominated beasts and champion presented a legitimate threat, even if he didn't have Hircine's sponsorship. Lycus whispered to him too, during their confrontation. That when fate beckons, a man is helpless and he must oblige. Such rubbish! Celdryn scoffed. By allowing yourself to be chained by this aetherial concept, you would enslave yourself to a blank future, like a dog following after a blind master. No. Fate, destiny, these are the hallmark anesthetics the weak use to make themselves feel strong in the face of the unknown. The strong, on the other hand, piss on such beliefs, and carve their own path in the world. They die by what they have sown, not on some predetermined place on a predetermined time.

But Celdryn, for all of his contempt, gave the Imperial respect. For even a man like Celdryn understood the bare faculties of this world.

The other members of the blue group.... well. They were lethal in their own right. Kayla of the North had the blessing of Meridia, breaking the twilight dusk of the undead with that sword of hers. Elandine, with her arcane understanding of both the sword and magick, would prove to be a capable shield. Ylenno, the Florentine Bleeder, was a petty and infamous thug, but he had his bones nonetheless. The Redguard Tarrick was tame and humble compared to the others, but the Breton was sure his natural intuition would serve the group well when they were under.

He looked towards Nebraska. With such men and women as these protecting him, no matter how motley and colorful, his safety was practically guaranteed compared to the protection offered by the other groups. Trust was another matter entirely, as the lion in Celdryn caught the scent of uneasy wariness and a ripe desire for some explanations between them.

Celdryn crossed his arms over his chest, red eyes on the entrance.

Several nercenaries filed in, all of them wearing green armbands, filing in one after the other.

So, it has started.
******************************************************************************

Ylenno took a seat as he was bid, situating himself in the front row, nearest to the dais. Buffy and the others were at his back, and he had to turn around to talk to them properly were he to engage them in a quiet conversation. Which right now, he was really tempted to iniate. He had been studying Celdryn when the Breton in turn was examining the hall of its occupants, and came to several realizations. One, and the most obvious, was that Celdryn was danger and evil personified. Second, was that the Breton matched several descriptions of THE serial killer that was expunged from the 'official' annals of the Empire, descriptions taught to him by the Orcs during his time in Cheydinhal.

Only the most powerful syndicates in the world could have had access to the black file of the Blessed Devourer, a legendary criminal so vile he was hunted by other undesirables too. This butcher had escaped the full wrath of the Empire combined for a stunning streak of thirty five years, all the while killing people left and right. He wrote a book, the Liber Maledictum, detailling all the tactics he used to evade the hounds of justice for so long. And that was his legacy. His monumental gift to the underworld of society, his story passed down from killer to killer like stories from a holy book. No one knew what happened to him after the book was captured. The Orum Gang, when they established themselves as the sole rulers of Cheydinhal's underbelly, bribed an offical in the innards of the Empire into acquiring a copy of the book for them. It was probably the reason why they were still standing after all these years.

Looking at Celdryn, Ylenno wondered if the Breton was truly the Blessed Devourer of old. The red eyes of a hungry dragon, the golden armor of angel fallen, the axes of a godless armageddon, and being a son of High Rock... it all matched the descriptions of the cannibal that almost took half of Tamriel's population to a dark and grisly end.

But, surely it was impossible.

The reign of the Devourer happened seventy years ago after all.

And there was no way in Oblivion a man could live that long.

He turned to Buffy and Kayla, grave and stern-faced, an anathema from his usual jovial countenace.

"Sorry to eavesdrop on you beauties, but what with that creep in front of me, and no one else to talk to besides, I didn't have anything else to do. But listen, although you're probably aware of this by now, you do NOT want to be alone with that godsdamned freak. He gives you the goosebumps? That's nothing compared to what I suspect he is capable of. I've been thinking some things on the way here, and I do not like it one bit. Although I'm probably dead wrong, this Minan'Kherus fellow matches the description of-,"

From the open entrance of Atrium came the fashionably late Green group, filling in one after the other, their arrival also heralded by a clap from the Master of Adventurers. Ylenno looked towards the two female elves apologetically. I'll tell you later, he mouthed, as the final meeting finally began.

"And so we are complete," Oedipus boomed with the magnificence of a tuba. "No doubt you have checked everything you need for this Expedition, for although we may provide for what you miss, we would not be coming back to Anvil until we have completed our mandate below the Fort Sutch. I have talked with my colleagues and friends, and we have come to a decision to monitor our conjoint manpower with the two honorable Guilds of the Fighter and the Mage, making sure that your abilities are put to its best use! That is why we have you wearing those bands, for we shall establish rotating squads that shall delve and return from exploring the caves beneath when we arrive at Fort Sutch."

A grim shadow passed over Odeipus' face, and his countenace became more aged, more weary, more tired.

"This has been the recommended action that everyone has agreed on; and I have learned through bitterness that our sheer numbers could not conquer this mystery below. This is a time consuming process, yes, but I'd rather have you alive to share the glories with us than dead and sung about in songs, although some of you may find that in your liking."

He peered and searched through all of them.

"With the cooperation of the venerable establishment of the Horse Whisperer Stables, we shall all go to the Fort through horses and wagons. We depart for the grand adventure now, but if ou have questions, please, ask them right now. We shall busy in the coming days, after all."

Kayla leaned in towards Buffy. "I don't know what he's doing here, either, but he reeks of bad news." Kayla regarded the red-eyed Breton with her own brown eyes. Even had he not had red eyes, the way he carried himself reminded her of a predator waiting to strike. If Oedipus announced that Celdryn would not be joining them, she would be relieved.

Punctuating her thoughts, Ylenno turned around. The look on his face nearly mirrored the one earlier, sans the terror. His brow was pulled down, much different than the look she was used to.

"Sorry to eavesdrop on you beauties, but what with that creep in front of me, and no one else to talk to besides, I didn't have anything else to do. But listen, although you're probably aware of this by now, you do NOT want to be alone with that godsdamned freak."

Kayla shot Buffy a knowing look as Ylenno continued on.

"He gives you the goosebumps? That's nothing compared to what I suspect he is capable of. I've been thinking some things on the way here, and I do not like it one bit. Although I'm probably dead wrong, this Minan'Kherus fellow matches the description of-,"

The green group arrived, cutting off Ylenno. Kayla swore under her breath. She caught him mouthing he would tell them later, and she eyed the Breton warily. She then turned her attention to Oedipus. she wondered if her suspicions earlier were not unfounded. Though she mostly kept to herself during her trips, she welcomed the company of a group. They would have to discuss tactics, though. the more people tried to fight one enemy, the more difficult it was to keep each other from hurting another. In large groups such at this one, a plan of attack is ideal to come up with. Who stayed in front, who was support, even though the answer was obvious, it needed to be addressed. So no one got their roles mixed up.

Westley


"This night I will depart for the Fort. I have marked territories around the plains so that my distance won't be great during the nightly escapade. I am willing to share the glory of this night. Just this once. But you've been warned. The Prince has no patience for the fickle. You are given a choice. Don't spit upon an opportunity when presented."

Westley scowled "As much as I hate this, I'm not letting an opportunity like this slip away. I'd rather hunt than be hunted. But know this: I'm not going to enjoy one bit of this, and I'm hunting solely for the purpose of avoiding trouble. Not because I take glory in taking unwilling lives." Westley got up and moved to another part of the room, away from Lycus.

Edited. This was an April Fool's joke post. Discarded.

Lycus chose to ignore Westley's comment, or at least try to. It was clear the boy wouldn't let go of what life had in store for him and what he'd become. If he didn't hunt in honor, than what is hunting worth to him? Certainly not survival in itself but the avoidance of hurting those who's only error would be to cross his path. A deep, long sigh came from his nose as he lifted himself up to his feet. That is when Oedepius began to speak:

"And so we are complete. No doubt you have checked everything you need for this Expedition, for although we may provide for what you miss, we would not be coming back to Anvil until we have completed our mandate below the Fort Sutch. I have talked with my colleagues and friends, and we have come to a decision to monitor our conjoint manpower with the two honorable Guilds of the Fighter and the Mage, making sure that your abilities are put to its best use! That is why we have you wearing those bands, for we shall establish rotating squads that shall delve and return from exploring the caves beneath when we arrive at Fort Sutch."

Lycus' armor made a ruckus as he took a step, and gave himself a weapon check, making sure his sword and deadly Dwemer spear were all set. From what he's been told there will be other groups below, as Lycus initially suspected when he first set eyes on the distinct bands given to each of the members.

"This has been the recommended action that everyone has agreed on; and I have learned through bitterness that our sheer numbers could not conquer this mystery below. This is a time consuming process, yes, but I'd rather have you alive to share the glories with us than dead and sung about in songs, although some of you may find that in your liking."

Lycus didn't fear death. He would not have stories sung about him, not when there was one thing important for him to do. The only way to truly immortalize himself in this world if not by life-altering conditions. And he would make sure he survives this to see that one thing come to fruition.

Given the mages in his group, he did not need to rely on his stealth to dispatch his enemies. The Wood Elf seemed capable enough to bring down foes in her own from afar, and the rest could serve as shields. The stronger ones would be made to walk into the fray, but given the lack of their armor they would have to make up for it in speed.

"With the cooperation of the venerable establishment of the Horse Whisperer Stables, we shall all go to the Fort through horses and wagons. We depart for the grand adventure now, but if ou have questions, please, ask them right now. We shall busy in the coming days, after all."

Lycus was out of there. He passed into a broad, grand hall, lined with tall white columns. He traversed this with a march that only a giant of a man could make. Unlike some, he cared not for any perceived whispers of insult that came his way.

He was in a chamber extraodinary dimensions, whose golden walls rose to an ornate bright ceiling, shining with gold. He stopped to stare at this image, noticing it was carved by the talents of some mage or an intelligent builder. There were few places in number that could mimic the perfection of such thing.

He took long strides out to the exit and then into the open of the streets of Anvil. The scent of the coast reached his nose right away reminding him of his short nights in Hammerfell when he was yet a man chained to servitude. He stood there and waited.

Tonight he would hunt with a pup. Does Hircine curse him so? He'd rather be with a beloved woman who shared in the blood and spirit. But alas, he was alone now with only one thing in mind. Soon, he promised. After this task is finished I will return to Falkreath Hold.

Kayla blinked at Lycus as he walked away from the meeting. Has he lost his mind? He's not even waiting for someone to ask questions! She looked around to see if anyone else shared her surprise. She decided to ask her question.

"Oedipus, I'm not familiar with working in groups. Will our formations be discussed on the way, or will they be discussed now? Please excuse my idiocy, if it is seen as such. I did not want us to walk away with at least some questions. It would be prudent to have the physically weaker members defended by the stronger ones, of course, but as for plans of attack, will there be signals? Verbal commands? How are we going to approach this fort? How far in have your groups gotten?"

She took a breath. "Is Falmer the worst thing you've discovered in there?" She cut her eyes at the red-eyed Breton standing near Oedipus as if to say the man crawled from beneath the slime-covered rocks of a long-forgotten ruin and latched himself onto the famous explorer. She couldn't help but to feel an almost overwhelming sense of animosity at the man who brushed his foul lips against her golden hand. It wasn't that she was an Altmer, and he a human. Kayla cared nothing about that.

The way he looked at people was not normal. He looked at them..hungrily. That didn't sit well with her. It wasn't even in such a way that made her believe he would make any unwanted advances on her. It was darker than that. And Kayla would protect Buffy from that as well as she could.