Salyan

The Altmer gave her a smile and when she informed Salyan that the seat was free, the bard sat, placing plate and goblet on the table and sliding her lyre beneath the bench. She had a Nordic accent, Salyan noted, a strange thing to hear from an altmer, and Salyan would not be surprised if there was a story behind that.

"Thank you," she said. "It's slaughterfish, yes; I'm thinking the poor fishermen must have risked their necks a lot to get enough for all the customers who want it today."

She was looking forward to the dish, actually; the closest they had to Slaughterfish at home was rubbery baliwog meat, and that was nowhere near as good as the plate of fresh-caught fish luxuriating in the rich, creamy sauce she had before her.

"I'm Salyan, by the way," she added.

“Any ideas where we might go hunting?” Darnand asked.

Kayla joined them at the table, and Aravi was glad she missed the story behind what had happened with her and Darnand. I should have gone inside like she did. She honestly didn’t know what she was thinking, and in the process she made Darnand look like a fool. I didn’t know he was attracted to me… She blinked at the thought.

She came back to the present and returned Kayla’s greeting. Then she addressed Darnand and Abiene.

“You both are going through this effort for me; I hope you will allow me to provide what money you need for this.”

A newcomer looking for a place to sit appeared. Aravi smiled at her, Salyan and introduced the table quickly. "Pleased to meet you, I am Aravi." Then she gestured to the Altmer and the two Bretons. "That's Kayla, and they are Darnand and Abiene."

Before she could lose her thought, she addressed Darnand's question. “I had somewhere in mind actually. It’s in Skyrim, but not far from the border. It is an extensive network of caves that the locals call ‘Lost Knife Hideout.’ There should be all manner of creatures in there to soul trap.”

She looked at Kayla. “Want to go back to Skyrim?”

Kayla could barely contain her excitement. Her eyes grew wide and she grabbed Aravi's furred hands.

"YES! Oh, sorry." She said to Aravi as her ears flattened slightly at her sudden exclamation. Kayla thought her heart would explode from joy. She liked being in Cyrodiil, she truly did, but she was a Nord at heart, despite her Altmer body. she missed the chill, the fires, the furs. She missed the way the snow glistened off the leaves in the mornings.

In Cyrodiil, she wasn't sure how to dress, how to act. In Skyrim, she was in her element.

Before Salyan felt left out, she turned back to the Imperial and smiled. "I'm from Skyrim, and I've been gone from it for nearly a year. I miss it so much. Where are you from?"

"A pleasure to meet you all," Salyan said briefly after Aravi made her introductions. She took a few bites of her meal as the khajiit mentioned plans for an expedition of some kind in Skyrim.

Salyan blinked in surprise as Kayla started at the suggestion, the altmer absolutely ecstatic at the suggestion, though once she gave the reason as to why it made Salyan. And then she asked her a difficult question; where was she from?

Mentally, she scrabbled for an answer; announcing that she had lived most of her life in a daedric realm to these strangers, welcoming as they were, was a bad idea, but trying to evade the question would look suspicious.

After a moment's hesitation, she said; "I'm from Skingrad, originally, but I travel a lot, and don't usually stay in one place for long. I work as a bard, you see, so it's the best way for me to find work."

Aravi thought Kayla would be happy to go, but she didn’t anticipate the volume. She’s definitely Nord.

After some hesitation, Salyan shared where she was from. Aravi wondered what she wasn’t sharing, but didn’t intrude.

Aravi decided to share, not where she was from, but where she lived now. “Like Kayla, I live in Skyrim. I haven’t been gone from it as long as she has been though.” Mere days actually.

Abiene gave the blue-eyed Imperial a warm smile as she joined them at the table. Aravi’s offer of funds had her mentally accelerating their schedule even as they introduced themselves to Salyan.

Aravi had a plan for filling some gems. “Want to go back to Skyrim?” she asked. Kayla’s joyful assent made Abiene jump in her seat.

Darnand’s eyes were on hers as he answered Aravi. “As it happens I am already packed for such a journey.”

Abiene reached out and squeezed his hand. “Thank you,” she murmured. Darnand’s last trip to Skyrim had included far too much excitement if one could believe his telling. Jerric seemed to have enjoyed every moment, except perhaps a few of the weeks he had spent in prison. She wondered if he would join them.

“Do you plan to stay long in County Chorrol?” Abiene asked Salyan.

Darnand turned to Kayla and Aravi. “I have a mount at the Priory. How much time will we need before we depart?”

Surely at least a day or two, Abiene thought. Please. Don’t go so soon.

She lifted her chin, determined that her smile wouldn’t falter.

“Do you plan to stay long in County Chorrol?”

"I'll be staying for however long I wish, really," Salyan said in answer to Abiene's question. "I usually work in one area for a few weeks to raise some coin and collect some stories and songs, then move on again to somewhere else."

Something about the discussion the group was having seemed to have unnerved or unsettled Abiene, and Salyan couldn't help but feel a little curious, both about why she was upset and exactly what it was they had planned for this trip to Skyrim.

"If you don't mind me asking," she said. "What exactly is it that you're planning to do in Skyrim?"

“How much time will we need before we depart?” Darnand asked.

“I wouldn’t want to leave before the end of the festival,” Aravi replied. “I can be ready to leave in less than an hour otherwise.” She looked at Kayla, “When would you like to go?”

She heard Salyan ask what they were planning. Aravi thought for a moment. The details were personal and she didn’t want to get into them with her friends, much less this Imperial that she had never met before. She didn’t want to be rude either.

“Abiene and Darnand are doing some research for me. It happens that they need a lot of magicka to accomplish it, so we are going to Skyrim and capturing that magicka in soul gems.”

There was only one way to capture magicka in soul gems that Salyan knew of, and just by looking at Kayla and Aravi it was obvious that they were skilled in it; their athletic physiques and the scars that they sported were marks of people well familiar with combat. Darnand seemed to be going with them, which seemed an odd thing considering he didn't look like much of a fighter, more of the studious type. Then again, he could be a mage, and it would make sense they would bring him along.

"Sounds exciting," Salyan said, taking a sip of her wine. "The stuff of my most popular stories and songs, really, the small band of heroes venturing far from home in order to do battle and win great treasures. Maybe it's just filling soul gems in this case, but the principal is the same."

Her plate cleared, she glanced up at the stage, where the current act looked to be drawing to a close.

"I think it's time for me to ply my trade again," she said. She looked back over at the others. "Any requests?"

Abiene smiled her agreement with Salyan, though she cringed inside. Fulfilling Aravi’s hopes would begin with violence. In the past she might have turned away from the unsavory details. Now she braced herself to face the cost.

She wondered if Salyan wrote her own songs. Before she could ask the bard spoke.

“I think it's time for me to ply my trade again,” she said. She looked back over at the others. “Any requests?”

Abiene waited a moment before speaking up. “Perhaps something that you enjoy playing?” she suggested. “If it’s appropriate to ask, I’d like to hear one of your favorite songs.”

Maybe the pelting rain of last week got to him, and he was simply under the weather? Maybe drinking twenty bottles of cheap wine straight finally eroded his legendary resistance and he was having, and he thinks of this as absolutely terrifying, a hangover?

Maybe that horse-riding challenge with the gangly Breton girl (and the private 'riding lesson' afterwards) had gripped him with unfamiliar fatigue? It was a sudden challenge after all, made when they both eyeballed each other and came to the conclusion of testing each other.

Or, maybe he catched something from her. She had the look of a night-walker after all.

That would be the day, Ylenno thought ruefully. The Cavefish Shanker finally dulled.

Whatever it was that ailled him, the prancing elf saw things... dull. And stale. And unfunny.

In fact, he saw things quite tragically; there were no colors in the world, and all had turned into a sepia depression. It was as if he was simply a watcher, not an actor in the world. Gone was his trademark mirth that could and would explode at any moment's notice. Nor would his braying laughter accompany that easy smirk on his moist, luscious lips. And the worse thing about this.... gray disease was that it bereaved him the usual luster when maintaining his hair! Ylenno couldn't believe it himself, when mulling his sudden deadness over. The Florentine Bleeder, not taking care of his hair. The world was truly in the time of ending.

So.

He went out to cheer himself with the only choice left to him, now that all other attempts at raising himself up failed.

He went out to find trouble.

If you're feeling down, beat someone up, is what he use to say when confronted with a striking boredom that can't be shook off. He went down the rougher parts of Chorrol, all by his lonesome, swaggering about and daring anyone to go try him. He inspected the cheap bars and inns for any good brawling specimens, and he even went up the Fighters Guild to stir stuff up. But alas, this ailment had sunk its fangs very deep in Ylenno and during those fights, he found himself just... going through the motions. Like he was dead. His burning passion, the thrill and validation he felt when iniating violence against his fellow man was... simply... gone. He took no joy smashing jaws, no happiness in pistoning guts, and no mischievious mirth striking them where the sun don't shine.

It eventually got to the point when, during a particular fistfight with a tough dunmer called Modryn Oreyn, he simply wrung his hands and stood numbly, letting the other elf batter him without consequence nor rancor. When he was all bloodied up (Ylenno got to hand it with the old timer; guy was good and freakishly powerful) and laying bruised and broken on the pavement, he rolled to his back and stared at the sky, wondering what the hell was going on with him. The dunmer spat at him, deriding him as a soft-bellied goatlover, and Ylenno in turn just gave him... a noncommitant rude gesture.

He numbly counted his wounds that day. Broken ribs, fractured elbow, battered knuckles, dislocated nose, a large black eye on his right, two missing teeth, cracked jaw and several cuts and bruises. Plus, blood. Anybody who would see his condition would say that he either got jumped by eighty raging Orcs or fell down a cliff like a boneless ragdoll, such was the extent of his injuries.

It didn't matter to Ylenno, anyway; as a vain rogue, he knew some mythical and extremely secretive techniques that would heal all of his wounds and make him all the more roguish and handsome for it, so he wasn't really concerned about his appearance. This was so unlike him, that one of his usual brawl-mates, an Argonian by the name of Lumpy, urged him to the Chapel and cure whatever it was that finally put the infamous Florentine Bleeder down. Even in such a vegetative state, Ylenno openly scoffed and balked at such a suggestion.

No gods, no demons, only me.

But since he had nothing better to do, he decided that he might as well visit the place and check out the local nuns. There was a particular lay sister that he spied once, and she was a beautiful Breton with the most manhood-raising accent he ever heard. Her name was Leliana, if memory serves. A young one, too, what with her grim, yet alluring contriteness and boyishly cut short hair. He found her lighting some candles near the altar, whispering some verses as she did so. He remained in the shadows, and simply watched her.

Eventually she felt his presence, and while her first reaction was to be creeped out, but it was replaced by an immediate fussing over at his wounds. Yep, he thought. Too young. They engaged in small-talk, Leliana reprimanding Ylenno of his foolishness, and Ylenno reprimanding Leliana of her virginity and an offer to rectify it. She would've slapped him, she said, silent laughter in her eyes, but his face was already a sorry sight, so he was off the hook. Then she asked him if he was going to the festival happening just outside the gates. This was news to Ylenno, but he figured that this was to be expected. He spent the nights roaming for fights, and the days knocked out or in his rented room, battered and bloodied so any news would've missed him.

He shrugged. He figured he could check that one out, maybe even meet a cute face or eight....

****************


And that was how he found himself in a sea of choking madness and outrageous noise. If he had been himself, he would've been at the forefront of this festival, bashing heads and drinking wine and then passing out, and then do it all over again. He simply shook his head and wandered the festival, looking around him with dull interest. There was some trouble going on between an Imperial (this hulking half-naked man seemed familiar, for some reason), a Khajiit and a gigantic Nord, there was mud pit where people wrestled.

He supposed the Inn itself would be comparatively subdued than the chaos outside, and there were bound to be passable serving wenches inside.

So he went in, and walked towards the bar.

He paused in mid-stride. He retraced his footsteps, walking backwards. He then did a double take.

A slow, a very very slow grin crept in his face. It threatened to rip his damaged face apart. He just stood there for ten minutes, smilling widely at a particular table that sat a cast of eating people. One of those people was very much familiar to Ylenno. A pair of Argonians that sat next to him shifted uncomfortably in their seats as Ylenno continued to stand there, smilling like a loon, looking for all intents and purposes like a psychopath on the loose.

He then began to walk very slowly towards his eyes' target, and gone was the Ylenno that bore a burden inside him. This Ylenno that walked had all of his familiar cockiness, a very challenging swagger in his steps, all movements meant to draw eyes on him. He still had that smile on his face when he finally neared them. All of his attention was focused on Kayla, the Altmer from the Nord with that sexy accent of hers.

He waited for a lull in their conversation, and then with the grace only he has, introduced himself, Ylenno-style.

"Kayla! Of all the places to see that ugly face of yours, I find it here, in the arse end of nowhere!"

He turned to the others at the tabel, and he flashed them his trademark grin while pointing a dislocated thumb at Kayla.

"I used to low-kick this woman at the back of her knees and tease her about her brooding boy-toy! Haw-haw-haw, I'm Ylenno by the way. Ylenno Sasalonia! And me and this snowrod go way back!”

Kayla frowned, then squinted her eyes at the Bosmer yelling at her.

Oh...oh no way...

Only one person she knew walked that way. She'd know that swagger from miles away. The jutted chin, the gleam in his eyes, and not only that, but they stood head to head. he was easily the tallest Bosmer she'd ever known, most only coming chest-high to her. When she had mentioned this, he'd said something about being the perfect height for looking at all the important things. She couldn't remember. Her Cyrodiliic had been worse than it was now.

She grinned and jumped up, but her foot caught the bench table and she fell backwards. She grunted, but recovered herself and jumped at Ylenno and hugged him tightly.

"You! Hi!"

She grinned at him and kissed his cheek, as Cyrodilians were wont to do.

"My ugly face? You look like a troll tried to bed you and succeeded! What have you been up to since Anvil?

Though Ylenno had been a source of irritation at times, he was also a familiar face. she knew he could get himself out of a scrap, and by the looks of it, he'd been in quite a few since they'd last seen each other. She wanted to catch up, tell him about what happened earlier. She knew he'd tease her mercilessly about it. She welcomed his barbed jests.

It was nice to see an old friend.

Abiene

That’s the tallest Bosmer I’ve ever seen, Abiene marveled as Kayla picked herself up off the ground.

Jerric approached looking slightly battered, much cleaner, surprisingly sober, and very grim.

“I’ll take my leave,” he muttered before Abiene could speak, bending to kiss her cheek and take a deep sniff of her hair. He stuck his hand down the front of her top to retrieve his pendant. She handed him his ring. Then Jerric gripped Darnand’s arm and hoisted him off the bench. “Breton, a word.”

The two stepped away and engaged in a brief discussion that looked as heated as it was nearly silent. Jerric jerked his head in the direction of Weynon Priory. Darnand nodded back toward the table. They finished by exchanging scowls over clasped hands. Darnand turned on his heel and strode back to the group. Jerric disappeared into the crowd.

Abiene straightened her dress.

“The Nord will not be joining us,” Darnand said, seating himself. He picked up his wine. “He expresses his regrets.”

Abiene glanced at Aravi and gave her a little shrug.

“That was a dear friend, Jerric Kjellingsson,” she said to Sethyas. “I wish I could have introduced you. But… Well, that’s how he is.”

Darnand snorted into his goblet. “He was uncertain as to the extent of his present commitment. As you saw, it was unplanned.” He pressed Abiene’s hand with his under the table. Do not concern yourself, he might have spoken aloud. She had heard it all before.

Abiene pulled her hand away and lifted her wine. “I would love to hear a little music,” she said.

The man was close. Too close. So close that she could practically feel the burning desire radiating off his skin. That lust-powered desperation.

She expected this much. From their brief conversation on the subject of love she knew he was simply itching to be with a beautiful young woman ever since his sob story about being forever alone. In his mind he must have seen her as the answer to his problems.

She wanted nothing to do with him. He was a small but relatively known figure near Chorrol and she wouldn’t associate with him in any way other than small talk. Sleeping with him was out of the question even if she was remotely attracted to him.

Irvana moved slightly to the corner to show her disinterest, and he noticed this and made her efforts vain by continuing to approximate himself.

“You’re beautiful, Irvana. You have this . . . aura about you. I can’t put my finger on it.” The horse-owner said as he placed his hand over her leg, forcing his chair closer to her own.

“Not when you can place your entire hand,” she said suddenly. “I apologize if I ever gave you the impression I was interested. I’m not.”

“I am.”

There was an expression on her face that told him bluntly that she wasn’t that type of woman. “I must go,” she muttered as she climbed to her feet. “Farewell.”

His hand reached out to grab her by the arm and he tugged at her forcefully. “You don’t want to do that.” He said to her, and she turned around to see him staring angrily at her.

She pulled back with all her force and hurried off into the crowd to find a face she was more familiar with. With the bug musk, the seeds had already been planted and everything had been set.

Now, all that remained was getting to know more individuals or more about them. Among the crowd were people she knew; Draken was socializing with just about everyone, mostly women. Kayla was embraced by a man she never had seen before and Abiene . . . Abiene was alone with Aravi and a dark elf and a Breton.

She took the opportunity to flee from the sight of kiss-ups and desperate men to seat amongst more calm company. She approached behind Abiene enough to hear her say she wanted to listen to some music.

Irvana maneuvered around Abiene to the side where she the entire table could see her and not just Aravi and the two men. “The troubadours from the Summerset Isles have begun to play again,” she said cheerfully. “I might have helped inspire them.”

She looked at the blue-eyed Imperial . . . girl? Yes, it was a girl. She struck Irvana as a bard right away, and had the black-haired Imperial clasping her hands together. "Oh! Hello there!"

“Perhaps something that you enjoy playing? If it’s appropriate to ask, I’d like to hear one of
your favorite songs.”

That was a tricky question; her personal favourite, a piece by the name of 'Soul of a Harper' was a song written by someone on the Isles, and while she enjoyed it, the subject matter it contained, that of disembowelment and torture, would probably not go down well here.

"I think I know just the piece," Salyan said.

In the next moment, she saw what must have been the tallest bosmer she had ever seen, both on Nirn and in the Isles. He greeted Kayla with a sort of hyperactive ecstasy, and the Altmer seemed equally delighted, if not quite as restrained, in greeting him. Glancing at the stage, which was beginning to clear, Salyan decided that introduction would have to wait for later.

As she was about to go, a graceful Imperial woman with dark hair stopped her, seeming to be some acquaintance of theirs. She looked familiar, and it took Salyan a moment to place her; the Imperial who had ousted the Summerset Isles violinist.

"Hello!" Salyan returned back with a smile. "You were the violinist from earlier, were you not? I heard you play; it was amazing!"

She glanced back at the stage and saw a group of Elves about to climb up onto it. She recognised them, the group of buffoons who had a butcher for a violinist.

"I really don't want to sound rude," she said. "But I was hoping to play this set, and those Summerset troubadours are back. I'd rather not lose this slot out to them, of all people."

With a nodding bow of apology, she hurried to the stage. She shoved past the elves, and was stopped as one of them pressed a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey," the offending elf said. "This is our set."

"You already had one," Salyan said. "Besides, do you really want to let him back on the stage?" This was accompanied with a nod to the violinist.

"What is with everyone today?" the altmer protested, expression a balancing act between rage and heartbreak.

"Look, you've had your turn, let me have mine," Salyan said.

"Or what, lyre girl?"

"Or else," Salyan said, leaning in. "I will break that stupid lute you carry over your thick skull. Now get lost."

At the same moment, she plucked a string of her instrument, lacing the noise into a fear spell. It was a mean trick, but she wanted to play and she knew she could do a better job than this band of jesters. The elf cringed and stepped back.

"Fine," he said. "Take it, you damn lunatic."

Salyan smiled, and stepped onto the stage. Pulling a stool up, she pulled her lyre out of its case, strummed the strings briefly to double-check they were still all in tune, and began to play.

Serene

"He's a vampire!!" the thought appeared loud and clear in her mind. She glanced at Seth, apparently he'd "heard" her, because he rised his eyebrows in disbelief, but then he slowly nodded...

Anyway the vampire suddenly left, which was a relief. Vamps who could stand broad daylight were unusual, but she had some deep memory of actually meeting one of them.

She shrugged and tried to focus on the people around the table...

"Funny thing, being in such a crowd and yet...being totally alone"

Nobody took any notice of her so she decided to play a little game....a mind-game

She focussed on one and each...slowly going into their minds reading their thoughts, nobody noticed anything, they were too occupied...that also made it more difficult to get a good reading..

"- Welkynd stones...."
"-Hunting..."
""-music..", someone wanted music

A young girl who just arrived turned out to be a bard, the extremely beautiful Imperial was a violinist

"Irvana, her mind is dark...need to get in deeper..."

BANG! Like an arrow, Seth's voice boomed in her head

"STOP IT Renie! Stop it NOW! You don't know these people...you can't just barge into their heads..because that's EXACTLY what you're doing just now, right?"

She just looked the other way and focussed on the music, had no intention to stop the little game..just do it in another way

"Nobody will notice, absolutely nobody"

Aravi’s ears flicked when she heard another voice booming through the inn. A short Altmer… No, that’s a Bosmer, she realized with surprise, was the source. Kayla jumped awkwardly and managed to flop to the ground. She wasn’t bothered in the slightest, and hugged the newcomer.

Aravi decided to introduce herself to Ylenno. “I’m Aravi. When did you meet Kayla?” Is he from Skyrim as well? she wondered.

She looked over to Abiene and Darnand and saw Jerric was talking with Darnand. She soon learned that Jerric was leaving. I hardly got to see him. Her spirits dampened somewhat. She remembered his expression. She didn’t see him like that very often but it was usually bad when he was. He didn’t even want Darnand with him, she realized.

Abiene gave her a shrug. She’s not worried… She felt a little less stressed.

Irvana appeared at their table. Aravi couldn’t help but feel a little claustrophobic. It was unusual for her to be in a group of this size. It’s usually just me and Kharjo.

A sharp pain when through her tail and she hissed quietly. Some drunk behind her stepped on it with his heavy boots as he wobbled past. She curled her tail around her chair and rested it in her lap. She rubbed it with a hand to ease the pain.

Darnand

Salyan began to play. Darnand tried to focus on the music and shut out the annoying hum in his head.

Abiene spoke softly at his side. “I bought a few things for Valdi today. She’s at the beggar’s camp in Chorrol. If I don’t get a chance, will you..?”

Darnand felt it again, an unwelcome presence prying at the edges of his mind. He chuckled to himself, grateful for his training.

Abiene let out a small whimper. “I feel…” She pressed her fingers against her closed eyes.

“Abiene?”

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I feel quite unwell.” She looked up at him with a wavering smile. A drop of blood trickled down from one nostril.

“Apologies,” Darnand said to the group, gathering up their belongings. He stood and lifted Abiene to her feet. “Do you suppose you are still suffering from the poison?” he murmured.

“No,” she whispered back. “This is some sort of assault. A rape of the conscious mind. Who would do such a thing?”

Darnand could think of several types who would attempt to learn his secrets, but it seemed that someone had scanned both of them. “Perhaps a blackmailer hoping for a lucky catch.” In this crowd it could be anyone. They might not even have a purpose. The thought that someone might casually violate a stranger’s privacy like a window-peeper out to amuse themselves made his stomach turn. Most folk lack defenses, and even fewer are sensitive. The rest would never know.

“I’ll be in Abiene’s chamber, if you should like to meet later,” Darnand said to Aravi. “If we are not there it means we returned to Chorrol. To the guild hall.” He wiped Abiene’s nose with the edge of his sleeve. Kayla was still occupied with the Bosmeri giant. “Madame Velas. Sera,” he said to the couple.

“Irvana,” Abiene began, but he got her moving toward the stairs.

Vera sat on the edge of the bed of her room, wearing nothing but a roughspun tunic that covered her entire body. She was full from the food, and still quite sober. She wouldn’t have any wine or brandy dull her senses, especially now with the fact that one of the tavern’s patrons knows what she truly is capable of.

Though she tried to trust Abiene, something in the back of her head told her otherwise. A pessimistic feeling that someone else might end up discovering. To clear her mind from worry and boredom she decided to analyze and inspect her gear. Someone had to put her to good use; she might as well do things herself.

The lower floor of the tavern created a cacophony, from the clanking and clashing of cups and tankards to loud laughter and music.

Arrayed along the bed were her working tools; vials of poisons, arrows, a few daggers, a handful of throwing stars, a bow, old bolts and a crossbow. Aside from these there was Lycus’ shortsword which he allowed her to take possession of. She wasn’t as extraordinary as he was with the blade, but she could handle her own if the odds weren’t against her and there had been many, many times where they weren’t always in her favor.

Numerous times the job turned out to be an ambush planned by men and women who held a grudge on the free-lance mercenary due to her previous works. Either throwing some deadbeat or drug-lord in jail or killing a man wanted for murder. Sometimes her work has a dead end, sometimes things didn’t always go as planned even despite her best efforts. In the end, it didn’t matter. Coin was coin and her job paid well.

She had not reached the top of the mercenary trade without constructing a web of business interests and contacts, some of them-if not most-totally oblivious of one another. Many of these men might have been stupid enough to believe that by paying her a generous retainer, they had thereby secured her exclusive services. Vera could tell of a person’s intelligence by that alone. No mercenary could be trusted. Not even her.

The live ones are usually worth more than the dead ones. That was her general rule of hunting bounties. There had been occasions where one individual ordered the death of another who had hired her services. If the pay was good enough, then there was no issue. Business was business after all. She learned not to take things personally, not when others tried to have her killed as well for putting a dent in their clandestine efforts.

The last unpaid task of hers was in a cavern full of the undead. Though somewhat sporting, it wasn’t beneficial to her other than only giving her some activity to do. A dangerous job with a high-paying employer was something she was craving right about now. Like a skooma addict who has been long without a drink, or a person who's held their piss for quite long enough. She still was looking to get back in the fray for just awhile longer.

Gods know I need the gold.

Irvana was hit with something. Not something physical, no, but something intrusive. Unwanted. It was a disturbance was powerful enough to make someone of her caliber feel distraught. There was a hum that throbbed in her mind, something drilling itself into it but yet unable to pierce the vast mist within.

A look of uncertainty passed on Irvana's face soon after the bard woman left to play her song.

Something isn't right.

Abiene must have felt it too, for she began to rub her eyes as if having a headache. She explained she was unwell, and that moment Irvana's eyes widened to see blood trickle down her nose. The tell-tale signs of the tamperment of the mind, evidence of magic at work. Conjurers who had a link with each other's minds could communicate from afar. The long-extinct Dwemer, using the Calling or telepathy, could also achieve such a feat.

She thought it an unused skill, much like the invasion of one's spirit upon another's soul. In the ancient times the soul or spirit transfer could be done by the deceased—a leap into the consciousness of one who is alive— things had changed since then, since teachings had been sabotaged, the technique seemingly lost. Irvana knew somewhere out there are individuals capable of still making such a thing happen.

Now, mind-reading is something entirely different and dangerous. The talk of poisoning, while caught her interest, was gone when Abiene was guided by her friend.

"This is some sort of assault. A rape of the conscious mind. Who would do such a thing?”

Irvana's eyes narrowed. Who would, indeed, do such a thing?

Those nearby were the most likely. So she glanced at each and everyone with an expression of fear and worry of Abiene on her face while she also took the chance to take in their faces. Telepathy required focus.

Kayla was occupied with a bosmeri fellow.

No. She isn't the one.

Aravi seemed peeved about something, and she rubbed her tail, looking overwhelmed.

It wasn't her either.

Her eyes looked to a dark-haired imperial woman with eyes unlike any other. Irvana's immediete suspicion was of her, for earlier she seemed to concentrate on members of the table without directly speaking to them, or when they weren't talking themselves.

Irvana cast a gaze around the tavern and looked back at Abiene as she said her name and headed to the stairs.

With true concern over what happened, she followed behind Abiene and the Breton to the stairs. "I'll accompany you."

Aravi heard Darnand and Abiene whispering together. She couldn’t tell what they said, nor was she particularly interested. Damn that man! she seethed in her mind. Her tail had a steady, painful throb now.

Suddenly, Darnand’s voice was in her ear. He and Abiene were leaving. Abiene looked unwell. What’s happening?

She had some details she wanted to discuss still. Darnand and Abiene were leaving, with Irvana trailing them. Kayla was still with the Bosmer. Maybe I’ll have to take care of this and inform them later. She didn’t really like doing that.

She excused herself from the table, still clutching her painful tail, and passed the stage where Salyan was playing. Instead of going upstairs, she paused and listened to the music. It was wonderful, and Aravi felt somewhat calmer. I wonder where she learned to play?

There was a purity in performance. In combining song and spell into one entity. Arcane energies, invisible to the naked eye, began to flow from Salyan's fingers as she plucked the first notes of the melody, channelling her magicka into the tune.

She winced briefly as she felt something brush across her mind, a flitting, curious shadow, nearly enough to break her concentration, but she ignored it. She had had more ferocious hecklers than that curious sensation. As she came to the right moment, she began to sing.

"Far over the Jerall Mountains rise
Leave us standing upon the height
What was before we see once more
Is our home in distant light"

Around her, as she cast the spell she used for calling up images and pictures, ephemeral and spectral snowflakes began to fall across the cage, fluttering down like moth wings from thin air. White mist softened the air around her, visible but intangible, called by the empyreal energies lacing the song. Those near her, until now largely uncaring for yet another bard, turned in her direction, curious about the sudden appearance of snow. An argonian tried to catch one of the flakes, only for it to pass right through her hand.

"World-Throat mountain beneath the moon
The words unspoken, we'll be there soon
For home a song that echoes on
And all who find us will know the tune"

The verse was accompanied by images of peaks and crags pressing through the faint fog, a mountain range in a bridal veil of cloud and snow.

“Some folk we never forget
Some kind we never forgive
Haven't seen the back of us yet
We'll fight as long as we live”

As these were sung, the image of a fluttering banner appeared, sporting an axe; the Song of the Jerall Mountains was originally composed by skalds of the Companions, a record of the quest of several of the mercenaries to retrieve a fragment of Ysgramor’s axe.

“All eyes on the hidden pass
Through the Jerall Mountains borne
We'll ride in the gathering storm
Until we find our long-missed home”

The image changed to that of a snow-bound valley, shadowy and indistinct figures walking through the white powder with heavy steps, fatigued yet determined in the face of the cold and the harsh weather.

“We lay under the Jerall Mountains cold
In slumbers deep, and dreams of gold
We must awake, up arms we take
And in the darkness a torch we hold

The images changed, the figures trekking through forests, over rivers and streams, shadowed constantly by the peaks overhead. At the final line, a torch in the hand of the leading Companion-figure became the setting sun on a mountain.

“From long ago when lanterns burned
Until this day our hearts have yearned
Her loss was hard, the Wuuthrad-shard
What was stolen must be returned”

Here, the illusory picture became a picture of battle against undead, draugr of Skyrim, of an axe shard, of the darkness of a great tomb that had to be braved.

“We must awake and make the day
To find a song for heart and soul”

A black storm cloud descended upon the shadowy Companions, a blizzard whipping at them while indistinct, predatory forms swooped and dived and bit at them.

”Some folk we never forget
Some kind we never forgive
Haven't seen the end of it yet
We'll fight as long as we live”

“All eyes on the hidden pass
To the Jerall Mountains borne
We'll ride in the gathering storm
Till we find our long-missed home

These final images there most extreme, the Companions surrounded, battling against vague forms of draugr and other monsters, the warriors standing together with their banner raised high even in the face of the overwhelming power of the horde. Swords and axes swung in time with the song's rhythm, and at the climax of the verses an illusory arrow of remarkably realistic quality flew from the bow of a shadow archer and sped towards the audience, causing the front row to jump back in surprise.

"Far away from Jerall Mountains cold.”

The final picture was of the travellers crossing a ridge, before them stretching the green land of Skyrim. As Salyan finished the perfomance, the image faded with the cut of supporting magicka. She was exhausted, drained by the expenditure of arcane energy in one go.

For a few longs moments, the tavern was quiet, before someone began to clap. In a few moments, there was applause from the crowd, and on shaky legs Salyan rose and bowed. There were a few yells for an encore, and Salyan raised a hand to try and calm them.

"Later, my friends," she said out to them. "My supplies of magicka are all but gone; if I played now then you would get a much more lacklustre show from my next song."

She took another bow, and as she stepped off the stage, she couldn't resist giving the altmer whose slot she had usurped a grin.

"Good luck following that!" she called over the noise of the tavern.

Aravi was caught off guard when images started appearing as Salyan sang and played. Her jaw dropped. That’s amazing!

She watched and listened as the bard sang and showed familiar mountains. This soothed and calmed her, and she felt a longing to walk the path up to the Throat of the World.

Next came a familiar banner. The Companions. Her heartbeat raised at this image. She thought of the terrible curse that she received, willingly, from them.

She saw and listened as the figures traveled through the wilderness, then fought a grand battle against undead and monsters. Even the weather beset the Companions. An arrow flew towards them, and Aravi jumped.

The performance ended with another image of the land of Skyrim. Home.

Beautiful. She joined the applause.

She waited for Salyan to step off the stage and intercepted her. “That was so beautiful! Thank you very much for playing that song. The illusions were stunning, where did you learn to do that? Have you been to Skyrim?”

She realized she was gushing. Her ears flattened to the sides a little in her embarrassment. “Sorry, I’m sure you’re tired after that.”

Then she realized she was holding her tail still.

Salyan smiled and blushed a little at the flow of questions and praise Aravi poured on her when the khajiit cut her off in the tavern's crowds. She was holding her tail as well, for some reason, which surprised Salyan a little bit.

Wouldn't that hurt? she thought.

"I've learnt a type of magic that lets me sing and cast spells," Salyan said, giving as brief an explanation as she could. "Though I just got the pictures from some old atlases I've read; I've never been to Skyrim, not yet."

She glanced around the tavern.

"If we can sit down somewhere, I can give you a bit more detail, if you'd like," she said.

Abiene

Salyan began to sing.

Abiene halted on the lowest step with Darnand standing floor level at her side. She slipped her arm across his shoulders without thinking.

Abiene’s favorite singers were all men, but within the song’s first few bars Salyan had surpassed them. She sang at a lower pitch than most women, and her voice possessed the warm resonance that readily evoked an emotional response in listeners. Abiene leaned against her friend, transported by Salyan’s performance.

Snowflakes began to fall within the tavern. “Oh,” Abiene breathed.

“An illusion..?” Darnand murmured. They stood in quiet companionship as the scenes unfolded before their eyes, made all the more captivating by the stirring music.

There was a stunned silence as the last noted faded. Then the audience erupted into applause.

Abiene saw Aravi move to speak with the bard. I must warn her, Abiene realized. She quickly quelled the thought that tried to follow. And the other.

Darnand’s arm tightened around her waist.

“Wait,” said Abiene. Irvana had followed them to the stairs. “Irvana, I apologize for leaving the table as soon as you arrived. I’m not feeling well. May I introduce my dear friend, Darnand Penoit of Anvil? Darnand, this is Irvana.” She knew that sounded abrupt but was at a loss as to how else to introduce her. Mentioning the vampire attack hardly seemed appropriate. “We met a short time ago here at the Goblet,” she managed.

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” said Darnand. He practically lifted her up a step to get her moving.

Abiene felt another tickle in her sinuses. She cast a spell to heal the damage before her nose could bleed any more. The door to Vera’s chamber was closed, as were most along the corridor. This is not the time, Abiene thought. Not while I have company.

“I wonder if Jerric would have seen the images,” Darnand said. He unlocked the door and eased her into the chamber. “He might have absorbed the spell.”

“Mmm,” said Abiene. “I’ll just splash my face with some cool water. It’s not exactly Restoration magic, but it often makes me feel better.” She gave Darnand a smile as she walked to the basin.

Salyan seemed unperturbed of her rush of questions, and even blushed a little. Aravi felt a little less embarrassed, though she still held her tail. She let it go, and was careful to keep it off the floor.

"I'm surprised you haven't been there, the images you conjured were so vivid! I would like to sit and discuss it more with you, but I need to go upstairs. How about I'll come find you when I come back down?"

Aravi climbed the stairs and found the room she was looking for. Here it is. Vera's room. She knocked gently on the door and waited for an answer.

Ylenno grinned despite the pain that spark up when Kayla hugged him. Skyrim seriously lent her sons and daughters strength of arms, As they embraced, Ylenno's nostrils picked up a residual scent he once had certain experiences with. Though it had been years, the tantalizing perfume of a bug-musk was still familiar to the Bosmer, and Ylenno could smell it on Kayla. Ylenno's grin shrinked to a smirk.

Got an excuse to go stupid here. Gah, who am I kidding?! No one needs a reason to be stupid!

When Kayla leaned in for a greeting kiss, he turned to fully face her at the last moment, closing his eyes like a love-sick teenager and making a childishly kissy face at her. He brayed his trademark laugh.

"Well, you know me, my dear! So deviously debonair and roguishly rugged that even mindless monsters find me unresistably handsome! No need to remind of something so obvious, haw-haw-haw!"

A seated Khajiit introduced herself as Aravi, and Ylenno bowed his head to her, still caught in the bear hug of Kayla.

"A pleasure! I met Kayla during the Expedition to Sutch; perhaps you've heard of that accursed tragedy? Damn underground mazes and Falmer lemme you tell you."

He then turned to Kayla, a glint in his eyes.

"Oh you know, the usual lifestyle of one infamous such as me. Getting into fights, rescuing kittens, helping old people across the street, getting into brawls, assisting the city guards like the law-abiding saint I am, smashing evil-doers. getting into trouble, and dancing some tangoes here and there. Which reminds me."

He made a show of sniffing the air around Kayla and grinned mischievously at her.

"You saucy little snowbear, what have YOU been up to with an infamous Morrowind perfume? Nothing too .... naughty I hope."

It is at that time that a series of vivid images appeared at the stage where the butch looking Imperial girl plied her trade as a skilled bard. Snoeflakes cascaded all around the stage, truly realistic for an arcane simulacrum. It was serenenly beautiful, to say the least.

Vera The Huntress.

There was a knock on the door that made the huntress' ears perk up. She reached for a knife, held it in a way that that her forearm concealed it, and gently headed over to the door.

I wonder.

It wasn't Lycus. He was hunting and he had a distinct knock when trying to open the door failed. This was someone else.

She proceeded over to the door, and wrapped her fingers around the doorknob and pulled the door open. Standing there was a familiar face that she wasn't expecting to see anytime soon, in this manner.

Aravi was at the door, dressed in fine green robes Vera assumed only worn for the special occasion. She didn't think the khajiit would bother looking for her, especially considering the hunt that happened sometime ago in the caverns. Vera was either expecting a "sorry, wrong room," or a condescending talk about how better that hunt could've been.

The blond woman leaned on the door, and waited. "Is there something you want?"

****

"Likewise." Irvana responded to Darnand, following close behind Abiene as he helped her along up the flight of stairs, to the corridor and finally into her room. Along the way she cast a spell to heal herself, Irvana suspected to keep the blood from dripping.

It served as a reminder how potent the spell must have been, to have such an effect on another. This was something serious.

It is dangerous to have a mind-reader in our midst.

Irvana closed the door behind her as Abiene went over to the basin to wash her face, and she held her arms behind her back to discern anything that might've been further out of the ordinary.

"Abiene. Could you explain to me what you are feeling and what you suspect what happened?" She took a step forth. "It would seem to me that you're mind has been tampered with."

Abiene

“I felt a piercing headache behind my eyes, but that’s passed,” Abiene said. She dried her hands and patted her face with the towel.

Darnand paced between the closed door and window, restless but not agitated.

“My stars gave me a certain empathy,” Abiene explained. “An aptitude that study has refined into skill. It makes me a better healer, but it’s also a liability. I’ve spent countless hours learning to shield myself and my patient from too much emotional intimacy during the healing trance. But I’m no telepath. This was different. An invasion of my waking mind from the consciousness of another. Whoever did it must have terrible power.” She touched under her nose, checking to make sure the bleed had stopped. “The Ritual made me vulnerable. I doubt they could have known that.”

“An attempt was made upon my mind as well,” Darnand said to Irvana. “What is your experience in these matters?”

He hasn’t ruled her out of his suspicion, Abiene realized. “Darnand is a highly trained summoner,” she told Irvana. “Perhaps that’s how he deflected the intrusion.”

“Indeed,” said Darnand, giving Abiene a bland look.

Abiene’s mouth went dry. She knew his training came from elsewhere, but she was not inclined to admit it even to him. It seemed that he already knew.

“Anyway if they tried to snoop into both of our minds, it was probably just a prank,” said Abiene.

Darnand glared at her. “You wish to think the best of others. Do not allow that quality to cloud your judgment in this matter.”

“Or as Jerric would say, when someone pees on you don’t keep hoping that it’s rain,” Abiene replied. She glanced at Irvana. “Except he doesn’t say ‘pee.’”

Darnand had his arms across his chest. He eyes were leveled at Irvana.

Abiene decided to shut up and see what she had to say.

It took but a moment for the door to be answered. Vera stood there, blond hair somewhat messy and clad in a simple tunic. “Is there something you want?”

“Yes there is, I have a job to offer. May I come in?” Aravi asked. She could tell the other woman was neither expecting, nor happy to see her. Aravi shared the latter feeling. We’re going to need help though, especially if Jerric isn’t coming.

Kayla opened her mouth to offer a rebuttal to Ylenno, when she felt a chill as the pictures of her homeland flitted in front of her eyes. Tears sprang and threatened to fall as she saw the falling snow. she could almost feel the wind whipping her auburn hair around her face.

When the song was over, everyone seemed to enjoy it very much. Aravi gushed to the bard, and everyone seemed relaxed and happy. But Kayla felt...empty. She'd spent too long away from Skyrim. She missed Ma'Dat, her Khajiit father figure and mentor.

She shook the feeling and put on a mock-frown and a scolding tone. She pointed a finger at Ylenno's nose, which was curiously at height with her own.

He's too tall to just be a Bosmer.

"Ylenno! Don't start something you can't finish!" she said, referring to the last-second slip-in of his lips when she meant to aim for his cheek. She felt a slight blush creep up as she realized that he wouldn't be the type to stutter his way through a response. Oh, she'd get it now. He wouldn't yank her between booths and ravish her, but he'd definitely make her regret saying anything. It didn't help that she found him attractive for a Bosmer, funny hair and tendency to be a pest aside.

Either way, she was sure he'd leave her gaping with his response. He'd probably lowkick her and sit on her stomach, or something of the sort. There was just no telling with Ylenno.

Serene

That girl sings just wonderful

Serene closed her eyes and just enjoyed the songs of that imperial girl Salyan.

As my magic a mug of Mead appeared in front of her, the sweet smell of honey reached her nostrils and she looked up in Seth's face. It was him who brought her the drink, he always knew what she needed when she needed it

"Thanks dear" she smiled and took a deep sip of the golden beverage

Seth sat down beside her, most of the others had left after the musical entertainment and Serene wondered why.

"Is it my fault? do they think I did it?"

"Maybe" Seth responded "Even I thought it was you?"

Serene closed her eyes in pain, while she had tried to "feel" the people around her, someone had violently attacked the minds of them all, Serene had noticed it but she was used to that sort of thing and immediately blocked her mind from all entries.

"I hope they come back, I must tell them I didn't do it"

A job offer?

This changed everything. Vera Castius opened the door wider to let Aravi step inside, giving Aravi a view of her entire room and the weapons that were spread throughout the bed.

The simple words spoken from Aravi had changed the situation and her demeanor toward the khajiit, for she had made herself a potential employer requiring her services. She had a rule of her conduct in the presence of those who had coin to offer, and a respectable and professional attitude is what helped make things happen.

Always be polite to a client.

“Take a seat if you like,” Vera said to Aravi, motioning her head to one of the chairs in the corner near the dresser. She took her own seat on the edge of the bed, hands comfortable, eyes set on Aravi. She waited for the khajiit to speak.

What manner of job does she want done?

Personally protection wasn’t a thought. Aravi was more than capable of protecting herself, and she didn’t strike Vera as a woman who would pay someone to watch her back for a given amount of time.

Someone killed or captured? Possible. Runaway lover, convict, deadbeat owing her coin, or a personal vendetta she would have unfold with the capture of the offender. Vera’s seen it all. So she waited for Aravi to elaborate on what job she wanted realized.

****

Irvana took the liberty to sit down. Indeed, someone did try to probe their way into our psyche.

Abiene explained it all as she refreshed herself using the basin of water. She revealed information of her birthsign and the weakness she had which was empathy. Irvana agreed with her on that matter alone.

Darnand began asking a question of his own; how much experience does she have in the subject. There was a chance he suspected she wasn't affected by the mind-reading because she might have been the culprit.

Abiene explained to her that he was a conjurer and he had averted the intrusion.

The black-haired woman settled further in her chair, fingers interlocked. Abiene offered the possibility that it was an act born of mischief. Darnand glared at her, giving her his own piece of mind of her indulgent nature.

Abiene made a comment about an individual named Jerric, and crossed her arms in an act of silencing herself. Darnand looked at Irvana, obviously waiting on an answer to her question.

She obliged.

"I felt it," Irvana confessed. "I was always attuned to the world; I can sense when something is amiss. I felt the unwelcome presence within my mind and I simply cast an illusion spell in my mind, producing false thoughts."

She set her golden-hued eyed on Darnand. "I'm a scholar. I studied at the Arcane University and the Imperial College, as well. I know much about the mysteries of this world; both good and ill. I've researched all I can to protect myself from the malicious powers of this world and I am fortunate to have learned a bit of knowledge that protected my mind from external dangers."

She turned to Abiene. "Unfortunately for you, my dear friend, you have been a victim of this act and I must side with Darnand on the call that this must have been something beyond a mere child's play."

Prank or no, this power was still power, and Irvana had tremendous problems with those trying to gain insight into her mind.

"If one is powerful enough to possess such an ability then I believe this is a serious issue to consider. You are a wonderful, helpful and generous woman, Abiene. But there are people out there who are willing to exploit you for your kind nature. You must always believe there is someone out there for you. Even the kindest of souls have enemies. I learned this the hard way."

Abiene couldn’t argue with Irvana. She was still taking the potion that saved her from the last person who had wished her ill.

Still, Irvana’s words somewhat eased her mind.

“If it was someone looking for something specific, why would they try all three of us?” Abiene said. “There’s no link between you two apart from me.” Her eyes widened. “Oh.”

Darnand made a visible effort to calm himself. “Tell me about this poisoning.”

“It’s over,” Abiene said, her tone sounding uneasy even to herself. “The person… died.” She sat down abruptly on the edge of the bed. “Please don’t ask me any more, Darnand. This must be something different.”

Darnand set his jaw in the way that told her he wasn’t finished.

“Anyway, what are we going to do about it?” she continued. “Go downstairs and start shaking random people until someone confesses? If there’s another attempt then we’ll know something is amiss. Otherwise I think…” Abiene sighed. Vera is going to be upset. “I don’t know what to think.”

Aravi stepped inside, glancing at the array of weaponry spread throughout the room. She closed the door quickly behind her. Vera’s demeanor completely changed. I suppose it’s good business practice, she thought to herself.

She took the offered chair and crossed her legs comfortably. Vera sat on the bed, and her attention was totally on Aravi.

“I need to fill some soul gems,” Aravi began. “I’m going to Skyrim to do this. There is a large network of caves that should be home to many dangerous creatures with powerful souls. I’m bringing two others with me, but I feel we need another. You. We will go in quietly. Creatures will be soul trapped before they are brought down. If we run into outlaws, they can just be killed or avoided.”

Aravi paused for a moment. “A mage is coming with us, and he will do the soul trapping. Kayla is also coming with us. If you agree to come along, I will pay you half before we leave and the other half when we return.”

Ylenno purred greatly and narrowed his eyes at Kayla.

"Is that an invitation," he said, in his huskiest voice. "With that bug-musk on you, I could always say I've bewitched and thus entirely not responsible for what I'd do. I could even say you've been out to seduce little old moi! There's some private booths around here, I'm sure, and I've been dying to try out some of the ... things I've seen in a pillowbook. Wanna see how sharp the Cavefish Shanker became?"

He stared at her for a moment. He then exploded in his trademark laughter as he broke from the embrace and playfully low-kicked her in the knees. Kayla was a warrior and a daughter of Skyrim, she had her scars and the rending gales of northern winter may have roughened her up somewhat, but she was still an Altmer, and had their arcane beauty about her. Safe to say he found her undeniably charming.

"It's been a while, really! So how about you? What have you been up to, aside from raising sticks and corrupting innocence"

He looked around the table, and found that a handful of them had excused themselves, including Aravi.

"So yeah, what've you been up to? Quite the colorful friends you have, by the way."

Skyrim, Vera said thoughtfully. That's some distance.

She ran her hand over her chin while her eyes remained focus intently on Aravi. Not only was Aravi looking to pay for her services, she would also be present on the trip. So in a way it was a manner of an escort service. They needed a person who was capable of fighting, and Vera was just the one. Whatever issue she had with their last time together seemed completely irrelevant. Aravi must have liked what she had seen.

It wasn't her most favorite of tasks within a job, for she found that working alone was much more efficient than working with other hard-headed individuals. Aravi had a different approach to combat, and Vera had no problems with it. Her companions on the other hand might get in the way. Too many minds on a single task led things to different unwanted directions. It was far better to work in one singular plan than many different ones. She hoped that things would go smoothly. Things didn't seem to go entirely too well with Kayla involved.

But Skyrim . . .

She was familiar with the Old Kingdom. After her occupation in Cyrodiil she headed to the Fatherland for more work and a new home. Things never changed. Just the landscape and the native creatures, but work was the same. It wasn't a job beyond her abilities. She does things that she's good at, and for which she gets paid to be the best.

Tracking someone down, pursuing him or her in the width of the province, capturing, transporting, killing anyone who had to be killed in order to get the job done; all cold-pleasures, to be savored as tests and confirmations of her own talents.

If Aravi paid well enough, she would go without as much as a fuss. Those who hired her hand, hired her whole self. She just hoped there wouldn't be any arguments or verbal brawling. The khajiit was calm and collected, and this was good enough for her.

Only Vera knew how bad it was to negotiate with an idiot.

Dealing with any of the clients, whether a matter of direct negotiation or a third-party negotiation with a middle person was more dreadful than satisfying. It always turned out to be the same damn thing, every damn time. They never want to pay up right away. Even members of the Fighter's Guild would accept a fraction of an original contract, sometimes as low as ten percent. That was one of the reasons Vera disliked working with them. She had never taken a single septim than the agreed-upon sum, and had no intention of ever doing it.

Aravi spoke her mind to pay half before the departure, half later. This was acceptable. What mattered was the right price, and Vera could take on any job . . . for the right price.

She wouldn't raise any questions on why Aravi wanted the creature's souls. She didn't particularly care. It wasn't any of her buisiness and if the reasons became clear, then so be it. If not, then so be it.

"Outlaws shouldn't be much of an issue with us as a small group. They don't always work in large numbers; draws too much attention. If they do, then they're a few meat-pieces short of a brain."

She took in some air. "I'll accompany you if the price is right. My rate is triple that of ordinary pay from either the Companions or the Fighter's Guild," Vera explained to Aravi casually. "The total is a thousand-six hundred gold pieces. I'll do whatever the job requires me to do to the letter and I'll do it to the best of my ability."

If Aravi did not like the price, it was her problem. Her clients pay her the kind of payment they do because of one thing: she gets the job done. Once she's caught her prey, nothing impedes from returning them in or taking them out. Nothing. If she take on an individual contract, she completes it. And everyone who's heard or worked with her before knows that. She was good at what she does, and the quality of her work demanded the quantity of her pay.

She looked upon Aravi with neither contempt nor any joy. It was more of a neutral look, placid. The only information she needed was the agreement and the exact location in Skyrim for proper planning. It was in Aravi's hands now.

For a moment, Kayla thought Ylenno was going to kiss her by the way he was looking at her and the closeness of their faces. Then he laughed and broke the embrace and expectantly low-kicked her. She was waiting, and caught herself in time, her knees bending, but she didn't collapse. She grinned at him and laughed.

"Cavefish shanker? You're still calling it that?!" She laughed.

Raising sticks? Raising...OH!

"Don't knock the bug musk. Not many men find me attractive and-" She clenched her jaw as she received yet another randy pinch on the rear by an intoxicated...she looked back and saw a pretty blonde woman giving her a sly and flirty look. A blush creeped up her neck as she turned towards Ylenno and pointed a finger in his face.

"Not a word!"

Ylenno donned a mock-haughty look and raised his nose in the air, his voice mock-disdainful.

"Well what do you want to call it then? Mehrunes' Razor? I'm not exactly an imaginative person, y'know; took me ten days to come up with the name."

He then stared at her with an incredulous look. She thinks herself unattractive. Like icing to a cake.

"With that kind of opinion of yourself, its no wonder we men find you seriousl-,"

He paused in mid-sentence as a foxy little blonde cutie passed them by, and judging by the sudden jolt Kayla gave and the 'come-hither' look by the other woman, it was clear Kayla was .. pinched.

Telvanni bug-musk, alright.

Ylenno would've barked a laughter were it not for the sudden finger in his face.

"Not a word," she said, more redder than a Skingrad tomato.

Oh yeah? How about a number?

With that same smirk on his face, he pointed at himself, Kayla and the other woman and then gestured the number 'three.' Ylenno waited for the other elf's reaction.

The blonde's face nearly split in a grin as she nodded. Kayla's eyes widened and she shook her head vigorously.

"Augh! No! I can't- I mean I wouldn't know what-YLENNO!"

She shook her head at the blonde, her face reddening even more. The blonde looked mildly disappointed, then scanned the ground before disappearing between the shoulders of two large Nords. Kayla reeled on Ylenno, her lips pursed tightly, her eyes wide and her brows arched nearly to her hairline.

"You! You're going to get me in trouble!" Laughter threatened to escape, and she clenched her teeth, pointing at him again. She pulled her hand away, crossing her arms.

"Men find me what? Bad looking? That's not news. You even said yourself I'm ugly." She gave him a half grin to let him know there weren't any hard feelings.

"Besides," She let a small laugh escape. "Only a very special type of man gets to see my very special hidden tattoo." She raised her eyebrows twice, then laughed. She knew he'd piece it together. She waited for him to take the bait.

"Outlaws shouldn't be much of an issue with us as a small group. They don't always work in large numbers; draws too much attention. If they do, then they're a few meat-pieces short of a brain."

They generally are… Aravi felt no need to say that aloud though. She listened until Vera was done speaking, and then considered silently for a few moments.

“Your price is higher than I expected. I do not normally hire mercenaries, nor am I one, so I do not know how this usually goes. I do not feel like haggling with you like a merchant either. Sixteen hundred Septims it is, eight hundred up front and eight hundred when we return.”

She gave a few more details of the trip. “We are aiming for a cave network called Lost Knife Hideout. If you can’t find it on a map, I can show you its general location. We are planning on leaving in a couple of days.”

She stood up and offered Vera her hand. “Is this acceptable?”

Ylenno put on a grand display of being disappointed. He waved dramatically at the blonde woman, a look of dark despair in his eyes as he wrung his hands, his heart broken at his ideas being rejected. He looked downcast at the ground, shuffling his feet like a maiden.

"Alas, but the realities of the world be omnipresent! Poor Ylenno accepts, for it is all he can do, but mine heart breaks and shatters at such a insistent denial!"

He smiled at Kayla.

"On the contrary, men find you seriously charming, and that's not the bug-musk talking, hey."

Then Kayla laid the trap. It was tantalizing trap, one he would love to get ensnared in and never get out, but even with his skillset he doubted he'd last long with the wounds he'd suffered earlier.

"Ooooh. A very special hidden tattoo, eh? So you've been in prison and been .... marked, I see. I have one myself, right in the middle of my buttocks! It says 'please don't'."

He then laughed.

Seriously charming? This man is blind!

He didn't quite react the way she'd hoped, but that was the thing she loved about Ylenno. Instead of taking the opportunity to try to seduce her, he made her laugh. It was a shocked laugh, that was more of a startled bark than a laugh, but it quickly turned into genuine, loud laughter. She slapped her knees and leaned on him, careful to not touch any obvious injuries.

"I missed you, Ylenno! You have no idea!"

Someone had tried to poison Abiene. But why?

Irvana maintained her eerie calmness. She listened and concentrated on Abiene's words and movements. She was visibly fearful and refused to even continue the subject of the poisoning. She had obviously experienced something traumatic, a memory she was unwilling to revisit even though sometimes it may return to her.

Irvana could not recall with detail the last person that died in front of her. Too many had lost their lives before and it was something she learned to cope with. It was almost as easy as . . . breathing.

She wasn't sure what to do or how to approach this situation. Interrogating others was too bold, far too risky for exposure. It would yield more problems than positive results. The time was not yet ripe for such an audacious approach.

She looked at Abiene and saw the emotional young woman . . . what enemies could she make? Was it possible that the person reading her mind wanted to discover something born out of suspicion they initially had of someone or something.

No. It can't be . . .

Her eyes stayed on Abiene as her thoughts procecced through her vast intricate mind.

Or can it . . .

This was dangerous. Too dangerous. She didn't come this far to be a walking target.

Patience, Irvana told herself calmly. There are methods in rectyfing this problem.

Many scenarios played in her mind, and many outcomes. It was then that one possibility was a sacrifice—a strategic sacrifice, as one offers up a piece in chess: to draw the adversary into a fatal blunder. She could use Abiene as bait to lure the person into making use of her abilities.

She knows mages are at times not easily taken by surprise. Honed for such things, they are difficult to ensnare compared to the average individual. But they weren't fallible. Even the most gifted of mages can make one single mistake based on unwise decisions.

Irvana wouldn't spend her focus on such a trivial matter if it was something insignificant. But the mage, in attempting to read her mind and finding absolutely nothing may have the desire to try and probe again. This, too, was another trap she could possibly set and when the identity of this individual is discovered . . .

A smile spread through the woman's features like a serpent. "What if," she started to say. "What if one of us is used as bait to lure the culprit into trying to gain access once more? We can take precautions and find a manner to discover the fiend." She stopped, and then added. "If they do not attempt it again they are either gone, or they have suspected of our plan and hold no desire to continue."

Lost Knife Hideout. Didn't sound familiar. She would have to adjust to the location. She shook her head at the mention of the map. She can find the place on the map on her own.

Her prayers were answered. It looks like she was going to get paid this week afterall. She had two days to have her equipment ready and all the sleep she could try to get. She had to be rested, somewhat focused than her mind tended to distract her from being.

I can manage that, too.

Vera stood up from the edge of the bed and walked over to Aravi. She extended her hand, and held Aravi's furry palm in a firm, unyielding grip. A sign that buisness has reached a high point.

"Pleasure doing buisness with you." Vera said right before releasing her hand. Just there, she finally did offer Aravi a smile, though it was more of a forced grin. Just for the sake of being respectful.

Aravi gripped the other woman’s hand. They had an agreement.

"Pleasure doing buisness with you," Vera said, and then she gave Aravi something of a forced smile.

Aravi smiled with mirth. She’s trying, she admitted to herself. “You don’t have to pretend to like me!” she laughed. “Now if you will excuse me, I will go back down and leave you be. I will give you your first payment before we leave. See you in a couple of days if not sooner.”

She slipped out of Vera’s room, closing the door behind her.

The two elves both shared a good and hearty laugh, adding to merriment of the tavern all around them. Ylenno held Kayla, glad that he finally met a familiar face. That brooding depression he had felt earlier was completely gone; in fact, it was erased to the point that it seemed it wasn't even there.

"I missed you too, Kayla," he said, and that was genuine. "In fact, I miss all of our guys. I miss Tarrick, I miss Elaninde, I miss Westley, your esteemed boy-toy, I miss Lycus and Monk-Boy, hard to believe I know but I do, and I miss lady dame Buffy."

He then sighed.

"The question still stands, though. What are you doing here?"

Aravi made her excuses, saying she had business she needed to deal with upstairs, but promising to return once she was finished.

"Of course," Salyan said. "I'll see you soon."

She made her way over to the bar, ordering a ginger beer and slipping a magicka restoration potion from her back. She mixed the two together, the ginger overpowering the unpleasant taste of the potion (one that always faintly reminded her of spoiled meat) and scanned the crowd. She spotted Irvana, and considered heading over to her to apologise for her hasty brushing off of her earlier, but the imperial seemed to be busy with a conversation with Abiene, one they were both quite engrossed in, and Salyan decided that she would leave them be for the moment.

She took a sip of her drink, scanning the crowd and letting her magicka reserves and energy creep back with the potion's aid. A few minutes of rest left her feeling considerably improved, and at the end of those, she saw Aravi returning to the Wobbly Goblet's downstairs area.

"Over here!" she called to the khajiit, waving her hand to attract Aravi's notice.

"I visited Buffy in Anvil." She said, sitting at a table that had just vacated. She absently wiped the crumbs of pastries off with one hand while keeping eye contact with Ylenno.

"She had a party for her birthday, and I was invited. I made a special trip down to see her. I didn't see you anywhere, though. I guess you left after...well." She knew he'd know about the circumstances the expedition left them in.

"I've been wandering. Slaying vampires here and there, grunging up extra coin for equipment repairs and food. There was actually a nest nearby, and, would you believe it, Lycus' wife went with us! They're made for each other." She left it at that. She didn't feel like discussing her ill temperment with the blonde Imperial. Instead, she reached across the table and squeezed his hands gently and gave him a brief smile.

"I don't want to intrude, but I can give you very, very strong healing potions. I've been run through with a sword,and they've saved my life. I can always make more. You look rough. They're in my room. Come up?" There was a hidden question in there. She'd only offer once, and never again.

"Or I could bring them down for you." She said quickly. Ylenno was a friend. If he wanted to share anything with her, it wouldn't be a bed. They weren't each others type. But still, her question lingered in the air, and try as she might, she couldn't take it back for posterity's sake. he'd either decline or ignore it. Those were the only two choices she saw. Then he'd crack a joke, and she'd be embarrassed, and she'd never live it down.

She realized she was staring at him, her expression soft and concerned. She gave him an embarrassed smile, pulling her hand back slightly.

Laegon is probably still in your bed. What's wrong with you?!

As if on cue, the Altmer walked downstairs with a spring in his step. His eyes scanned the room and flitted to her face momentarily before sauntering off, never acknowledging her presence.

And that's the end of that. She thought dryly.

Perhaps she was skewing her desires. She longed for companionship, and once she left Anvil, she and Westley parted ways, him heading back to the Imperial City and her to explore the lands south of her home. Both agreed to remain friends, to keep in touch, but neither complied. He had his own life while she had hers. As far as she was concerned, their friendship never died. Just like hers and Ylenno's didn't.

And she was about to ruin it. One of the most cheerful men she'd ever encountered, with the most wit she'd ever experienced, and a decent amount of loyalty.

Shame on you.

She looked away and pulled her hands back completely, hiding them under the table.

"I can just bring them down." She repeated, looking at the table. She wouldn't. She couldn't. Not Ylenno. She wouldn't ruin their friendship over some mead and heightened hormones. She bit her lower lip, inwardly admonishing herself.

Abiene

“What if one of us is used as bait to lure the culprit into trying to gain access once more?”

“Out of the question,” said Darnand. He frowned at Abiene. “You should leave immediately and return to Chorrol. I shall escort you.”

Abiene walked over to Irvana. “What a good idea,” she said, ignoring Darnand. “You two should go downstairs first. I’ll follow in a moment.”

She opened the door for Irvana and returned to Darnand’s side. He looked unhappy.

“My friend,” she said. His arms were still crossed over his chest. She took one of his hands in hers anyway. “What’s the worst that can happen tonight? Another bloody nose? You weren’t even affected. In your pursuits you pass through many dangers but find little time for joy. Let us take it while we may.”

Darnand lightly squeezed her fingers, though his expression didn’t change. “I shall return to the tavern, then. To good company, decent wine, and questionable food. Do not make me wait.”

“Don’t forget the excellent music,” Abiene said, brushing his knuckles against her cheek. He didn’t return her smile but she could tell he had relented.

Darnand stepped through the door. “My reputation will only be improved if folk assume we have had a tryst, so I will leave the timing of your return up to your discretion,” he said to Irvana.

It won’t be improved too much, Abiene thought, smiling to herself. We’ve only been up here for about five minutes.