[System]
Age: 19

Gender: Female

Appearance: Onyx has black hair and green cat eyes. The skin of her entire body is covered in short, soft cheetah-patterned fur, except her wings and face. She is missing her left ear and has a scar on her left cheek from a fight she was in a while back. Her wings are like the wings of a brown hawk, and her wingspan is twice her arm span. She usually wears a shawl so that her wings are hidden unless she is flying.

Equipment: 3 or 4 small knives (and other tools), a pair of restored Twin Pistols, and a basic med-pack.

Physical Abilities: Flight, 6th sence(hunting/tracking), Speed & Agility, Stealth.

Background: Onyx's species, the Elissics, live in the mountains and old cities found there. They could be categorized as a frightening predator and enemy to all creatures, as they have barely any ability to distinguish one race of creature from another from the air, and there's barely any escape once they swoop down on their prey. They are not a particularly smart race, they can't understand old human language and can just barely manage to put back together the few relics they find from humans. They can only make crude weaponry, and are fairly simple with the other things they make as well. Their society is broken up into many nomadic tribes across the region, each having their own unique color of wings, and they have no unified head of power, so they will often fight with each other when the different tribes meet.

Onyx herself is a bit different from the others in her tribe… she likes to be alone, rather than hunting in a group, and will keep trying towards her goal until she figures out how to get there. Instead of trying to fly over the tallest mountain and tiring herself out, possibly even getting sick, she'll look for the shortest path around. She's better with strategy and quick moves than drawn-out fights and trying to compensate for a group. Because of this, she is sort of left out of everything, and she doesn't care because she doesn't want to have to feel like she can't say what's on her mind. She is often given solo missions that really don't make much difference around the tribe, and whenever she's not on a mission will fly in random patterns around the mountains, usually ending up at a large lake (or small sea) where she likes to fish using an old net she had found nearby the first time she had gone there. Onyx, just like the rest of the Elissics, doesn't worry much about the state of the world or how it got that way. They all live completely in the moment.

[User]
Onyx was slightly relieved that Tarentek had not insisted on going with her on the deliveries. They did not take too long, So when she got back to her den Onyx was surprised to find Tarentek cooking.

"Of all the places you could have snooped around in here, you choose the kitchen? I must say though, that smells good." Onyx sniffed the air. She had no idea what it was he was making, so she went over and started watching him to try and guess.

"Oh! This looks like what you described earlier! Or at least, something like I had imagined when you had told me." Onyx couldn't keep the excitement from her voice when she spoke.

[Assistant]
The meal was nearing completion by the time Onyx returned. He might have finished sooner if it had not taken him so long to find something he could use to grind up the meat. It was the one thing he needed which he could not locate by scent, so he had to guess at where he could find it.

Hearing Onyx's surprise caused Tarentek to smile as he turned to look at her. "Not exactly, but it is similar. I though I would do something to give at least a bit back for the kindnesses you've done for me. I did not have everything I needed for the right kind of bread, but as long as there is flour and water, I can make flatbread. I'm making two personal meat pies for each of us, each with ground mutton, melted cheese, and a combination of spices you had on hand. It is fairly simple, though I did also add some spices to the bread as well, which should give it a bit more character. It is something my uncle taught me. It is all almost ready, I'm just waiting on the mutton to finish cooking, which shouldn't be more than a few minutes."

[User] "Ok. Do you need help finding any dishes or utensils?" Onyx wondered at what he had said for a moment, and spoke another question. "Your, uncle? I am unfamiliar with this term."

[Assistant]
"Oh, he is my father's brother." Tarentek answered as he checked once more on the mutton. "He was one of the few in my family not to become a warrior. He has been reasonably successful, all things considered. He wanted to own his own business, but he was never able to amass the wealth necessary, so he went to work for someone else, an innkeeper. Luckily, they got along well enough that he ended up marrying her, so his life is fairly secure at this point. Well...as long as they made it through the attack."

Not wanting to dwell on the thoughts of his home, Tarentek quickly moved to retrieve the plates and utensils. "And don't worry, I found everything I needed well enough, though it did take a while to find something to grind up the meat."

[User] "Well, It seem a strange word to use to describe your father's brother." Onyx purposely tried not to say anything else about the subject, it seemed that Tarentek was beginning to worry about those he had left behind. Onyx wasn't quite sure what to do, she wasn't really used to waiting for a meal that someone else had cooked. "Well, It's good that you were able to find everything. Would you, like me pour some drinks? There is water, of course, but also I have some cordial you might like. It's non-alcoholic, made from fruit juice, water, and sugar."

[Assistant]
"Sure, I would not mind something different to drink. Perhaps in the future I could show you some of my favorite drinks as well, as long as you don't mind trying alcohol. I think the mutton is done, so I'll have everything ready in a moment." Tarentek answered as he began to move the ground mutton over onto two circular pieces of flatbread, then cover both in cheese. Once finished, he folded the flatbread over the meat to contain it so that it could be eaten with utensils, or simply with the hands.

Tarentek set down both plates at the table, then took a seat himself. "It is ready; I am eager to hear what you think. I'm wondering how well my people's tastes transfer over to yours. We both eat meat, and most of the other things you have in your kitchen, so I don't imagine our tastes are too different from one another." He observed.

[User]
Onyx poured two glasses of the cordial, and placed them on the table before taking a seat herself. The meal smelled delicious, but what Tarentek had said about tastes kept her from eating long enough to continue on the topic. "I doubt our tastes are completely the same though. Your people must have some reservations about certain foods that I definitely wouldn't have. Say for instance... You told me that your people are born from eggs, I know of a race that also is born from eggs that sees eating eggs as an abomination, while I must say I like the way bird's eggs taste."

"Or even something as simple as raw meat. I can eat it just fine, although I don't know if you can so I've cooked all the meat I've fed you so far. Now that I think about it, My people have very few reservations about what we eat, so long as it's not rotting." Onyx stopped talking to take a drink of her cordial. It's not as sweet as the last batch I made... It's still good though.

[Assistant]
Before beginning his meal, Tarentek tried the cordial Onyx poured for him. It was a sweet drink, much like he expected from her description of its ingredients. Visibly pleased with the drink, Tarentek moved on to finally start eating. The meat pie was partially encased by the bread, so he decided to forgo the use of utensils and simply used his hands.

"Hmm, I can understand why a race might have issue with eating eggs, but my people do not. We tend to be pragmatists when it comes to our food...or anything, really. Eggs are tasty, nutritious, and convenient. Now, if you tried to eat one of our eggs, we would have you tried and executed for murder. Bird eggs, however, go great with a number of dishes. Now raw meat, that is something neither I nor my people would choose to eat. I have had meat raw before, but it was out of necessity. There have been a few times that my scouting team was caught out in the desert with nothing to use to make a fire, usually when a sandstorm was keeping us in shelter. During those times, we ate our meat raw, but I certainly don't prefer it. Most of the people in Amman have probably never eaten meat raw. I can do it, but rather not. It's not so much because of the taste, but because of the extra risk of disease. Eating raw meat, you will probably be fine, but cooked meat will always be safer." Tarentek explained. "As far as tastes we have that you may not? Well, alcohol is a possibility. You said your people do not drink it, correct? Have you ever tried it before, or is it just something you haven't had available?"

[User]
Onyx took a bite of the sandwich before speaking again. "Wow, this is really good! I mean, It smelled good, but it tastes even better than I thought it would." Clearing her throat, she continued on their topic. "Well, alcohol has always been available, but I've never tried it nor have I ever needed it before. Some of the elders like alcohol, they like to mix it with sweet drinks like cordial or cook with it. I've been told that when you cook with alcohol that it just cooks away, leaving whatever you made with a strange flavor, however I've never done so myself because I don't believe that it could all simply cook away."

Onyx took another bite. "I have told you we use it as a painkiller, or so I believe I have, but I do remember telling you that it makes us as if we are dream-walking. As for cooked meat tasting better to you than raw... I suppose I could see why. I like both types the same, as you can do different things with the meat when you cook it, like this meal, however I find something..." She drifts off as she searches for the right word. "Intoxicating about being able to hunt your food, and eat it the minute you catch it. It always tastes good too, because it's still warm from the hunt. I imagine cold raw meat wouldn't taste as good, but I still wouldn't mind it."

[Assistant]
Tarentek gave a chuckle. "Alcohol is intoxicating as well, though in a different way. As you've said, drinking too much alcohol can and will put you in a different state of mind. Some find it rather pleasurable and therefore drink specifically for that effect. However, one should avoid drinking if they have any kind of important duties, as it would make fulfilling them quite impossible for a time. For most who drink, it is a mostly harmless hobby, but some can take it too far and rely on it too much. I had a friend who was like that, but by Jhala's grace, myself and our other friends managed to help him stop. Though, it was likely his betrothed who influenced him the most."

Tarentek appreciated the compliment on his food, so he returned one in kind for her drink. "I rather like this cordial. What kind of fruit is it made from? I think it tastes familiar, but I can't quite place it. In any case, sweet foods and drinks are some of my favorites. Some of my friends have said that I like things to be too sweet, but I don't think there is such a thing." He said with a smile.

[User] Onyx smiled at his complement. "Of course there's no such thing. It's plums, by the way. They grow in the oases near the sea, and are very naturally sweet, although I still add sugar to make the cordial." Onyx took a sip and continued. "What types of fruit do you like to eat? Plum is one of my favorites, although I like grapes and apples also."

[Assistant]
"My favorite fruits? I rather like cherries, though we tend to have more pomegranates. Honestly, though, fruit isn't the largest part of our diet. When we are able, we eat as much meat as we can get our hands on. Just looking at my teeth can give that away." Tarentek answered, opening his mouth slightly to reveal his many long and sharp teeth. "It is quite easy for us to rip into tough things like meat, but chewing is a lot harder. We have to put in a lot more effort, and it is generally annoying. Possible, but annoying."

Another effect of Tarentek's comparatively large mouth was that he could take quite large bites. As a result, he was already close to finishing his meat pie, though he was still perfectly engaged in the conversation. "You know, I would like to thank you for showing me around the...nest today. I understand you might not be able to do so everyday, but I appreciate it just the same. Perhaps later, we can do more outside this den. As I mentioned before, I will not be up for much in the way of physical training for a time, but perhaps we could have some marksmanship training later, or at least archery? I am not certain how many bullets your tribe has on hand, so I don't know how freely you can use them for training. Sometimes, I forget that most settlements have not discovered how to make ammunition for firearms. It requires specialized knowledge that Amman's leadership was intent on keeping a closely guarded secret."


[System]
Gender: Female

Age: 23

Rank: Corporal

Former Regiment: 510th Cadian Shock Troops (Mechanized)

Specialty/Role: Vox-Operator and Reconnaissance Trooper

Personal Demeanor:
Once a zealous and hot-headed recruit eager to see the field of battle, Laen's demeanor has since been tempered by the Iron discipline of the Cadian Shock Troops and the dreadful realities of combat in the 42nd Millenia. She has a much more reserved outward personality, seeming quiet and distant to those around her, though a fire still burns within her. She's a loyal, faithful soldier of the Emperor that has excelled in her areas of expertise, but her reserved and disciplined attitude has kept her from advancing to a leadership role in the 510th. She keeps her mouth shut, her eyes and ears open, and does what needs to be done when it needs to be done, but rarely takes the initiative herself to make decisions, an unfortunate drawback of the disciple drilled into her all her life. While she will not hesitate to share her expertise and advise superiors when called upon, she does not question a decision or order handed down to her, regardless of her own opinion on the matter. She makes a loyal follower and dedicated comrade, but a wanting leader.

Her experiences have left her paranoid and restless as any loyal guardsman should be, constantly vigilant. She has a deep hatred of the forces of chaos and all those that serve the Daemonic, ingrained in her through her upbringing and reinforced in her military career. Conversely, she trusts her fellow guardsmen (especially other Cadians) with her life and will not hesitate to put herself at risk for her comrades.

Description:
Corporal Laen is far from an extraordinary looking individual. Standing only 5'3" tall with an athletic, although not particularly muscular build, she is towered over by most others and appears rather slight by comparison. Her light complexion and violet eyes easily mark her out as a Cadian, as does her standard battle dress, patterned in the muted green camouflage used by guardsmen on Stiri II. Her flak armor shows the wear of battle, with worn paint and scarred in places by shrapnel. Her helmet is mounted with a bulky headset for the vox-caster she wears on her back which itself looks almost comically large on her. The words "Call for a Good Time" are stenciled in white on her helmet, something allowed only due to her position as a reconnaissance trooper, far from commanders and commissars that might frown at such a thing.

Service Record:
The fall of Cadia marked a tremendous loss to the Imperium. However, its martial tradition remains alive and well, carried on by the scattered sons and daughters of Cadia, fighting countless wars against those who would threaten Mankind. Entire regiments continue to be raised from the descendents of those that survived Cadia's fall, born in gargantuan voidships and distant colonies instead of the fortress cities of Cadia, taught to hate the Archenemy that tore their world from them.

Corporal Laen is among those thousands of Cadians born without a home, trained to fight and die among her fellow Cadians and told countless stories of the homeworld she would never see and its near-mythic defenders that died by the millions to hold it from the most accursed enemy. She called the vault-like holds of naval voidships her home and those guardsmen around her family. Like so many Cadians before her, she has known little else than war, born among soldiers of Cadia and raised to battle in the 510th Shock Regiment alongside her brothers and sisters, her childhood merely preparation for martydom.

Laen's first combat experience was on Thesh, an industrial world caught in the path of an Ork Waagh. The 510th arrived several weeks after the ork vanguard, intending to relieve the beleaguered defenders and reinforce their fortifications. Laen, still a whiteshield, participated in nearly a year of brutal attrition warfare. She fought in day after day of brutal combat on the front, with little time to recover or even bury the dead between xenos assaults. The experience was sobering for the young woman who had yet to know the realities of war. After months spent grinding the xenos advance to a halt, the Imperials went on the offensive and drove the greenskins from the world. By the end of the Battle of Thesh, Laen had been transferred out of her whiteshield platoon and into a reconnaissance company, where she served as a vox-operator.

After a short respite from the campaign on Thesh, the regiment participated in the counter-invasion of Stiri II, an Imperial Agri-world invaded and subjugated by a Chaos warband spat out into the Imperium by the Circatrix Maledictum. It was here that Laen came face to face with the servants of the Archenemy and the horrific powers they commanded. Her reconnaissance unit formed the vanguard for the Imperial offensive, traveling ahead of the lines to test the enemy's defenses. She became an adept scout and navigator, for anything less meant a quick death on the overgrown fields of Stiri II. The campaign left the 510th a tattered shadow of its former self and Laen, now a corporal, was among the hardened survivors, having faced certain, horrific death for two long years and survived by luck and the Emperor's mercy.

Equipment:
Lascarbine - A shortened lasgun with a folding stock intended for specialist personnel. Laen prefers it due to her smaller physique, reconnaissance role, and bulky comms equipment.
Vox-Caster - A bulky manpack radio with helmet-mounted link. It provides infantry with the capability for long-distance communication with friendly elements.
Magnoculars - A handheld vision device that magnifies distant objects for observation.
Flak Armor - Protective body armor in the standard Cadian-pattern. Comes in two sizes: Too Big and Too Small. Laen's is the former.
Cadian Battle Dress Uniform - A simple and rugged uniform in woodland camouflage intended to serve guardsmen in a variety of environments.
Standard Regimental Kit - An assortment of equipment to sustain a guardsman in the field, including ammunition, rations, tools for maintaining military equipment, and basic medical supplies.

[User]
There was a twitch that even an Eldar would struggle to notice due to it's speed and microscopic scale, but nevertheless Epsilon had it in his right eye when he was mimicked. However when the man revealed he had the mask - and was disrespecting the item - it was much more noticeable with his head cocking on one side for a millisecond before returning to it's original position. His equipment seemed intact, but he was nevertheless distressed. Unused parts of his brain flared trying to tell him something, something to do with emotions, being taunted and the subsequent anger. However, he'd be having none of that. The only emotion a true servant of the Emperor had was love for his God-ruler.

"Listen closely. If you do not tell me your designation, your unit and why you are here on this ship, I will not torture you – torture would be redundant on one of your kind – I will imprison you. I will imprison you for as long as your life holds out, for as long as it takes for you to meet a slow and miserable end bought about by the ageing of your body. You think that your Emperor would want that? Do you really think that he would accept your sacrifice outside of martyrdom in battle?"

In a fraction of a fraction of a nanosecond, the question was repeated dozens of times. Of course he wouldn't. But would he want to be betrayed? This brought more questions than Draeta would care to ask, but he nevertheless had to compute them. Cold logic was what was needed here and that was precisely what any Krieger had cart-loads of.

Draeta didn't smile because he wasn't stupid, and even if he was the soldier was nonetheless emotionless. However, it would the perfect time to if narrative causality had a say in things. All the while the man was speaking he was chewing his hooding hoping to get a hole in it for... something he had planned. He was quiet and did it hidden to all but the most attentive of eyes, but nevertheless the sharp and impeccable teeth were grinding hard. Whether or not it would yield, the Kriegsman would turn to the sound and lean in when it was seemingly the closest and say "No, he wouldnt...." before lunging out hoping to catch the counterpart with his teeth. All the while, he was howling "For the Emperor! Die heretic!" in unending repetition.

[Assistant]
That took him back. The mocking, the patronizing. A soldier without a homeworld, just like his parents, and their parents before that. He tensed up, every cold, seized muscle in his body tugging and shifting. His teeth locked together, and he gritted them in not only anger, but spite. Were his eyes revealed he would've had the most bright hellfire burning within them.

The words continued to echo in his mind across the tense silence, his anger saying a thousand words, creating a cacophony of tension in the room. The words, they bounced, echoed, "No home.." and "Broke your homeworld.." He was angry, everything in his mind told him to yell out, cursing who or whatever captured him. But he remained silent, preparing his words articulately.

"Cadia stands as long as Cadian soldiers fight." He muttered, the familiar phrase from the lips of Ursarkar E. Creed himself, giving birth to a pride and nationalism even in the absence of a homeworld. He calmed himself in the ensuing silence, and yet repeated, his mouth now articulately and coldly stating again the same phrase: "Corporal Austen Corby, service number 4093375."


[System]
Age: 63
Race: Dunmer
Height: 5'8"
Eye color: Red, left is blinded

Class: Mage
Secondary Class: Warrior
Weapons: Ebony war axe and a steel dagger for some cases. Magic is still preferred.
Armor: Robes of Conjuration, leather gauntlets, leather boots
Clothes: Red dunmer clothing (good name, Bethesda), fur boots

Shout you will learn: Ice Form

Biography: Erius R'en, more commonly known as Alit, was born a century after her parents fled Vvardenfell to Blacklight. She spent her childhood enjoying the city's sights, spending much of her time as a spectator of the arena, before eventually having to move to the quieter town of Raven Rock. Alit was unsatisfied with the monotony of farming- and although lacking true combat skills- longed for something more. She left for Skyrim just two years after the defeat of Miraak with only the magic she learned from spare tomes.
Marital Status: Single
Relationships: Despite her bluntness, Alit manages to get along with Uthgerd the Unbroken and Arcadia. Her standing with the Companions tend to vary due to her nagging, but she does have an interest in keeping them alive and inspired in battle.

***

(i can and will snap my own neck)

Name: Haskell
Age: 30
Race: Nord
Height: 6'1"
Eye color: Grey

Main Class: Warrior
Secondary Class: Archer
Weapons: Nordic greatsword, Elven bow
Armor: Ebony armor
Clothes: Blue merchant clothes, boots, bone hawk amulet

Shout you will learn: Storm Call (aka the shout no one with companions they care about ever use)

Biography: Haskell hails from Windhelm, where he was a farmer before turning to banditry shortly after receiving news of his parents' deaths, both of whom served on the losing side of the civil war. A couple years were dedicated to terrorizing the roads and small villages before the innocent deaths started weighing on him. Haskell managed to slip away from the lifestyle without catching the attention of the others during a raid, and for a time he wandered alone, taking bounties from inns before eventually looking into the Companions.
Marital Status: Single
Relationships: He was friends with Nils, Luaffyn, and Quintus Navale in Windhelm. In Whiterun, he gets along with Uthgerd and Sinmir.

[User]
Velan's face cringed in anger "Oh yes your people taught me manners when they Killed my father, my mother my betrothed" velan's expression changed to sadness he gripped his pendent his voice was slightly shaken. "i don't care if you are not of the thalmor don't test me woman you won't be the first of your people learn what i can do with my bow" he told her simply.

Velan did not mince words his temperament did not allow him to joke with any Altmer all were his enemy if not today some other.
For now his party needed him and their very leader just might need him, Velan was no fool so with one last swig of his mead his put a small coin purse on the bar. "my half for the drinks and some coin for another round on me" he told jarett as he tapped him on the back and stood he gave one last look at the Altmer before turning to Alit.

"I need some air i'll be around the city looking for information fill me in later if you find something new" he said in a calm and soft tone before he turned and walked to the door of the inn. Velan carried himself in a defeated manner it was how he felt everytime he thought or spoke of his life before Coming to this cold unforgiving place.

[Assistant] Zazar was rising his brow at the request, "Zazar would like it if Zazar spoke with my group and have them present when this information is told" He said feeling like the group should know and input what they should do next with the Dovakiin. Motioning for the closest members of the group to come to their location, "You are with a group? I was hoping we may discuss this in private" The Bosmer looked quite disappointment when Zazar said he was in a group looking for the Dovakiin.

[User]
The orc woman relaxed as the tension slowly died down. Thought she might get into another tavern rumble and ruin the chance of joining the group. Maira eyed the Bosmer as he walked out of the establishment to get some air. So that's why he despised high elves so much. Maira somehow shares the same sentiment, though she barely remembered her own family being burned alive by the forsworn, that feeling of loss and longing still lingered.

She turned to Keldan, who was comfortably playing with her hair, she still made the orc woman slightly nervous. "Oh, did it looked that way?" she said tensely "I--was just simply trying to impress you my lady. I was not aware that people were paying attention. " and for the most part she did. She took a quick glance on the three.

Maira's goal for discretion was ultimately unsuccessful, though she can't say it was a total fail. The whole incident did caught their attention, and was even considering on commissioning for help in search of the dragonborn. So far she's doing good, but she could imagine her mentors facepalming at her foolish attempt.

"Though if I would make a suggestion on whom they should take, this group needs a dashing duelist who's quick on her feet." she turned towards the three "I havent personally introduced myself. Hi, I'm Maira. " she extended her arm in a laid back manner "Full time mercenary, part time business woman. How's it going?"

[Assistant]
Before Velan could leave he heard out Zazar "Zazar my friend i am but a simple Elf i do what i am told Alit, Jarett and you know this well when you need me i'll be around for now i must go" he told the Argoninan. Velan opened the door and walked out into solitude he looked down the street.

"i wonder if there is a flecher in town i could use some more specialized Arrows" he said to himself as he walked down the street Velan felt a pang of guilt for causing a scene "i need to control myself better by Y'ffre" he scolded to himself. As Velan walked the people of the city waved and greeted Velan, which made him feel strangely alone. Velan pulled out his pipe and lit the Viper Bug powder a smooth smoke raced into his lungs and left his nostrils in a thick lime green smoke.

"I should have brought a drink" he chuckled before continuing his walk towards the Flecher's.

[User]
"A quick duelist?" Alit's interest was already piqued at the prospect of another person joining in the search, but finding out Maira's specialty just made everything better, "Then our trip here wasn't time wasted after all. Having another member of team on offense would make things a whole lot better, wouldn't it?" she looked at the other two remaining Companions to make sure they were okay with having someone around who was most likely a thief.

"I know Thieves Guild armor when I see it," Haskell chimed in, "But you're all right with me, at least until I catch you tryin' to pick any of our pockets. If you survive long enough to even try with Alit being mostly in charge around here, that is."

The Dunmer scoffed. "Ah-hem. I do a good job at keeping everyone alive."

[Assistant]
Keldan had already finished her second cup of wine and was currently drinking the one that had been meant for Valen. "Dear, you don't have to pretend. I'm not naive, but I do believe you were trying to impress me, a little." She could tell she was making Maira just a tad nervous, and Keldan was loving it.

"Alit, you have saved our asses more times than I can count," Jarett said after taking a drink from the Alto wine Keldan had bought them. "I'm totally fine with Maira joining in, but Haskell is right. Just like she can keep us alive she can kill anyone just as quickly." He had seen the Dunmer woman fight when enemies got too close to her, and it wasn't pretty. "I do think you wouldn't steal from people who are so gracefully accepting your help. Unless you are expecting pay, seeing as you are a mercenary after all."

"If you're accepting people, why don't I offer my services too?" Keldan raised an eyebrow at Alit. "Of course, I'll behave and try not to piss off the little kitten you call Valen or anyone else. After all, you'll need a bard that will write down your adventures and spread them when you are either dead or retired." She had nothing left to do in Solitude and she had been looking for some kind of adventure. Joining the group that was looking for one of the most powerful people in Tamriel seemed like a good idea.

"You? You're a bard- wait, nevermind we heard your story too," Jarett looked at Alit. "So? You want the bard in too? She's gonna be a bit of trouble with Valen, but all the help we can get is good for us. We don't know what we're facing out there."

[User]
Valen sat on a ledge just out side the Flecher's he held the new arrows he just had purchased thinking over the what the man had told him "These were just shipped from Black Marsh coated in some rare poison out there...i have ten in stock". Valen flipped the arrow between his fingers he had half the mind to try these out on that blasted Altmer the thought of her writhing in pain as she slowly died was strangely soothing.

He wondered if she and the Orc would be joining their group while Maria most likely wanted in the Altmer seemed a mystery. His animosity for her was clear but it wouldn't be the first time the group put him in a bad position. "It's what families do....is in't it Father" Valen called out to the looming sky. Valen slipped the arrow into his Quiver before opening his Pendent he rubbed the painting softly
"You are forever with me my Riel...be my strength as i am weak. Be my guide as i am lost, Be my heart as i am cold" he said quietly.

A moment passed Valen had decided " I am dedicated to my compainions, My new family i will do what i must for the Compainions" he cheered. Valen stood up and dropped of the ledge land safely on the street below people looked on. "walking is for nords" he said with a shrug as he jogged back to the Inn I won't let my feelings get in the way of my family Altmer be damned he thought.

[Assistant]
"I'll be the smartest decision you'll ever make." nodding confidently at the dunmer, having full hope that they're ready to seal the deal with her. Finally, things are looking up, though it won't be completely guaranteed, having some company around her would provide refuge from Maven's dirty surprises.

Maira clears her throat at the nord's comment. Of course the armor was a dead give away, guess its not much of a secret to hide anymore. "Oh, You don't have to worry about that. Technically, I'm on vacation." she gave him a reassuring nod "I dont do any of that unless it's solely for business."

Maira was quite surprised that Keldan too, would like to come along. The orc could tell things would either get complicated or interesting when decides to, adding the strain between her and Velan. Either way she definitely looks forward to her company. "Wonderful! The more the merrier I guess."

[User]
"Someone's appreciative of my healing!" Alit clapped.

She took her time considering the bard's offer, which in all actuality didn't take much time at all. She looked pleased, if her grin was anything to go by. "So, not one, but two new people joining in?" Alit hopped off the barstool, "Well! Maira, Keldan, I formally welcome you two into the team. Hopefully no one will have a problem with this." That meant they had a good number of people on the front lines as well as the back-- way better than what they started with. For the moment, she was thinking that everything that even thought about getting in their way was as good as dead.

[Assistant]
"You know you're my favorite healer, Alit." Jarett grinned at her, pushing a glass of water towards her. "Well, how about we toast? For our new members and actually getting something from this damn trip we took?" The carriage trip from Whiterun to Solitude had paid off with two new members. He turned to Zazar and handed the Argonian a drink. "Join us!"

"I'm all up celebrating," Keldan retook her glass. She was glad Alit had accepted her in this adventure. She was a bit rusty in combat, and she had recently learned some spells she was dying to try out and mess with some people. Maybe she could ask Maira to train with her. "I just hope your little friend isn't too much of a problem."

"We'll talk to him," Jarett glanced to Alit and Haskell. They knew Velan didn't do well around Altmer, but Keldan said she was willing to behave. He hoped she was telling the truth. He didn't want any trouble within the group. "I'll come up with team-building exercises that we can all practice." He said, half-jokingly. If there was going to be bad blood between the Altmer and the Bosmer, they would have to get past it and work together. Only time would tell.

"So, what's your plan?" Keldan raised an eyebrow at Alit.

[User]
Valen opened the door to the Tavern in dramatic fashion he was silent for a moment he glared at Keldan but for a moment he saw Maria's hand holding her. love well lust at the very lest....who am i to stand in it's way he thought. For now he would bite his tongue and try to make this work he could tell by the drinks that their group had grown by two members.

Valen walked over to the bar he had a large smile on his face "so Alit, Jarett i see you both wasted no time replacing me" he said jokingly. "Who am i kidding without me to guide you in the wilderness something terrible might happen Jarett could break a nail" Valen chuckled heavily. Valen took his seat next to jarett he looke over to Keldan "if i might ask can you pass me a mug i'd like to get onther drink in me" he said in the nicest tone he could muster in a pseudo peace offering.

[Assistant]
Alit readily accepted the water, glancing over at Valen as he returned with a very different tone. Come on. Keeping two archers around was a good thing. "True." she sipped the non-alcoholic drink, glad to have something after a long trip.

"Someone has to keep her from leading everyone into some plane of Oblivion," Haskell commented.

"Anyway," Alit set down the now-empty glass, "Before we can decide on a plan, we need to talk about our strengths and weaknesses in battle. I know Haskell can stay up front, he's got the heavy armor." She eyed the others, having a basic understanding of their abilities, but before now, it was mostly the Nord she fought with. "Valen, Keldan- What range are you two most comfortable with?"


[System]
The Roguish Feline Monk

"There are three ways that I deal with problems. Make friends with it, punch it, or sneak up to it, then punch it."

[User]
C o m b o w i t h c o r n e r e d b l i s s
_______________________________

A metallic clatter marked the final deathrattle of the incursion, an inert blade crashing to the wet stone at Solglia's feet. Yvah turned quick in her stance, snapping her gaze all around the room until it was clear to her that the hostility had passed. Her chest caved slightly as she sighed with relief. Nearly everyone stood, but to her side lay the bleeding body of a deathly pale elf. Another sacrifice for these aquatic cultists, it seemed. It almost looked as if they had came too late and done too little to save him, given a tense moment where she watched if his slowing breath would cease even after the bandages. They didn't, thankfully, and kicked back into full action again after another of the slated sacrifices poured a magically shimmering poultice down his gullet.

Again, Yvah turned, this time to Araerys. The bard seemed in dire straits indeed. With some effort, Yvah bounded over the tainted river, feet and palms planting on either side of the ruined corpse of the lesser dragonkin. Standing straight, with a flick of her tail, she wiped the grime of the floor off of her hands. Instead of a look of minor disgust at the mess of the place, she look concerned at Ary. Leaning from side to side, her eyes easily catching the torchlight as they flick around over the half-elf's form, she inspects the extent of the damage. "Are you going to be well?"

Araerys, so very relieved that the fight was finally finished, resheathed her rapier in order to place her hands over her knees and double over as exhaustion finally sank into her body. While definitely better off than the unconscious fellow who looked to be a new member of their party, the bard was very much looking forward to a rest of any sort. She watched as a few of her party members tended to the male's health, only tearing her squinted eyes away from them as Yvah approached. "Ah, yes, I think?" she replied, straightening up from her half-crouch to as best a standstill as she could. "Better 'n that guy, fer sure. But a bit of a sit down wouldn't be unwelcome." She nodded her head at the feline in turn: "Are you doin' okay?"

"I can still…" Yvah started to cough, covering her mouth to hack into her hand. A couple small spots of red dotted her palm when she pulled it away. She sighed, some grief tinging her belaboured exhalation. It seemed she wasn't so used to seeing blood on her hands anymore. Looking back to Araerys, with some disappointment in her voice, she said, "I can still fight."

The bard's eyebrows furrowed together in concern, assuming that what she saw in her hand was not a pleasant sight. Her reply urged an involuntary scoff and a dismissive wave of Ary's hand, though the half-elf did take a quick scan of their surroundings for any further signs of danger. It seemed they were in the clear for the time being, but these sewers had already proved nasty at every turn, and it wouldn't do well to let the guards down just yet. Still, she said, "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, there. Just get yer breath back."

Given a moment to breathe, Yvah set out within this main antechamber. Pacing around the walls, searching for things of interest, she eventually made her way to one of the twin ceremonial pillars. Examining the column that the pale elf was bound to, Yvah found little of note, but could tell that something must've been important there. She just didn't know what to look for. "Ay!" she called, "If either of you acolytes wants to take a look, I think there should be something here!"

Ary made her way over, wincing a little at the wound in her side now that the majority of the adrenaline had worn off, and took a peek at the throne. After a few moments of poking at it, it came to her attention that the seat could be lifted. "It looks like I can open this," she said to Yvah, reaching out to do just that.

The cat monk turned from her examination of the ceremonial pillar toward the sound of Ary's voice. Yvah had seen the throne there before, but didn't think of it as much other than a fancy chair until the bard started prying at the seat. She trotted over, pulling her tools from her billowing clothes, and knelt before the throne. With a handpick, she start pulling up at any structure of the thing until she saw movement. Cautiously, she held the secret compartment open just enough to slide the pick inside, and felt around for any mechanism that could be a trap. All she found were the hinges at the back, and she pulled the seat open freely.

Yvah had only seen some teasing glints within the forbidden storage, but as the hinges made their dim squeal in protest of her plundering her eyes sparkled nearly as much of the fistfuls of gems inside. Stacks of coin all in a neat pile to a side, with vials and dusty parchments to its flank, and gems of many sorts and colors dotted atop it all. The thieving feline seemed almost giddy compared to the gloom cast over her throughout this cathedral delve. Furred fingers made quick work stashing the jewels in the same pouch as the others, similarly making no attempts to hide it. However, the coinage was in a rather heavy abundance, and she wasn't inclined to carry it all with her.

Yvah turned within her crouch toward the party and waved her arm as the other held the distended cloth pouch aloft. "We just found the tithe, boys and girls!"

>Religion of 10 to examine the pillars
>Help action to Araerys, resulting in an Investigation of 14 on the throne.
>Short rest Hit Dice roll yields +6 to hp.

[Assistant]
The blade-wielding contents of the third tank the party had opened (Ulor did not have much else in the way of references for her, and, having been looking another way during most of the latest battle, could not even say what she had struck down) had somehow seen the occasion as an opportunity to rebuke his mending methods. Ulor scowled, or rather half-scowled by contorting his face in a slightly concerning way, so that only the one side of it that was partly turned towards the girl was frowning. For all he was concerned, the spattered makeshift bandage was enough for the elf not to die from bleeding within the hour, and therefore all he needed to do there. Sanitary? For all he knew, this prisoner might have come from warrens churning with maggots and dipping with slime. He was quite certain he had once read of elves that lived in just such a place. Or was it goblins? Regardless-

It is astounding how many mortals see the food matter the wrong way around.

"Food doesn't heal wounds, but drink does?" was all Ulor had the time to reply between the octopus's commentary and the feline calling out from further down the chamber. With a grunt, he rose from his crouch, propping himself up with his staff, and began to hobble towards the throne the fiend had been sitting on. While the prospect of a "tithe" had sparked his curiosity, seeing as these people were likely to toss all sorts of this under such a name, whether they belonged there or not, he could not but stop to throw a glance at the altar and the pillars surrounding it. What he saw was apparently notable enough for him to turn as he walked, approaching to peer at the constructions more closely, scratching and rapping on the stone. The mouth of a god... There was an odd, unnatural tension in the air between the columns. For some odd trick of the magical weave, he could almost picture a thread running from the altar to its twin on the other side of the sewer channel. No, that one was the mouth. This was the hand that brought the meals to it. He could feel that the unholy maw hungered still, calling silently for the life of hundreds to be fed into it. And yet...

No one has been sacrificed here yet.

Not that we can see, at least. There might have been others before.

As satisfied as he could have been with his brief survey, Ulor put an end to the detour and joined the pair near the throne. Bending over the seat, he began to rather unceremoniously rustle through its contents. The gold would certainly be useful, if everyone in this city was as averse to haggling as that one man who sold... What was he trying to buy then? Well, not that it mattered any longer.

There were also scrolls inscribed with what seemed to be arcane symbols. He lifted them one by one, running a finger over the lines of the signs and muttering something that did not appear to belong to any language under the stars. As he set each parchment aside, he briefly turned up his head and called out in hollow tones: "There are an incantation of insight... One of elemental chaos... One of mire- No, of treacherous soil." He doubted anyone else in the group would have much use for the spells, or even understand what he was speaking of, but it was safer to inform them of his findings in the event he should forget them later. Indeed, maybe there already was something the scrolls would be needed for? All the better to announce them properly.

"That might become necessary for one of them" he added, without looking up, while the octopus pointed one of its tentacles at a glinting pearl held in the brawler's paw. Who knew, they might have been capable of selling the things.

Last in the receptacle were two flasks, filled with unusual-looking fluids. One of them, red and glimmering, he recognised as similar to what had been forcibly administered to the unconscious elf. A drop of it on the tongue brought a fleeting, but potent sensation of vigour coursing through his body. Well. Perhaps drink can heal after all. Not wounds, maybe, but... The other was dull and layered like a crystalline tower. Its taste was likewise one of strength, but of a far more focused sort, echoing through hands and feet.

"Life and power held in glass." Those were simpler, likely accessible to the rest, and he had little need of reinforcing his toes. Nonetheless, if none would take them - as he dimly hoped in choosing mystifying words - he would not pass the opportunity of performing some alchemical experiments. Small, of course, and perfectly manageable. As circumstances would allow.

A 19 on a Religion check gives some information about the altar, and with a 16 on Arcana Ulor identifies the scrolls.


[System]
Age: 25

 Gender: Female

 Race: Naga (attempting to transition to another race through magical means)

 Class: Artificer

 Personality: Fieri Angharad is haughty and opinionated, and almost religiously believes in the superiority of magic over all other things. Fieri Angharad has spent decades working in a secluded university, away from all humanoid contact, and is exactly as desperate for affection as that implies. Beneath a thick veneer of contempt, Fieri Angharad is close to a child in terms of practical experience and romance. For some odd reason, Fieri "Diamond-Tail" Angharad insists that everyone refers to her by her full name, nickname and all. Thanks to a hostile environment outside of her birthplace and an inability to cope with it, Fieri is ashamed of her current state of being, and is seeking to change it as soon as possible. Due to this, Fieri gets flustered if her most prominent physical traits are exposed or accentuated.

 Fieri was born in the bustling town of Cartus Magnum, located in the western portion of the nation of Ithillin. Fieri's parents found work as porters and washerwomen in the prestigious university that largely encompassed the town's workings. Cartus Magnum University was a mage's college dedicated to teaching practical magic and hard sciences, and held a stable of fantastic teachers to facilitate this. People from across the continent came to the town almost exclusively to either work for or study in the university, and Fieri's family was no exception. Fieri's father was, rather controversially, a tenured Senior Wrangler, who very narrowly avoided being fired for an ill-advised fling with Fieri's mother, a migrant washerwoman. Unfortunately for both Fieri and her father, Fieri's mother abandoned the both of them almost as soon as she was born, moving on without even a word of warning. With no knowledge of how to raise a child and no wife to do it for him, Fieri's father did what he always did: let the university handle it. And so, Fieri's upbringing was brought entirely into the hands of the university's servants, professors, and students.

 Fieri spent almost the entirety of her life within the confines of the university. Educating the young Fieri was a pet project of most of the university's faculty, who found an unceasing audience in the cheerful naga. As Fieri grew, so did her wealth of knowledge. Mathematics, philosophy, theology, herbology, and artificing all opened their gates to Fieri. Thanks to her father's extensive connections with the university and Fieri's minor status as a staple of the university's live-in entertainment, Fieri was afforded the faculty's level best in education, for no charge-- after all, any money taken in for her education would go right back to her father.

 At the tender age of 18, a startling idea crossed Fieri-- she could be learning to have a job! Startled and mesmerized at the prospect of having to work to earn her daily bread, Fieri nervously opted to follow a career in artificing-- utilizing advanced magic to enchant mundane objects into powerful tools. The idea of making her job trivially easy without even needing to expend too much mana was immensely appealing to Fieri, and she threw herself into her studies with gusto. Fieri studied like a madwoman, egged on by her father, and very nearly graduated at the top of her class at the age of 24. With her magical potential unlocked through rigorous training and studying, and a bevy of spells and enchanted objects at her belt, Fieri... promptly attempted to return to her life of lazing about the university and looking smugly at the students. It was at that point that her father gently but firmly encouraged her to go find a job elsewhere, and politely informed her that, if she continued to stay at the university, she would be arrested and convicted for vagrancy. With no small amount of bitterness, Fieri moved out of the university, and set off into the world. Fieri now wanders aimlessly, searching for odd jobs and helpful servants.

 Equipment: Fieri Angharad is equipped with a variety of self-made magical tools. The weapons underneath are poor-quality, but the enchantments on them are made with love. Fieri's arsenal is as follows.
* Staff of the Diamond-Tail: a university-provided magical focus, that allows Fieri to store and release large amounts of mana. In effect, it is a battery, for intensive magical works. Thanks to the wonderful efforts of the university's engineers, this staff is also capable of drawing mana from ambient sources. In broad daylight or in the light of a full moon, the Staff of the Diamond-Tail regenerates mana very slowly. The staff is also quite sturdy and hurts to be hit with. It is currently filled with several days' worth of stored mana.
* Knife of Lacerations: A standard household bread knife, enchanted to unleash a blast of concussive force exactly the size of its blade on impact. It's useful against unarmored, unexpecting targets, but nearly worthless against armor.
* Bag of Holding: Fieri's thesis project. This is a simple leather satchel, enchanted to magically shrink down anything placed within it. Even thought it is about the size of a traveller's pack, its carrying capacity is about the size of a shipping crate.
* Mana Battery Kit: The mainstay of Fieri's repertoire, this is one of the only things that cannot be made by an artificer. With this advanced piece of magitechnology, one can handily replicate the effects of the university's staffs in a smaller and less powerful form. The kit takes any stone, metal nugget, or gemstone and fills it with mana. These mana-filled minerals can then be inserted into an artificed object to make them usable for non-mages. The more valuable and conductive the material used, the more mana the resulting battery can contain.

 Abilities: Fieri's magical powers are based around utilizing mana in its raw and pure form. These abilities are relatively expensive to use mana-wise, but can also draw from her staff's reserves.
* Mana Bolt: Fieri is capable of projecting a bolt of pure mana at her opponent. The bolt is relatively effective against uncovered flesh, and causes moderate to severe burns on contact. Against large amounts of mana, the bolt reacts violently and explosively.
* Miasma: Fieri is capable of venting large amounts of vaporized mana into the surrounding area at once. The mana, while not strictly toxic, is almost unbearably hot and temporarily interferes with any sources of magic. Prolonged exposure to Miasma results in severe nausea and disorientation. Fieri is not immune to the Miasma's effects.
* Artifice: The gross sum of Fieri's life and Fieri's true calling, this is what Fieri is best at. With a generous amount of mana, a targeted object, and some imagination, Fieri can enchant anything. The more valuable the object is, the easier it is to enchant. It takes half an hour to a day of concentrated work for an Artificing to be completed, and the resulting object must be charged with mana to function properly. What Fieri can enchant is limited only by her scientific knowledge and imagination-- if she can logically conceive of a way to make a ring capable of teleporting its wearer, Fieri can enchant one to do it. Researching and developing new enchantments takes time, mana, and plenty of test subjects. A list of enchantments Fieri currently knows follows.

	+ Emit Force/Absorb Force: Phenomenally simple, this enchantment is designed around converting mana into directed kinetic energy, either to work against incoming blows or amplify them.
	+ Emit/Absorb Heat: Exactly as simple, this enchantment is designed around emitting large amounts of heat or absorbing large amounts of it. With some more sophisticated supplementary enchantments, the weapon appears to emit flames or bolts of frost from it, though the effects are the same.
	+ Discharge/Absorb Mana: This enchantment is explicitly required on every Cartus Magnum Artificer's products, for safety reasons. Upon being discharged, the enchanted object immediately releases all stored mana in a single blast that, at higher levels, overloads other magical items and causes extreme burns. Upon its Absorb function being activated, the object briefly draws from any source of mana directly connected to it.
	+ Feather/Burden: A simple and efficient enchantment, used widely across the continent. When active, the enchantment actively lifts itself (or pushes itself down), making carrying heavy objects significantly easier. In most cases, Feather is attached to armor.
	+ Grow/Shrink: A strange branch of enchantment explored by few, the effects of these enchantments are directly tied to the current size of the object affecting it. When activated, anything touching the enchantment will be either shrunken or grown to a predetermined level. At the same time, both its volume and mass change, allowing for even heavy objects to be carried with ease.

[User]
"Fear not, Lady Tanya!" decreed Marc from his abnormally tall perch. He was not the diminutive lady that stood by his side! Over the heads of his cohorts, he spied a dashing looking individual, dressed like a treasure hunter and quite well armed for her station. Wonderful! "There! A treasure hunter! Truly she will help us in our noble cause." Calling out to the lady he would later learn was named Liliana, he spoke loudly. "My dear lady! Please! Join us in our adventure! We are most pleased to have you with us!"

Who else could they grab? Marc was just the meat shield on this adventure but he didn't let a little thing like that bring him down. Not when there were so many strange and wonderful people to meet! "Well, there is also this fox lady!" he said, verbally mangling the race of the strange woman tending to the drunkard's wounds. "And the man with the magical staff," he said, nodding to Leander, "though he does look a tad blue. Perhaps he needs cheering up?" He laughed at his own joke before continuing. "And the drunkard, and the man who put the drunkard through a table! All worthy allies, assuming our fair Miss Sophia is able to tend to the woman's wound."

On that note, and satisfied that he highlighted all of the individuals he deemed worthy for the cause, he kneeled down next to the drunken, injured woman and the two tending to her. "Miss Sophia," he said, his voice warm and caring. "I know that you worry about your powers, and that you underestimate your confidence, but please know that we believe in you. You will do fine." He patted her on the shoulder as he spoke. He hoped that would reassure her enough to work her wondrous magic.

[Assistant]
"Whatinthe..." by then, Cristine's vision had gone blurry and her words more slurred than before. She didn't seem to notice the woman toying around with Cristine's arm until Cristine realized she couldn't move her own arm. That was not the first thing she noticed.

"You got... dog ears..." Cristine remarked as she reached out her working hand to touch Haruka's ears. By the time she grabbed on, the woman had already left, leaving Cristine to stroke the air with her fingers. She giggled in her drunken stupor, making a hiccup before falling slightly, over, and then back again. She could feel something being poured down her mouth. It didn't taste like beer, but the knight had already lost most of her senses to know. Sergeant Wykes gulped it down like a champ.

"So... yeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaah" Sergeant Wykes slurred. "What's all this stuff about adventure?"

[User]
Haruka nodded at Al, her tail's wagging slowing somewhat. While she was still excited, as always she was, things seemed to have calmed down a little. This drunken lady was taking having a broken arm like a champion, even for someone as deeply inebriated as her. It was really quite impressive.

"Yes, tall person," Haruka agreed, "We will need much alcohol handy for this woman until the injury heals, for pain reasons. If you would purchase for her a bottle for later, that would be-"

The drunken knight attempted to play with Haruka's ears, and they twitched slightly despite the woman being quite far off.

"Yes, for later. I think that she is well alcoholed at this moment," Haruka finished, nodding. She looked around her and marveled at the diverse Western group that surrounded her. There was even a bird! Truly, the West was a mysterious and strange place. One of them even called her a fox, which made Haruka momentarily consider exactly what her own characteristics meant. Perhaps she was a fox, and she just didn't know it. Kitsune were tricky, after all. So tricky, that perhaps they could even trick themselves.

Entire seconds of introspection happened before Haruka decided that this was too hard for her and stopped. Since Haruka was done with the arm now and the bird was busy with something, perhaps it was time to gather some information.

"Why are you people entering the castle of an angry man named Haldric?" she asked the paladins, "And why is he angry? Did you do something mean to him, and are going to make apology?"

[Assistant]
Fieri Angharad's dedicated searching eventually paid off. Sure enough, there was a sizable hole in the building's foundation. Though it was too high off the ground to simply walk into, the stonemasonry below it was rough and uneven-- perfect for climbing. Using her hands to propel her upwards and her muscular tail as a muscular anchor, Fieri gradually slithered up to and through the precipice without any trouble. With one mighty lunge, Fieri heaved herself into the tower's innards... and landed heavily on a moldering stone staircase. There were no innards, save for a single winding staircase.

Fieri grunted with equal measures frustration and pain. No lobby meant no easy place to set up shop! She'd be forced to crawl into the moldy musty underbelly of this damned dungeon! Worse yet, she'd have to use the stairs! Accidentally slamming the base of her tail on every step, Fieri slowly and achingly began making her way down the stone stairway.

Just as Fieri was starting to ponder about the depth of this seemingly-endless staircase, she heard a soft click. A trap had been sprung! The stone steps slowly began to angle themselves downward and rescind, leaving only a slippery, wet, stony ramp! This surprising change of events, while potentially disastrous for a biped, served only to make the snake-bodied Fieri's job easier. Her tail muscles easily gripped the imperfections in the stone steps, and all downward progress was handily halted. With no steps to bruise her tail on, Fieri quietly praised the designers of the Mad King's dungeon for their diligent concern for handicapped intruders.

At the base of the stairs was a quite inconvenient gap. Presumably, bipedal intruders would have found themselves sliding unstoppably to whatever lied below. Fieri, however, managed to stop herself in time. Coiling her tail and springing it forward, Fieri leaped over the gap and made it to the floor beyond with a meaty thud. Suffering only a few tail bruises and a wet underbelly, Fieri surged with confidence. She continued on into the depths of the dungeon, in search of plunder and marketing opportunities.


[System]
Alias - N/A

Species - Wookie

Gender - Male

Age - 181 standard years old

Appearance - Raarkoo's fur covers his entire body, on his face are a few distinguishable features. Just below his left eye is a burn mark, across his lips is a scar.

Height - 2.2 meters

Weight - 253 pounds

Apparel/Armor - As he is a wookie, Raarkoo does not really wear clothing. His thick fur provides resistance to the elements and some natural protection. He has a bandoleer which contains ammunition and around his hips is a sturdy leather belt which contains supplies. Also on the belt are holsters for his sidearm blaster and vibrosword. On his back is another holster for his bowcaster.

Weapons - Raarko's main weapon is a handcrafted bowcaster, the signature weapon of his species. He carries a secondary weapon in the form of a Model 434 heavy blaster pistol. For close range encounters Raarko has a vibroblade.

Equipment - A M-TD miniaturized translator droid, Imperial Peace-Keeping Certificate, grappling spike launcher, credit chip, Whipcord launcher and Bacta spray.

Personal starship - Raarko flies a G1-M4-C Dunelizard fighter. It is a relatively quick craft that is equipped with twin medium laser cannons, a missile launcher and shields. It is a common sight amongst bounty hunters and is enough for Raarko.

Skills - * Raarko is highly skilled with his bowcaster, it's is favored weapon though he is proficient with other blasters.
* He is a fearsome melee combatant, his pure physical strength is often enough to win close quarters battles. But he is trained with his vibroblade and enjoys using it.
* As a wookie he is naturally stronger than many other species, almost to an absurd degree. Wookies have a reputation to rip someone's arm out if they anger them, Raarko is no different.
* He's a natural climber, trees in particular are something climbed with ease. He's also faster than he would appear for his towering size.
* Raarko is also great at tracking, able to do it on all terrains but forests in particular. He knows how to lay down traps and often does so.
* Solid starship pilot, no an ace but can hold his own.
* He understands his native language, Galactic Basic and Huttese. He cannot speak the latter two though.

Flaws - * He is prone to intense bouts of anger. It doesn't take a whole lot to stir his temper.
* Unable to speak any language except for his native tongue. Requires his translator droid when speaking to non-Wookies.
* Raarko is completely ruthless, when tracking a bounty he lets nothing stand in his way. While he doesn't enjoy killing civilians, if they are in his path then he's not afraid to cause collateral damage.
* He's very cocky and looks down at many other species. He'll often crack remarks about his superior strength and power.
* Raarko does not have many friends and is used to working alone. So much so that he almost prefers it. He rarely trusts others.
* He has an intense hatred for Trandoshans, just being in the presence of one makes him want to rip its head off. He doesn't work with them no matter the situation. Also hates the Empire but works with them because they pay very well.

Personality - Raarko is a fierce wookie with a volatile temperament, this is a stereotype of the race but he pretty much embodies it. He's quick to anger and when angry tends to destroy walls, doors and items around him. He's not afraid to speak his mind on matters, though to non speakers of his language his words just sound like growls and roars. He has few friends throughout the galaxy but those that he has he protects with intensity. He respects courage and boldness, a way to earn his respect is to best him in combat honorably or fight alongside of him.

Backstory - Raarko was born on the wookie homeworld of Kashyyyk, his family was large and very close. He spent his early years learning the wookie way of life. It was during this time that he learned about the beauty of his homeworld, the fierce and sometimes gentle wildlife, the massive trees his people climbed. Being on forested worlds to this day reminds him of his homeworld. When he reached adulthood he stayed on his homeworld, becoming a hunter for his people.

It was his job to track down and kill wild creatures so that the people in his village could eat. Life was simple and like this for many years. He met a female wookie who would become his wife, eventually he had a son. He was happy on his homeworld, there was rarely conflict and any outsiders that came to the world were merchants who meant his species no harm. For decades it went like this until the Clone Wars began and his planet became a sight for battle.

He fought in the battle of Kashyyyk, on the frontlines with thousands of his race. Some were scared of the fearsome droid army that was going to bear down on them, but these fears were shot down. His people were backed by the Republic army and Jedi. Combat began quickly but dragged on in a back and forth conflict, neither side seeming to push the tide of war their way. Many of Raarko's friends perished in battle, though he survived it.

Then everything changed as the Republic fell and the Empire rose, it was all a blur to him as he watched clone troopers gun down their Jedi generals as they were branded traitors to the Republic. His people were enslaved by the now Imperial forces as they took his homeworld, Raarko was sent to mine spices and split from his family. He didn't see his son or wife again.

For a few years he was forced to work intense and brutal labor as he mined spices. He worked it alongside of his race, many died during the forced labor. Raarko and a few of his fellow wookies broke away and escaped one day, flying away into space away from the mines.

With nowhere else to turn Raarko became a bounty hunter, there were few free wookies throughout the galaxy at that time, a good amount of them became bounty hunters. He put his skills as hunter to work, carving out a solid reputation as a freelance bounty hunter. Years of work lead him to working with the Empire, a prospect he was at first nervous about until he proved an asset to them after tracking and capturing some of their targets.

He didn't like working for the people that enslaved his people and was watchful of them every second he was in their presence. He received the message from the Empire about a lucrative job offer and took it.

[User]
Vidori "Sellgun" Selgan

Sellgun walks straight into the CorSec office through the front door and straight up to the receptionist, who gives him a stock greeting. He nods and smiles and responds, "Good day miss, I need to talk to the highest ranking person you have on site, preferably one with your tactical response teams, oh and feel free to mention the word 'pending assassination' to him to get him to see me." One hand surreptitiously flicks a camera onto the underside of her desk with a view of the door. His weapons and gear is nicely concealed under his coat.

[Assistant]
Upon hearing back from his lackeys, the first thing Bodaan does is to order Carth to seek invitation for him. Receiving an invitation to the ball would be better than sneaking or breaking in for one of the targets, and a high profile celebrity like himself shouldn't have too much difficulty in securing an invite, last minute or not. "And if you receive any trouble in getting me an official invitation, tell them that I plan on donating the winnings of my next race to... Whatever this society event is about." He switched off the comlink and proceeded into the law enforcement office with Luke. Bodaan had zero intention of keeping that promise, but hopefully it wouldn't come to that anyway.

He and Luke approached the nearest officer, and the hunter addressed them by showing his bounty hunter's license. "The Imperials have some high profile targets that are hiding out somewhere in Coronet. If I do not capture them quickly, the Empire will flood your streets with stormtroopers and instill martial law, disrupting the peace and making you all look incompetent in the process. Let's avoid that. I'll need access to all information you have available on these individuals."

[User] Sol'id Fist stepped off the landing platform and found himself within the crowds and bowels of Treasure Ship Row. As he marched through the wide avenues and thick crowds, men, women, and aliens parting before him, he thought of his next move. He recalled two old friends that lived around these parts, and in all probability he would talk to both. First however, he'd check up on Othik Chekka. The Information Broker had been thorough on their last meeting. He would see if the Rodian had anything valuable to share. The big Mandalorian kept his shoulders relaxed as he walked, but his eyes were ever moving behind his visor, and his hands held onto his custom rifle with practiced ease.

[Assistant] "Boss, we have received a new bounty on the way to Correllia, from an Imperial Admiral, five people, three human, Twi'lek and a Sullustan, more details on the datapad."  Cobbler reports to his Bothan owner, sitting in the cockpit. "Thank you Cobbler, but let's deposit our ambassador first... How long till Correllia J7?" Kai requests, starting to drink some form of beer. An accompanying beep chirps from a recently polished R2 unit. "Around five minutes sir, you really need to allow me to teach you how to understand R2J7 one day..." Cobbler translates with reasonable disgust, waddling to some part of the ship. A disagreeable beep emits from J7, continuing to pilot the ship. Kai leaves his reliable little pilot to get his hunting equipment ready. A minute later Kai is cleaning and arranging his hunting clothes and equipment in a shooting range-like weapon storeroom, training his aim on three deactivated B1 battle droids dressed in certain forms of armour, the Bothan's aim being quite decent, deciding to activate one of the clankers, now testing Kai's aim on moving and panicked targets.


[System]
Gender: Male
Age: 16

Appearance: Izayoi is a slim, sharp-eyed young man with shaggy, messy locks of silky black hair. He stands at around the average height for a teenager his age - 5'10" or 5'11", and seems to view the world around him with a casual confidence - his face impassive, or lips curled back into his usual, enigmatic smirk. His eyes themselves are, perhaps, the most mystifying of his unassuming features. They are a crimson-gold, glinting whenever his emotions run high. They're usually sitting behind black-rimmed, rectangular glasses, but since they're only really needed for reading, Izayoi tends to keep 'em off whenever possible.

Personality: Izayoi is somewhat mysterious, despite him seeing himself as quite straightforward. At first, he comes off as somewhat quiet, if not very observant and shrewd - but that isn't from any sort of inert social anxiety...he simply likes to see what his options are before he acts. Going deeper, however, it's quite obvious to see what he truly is underneath - an endlessly empathetic and kind young man with an incredibly sharp and dry wit, a cool head, and a hero's heart. He moves with the casual, quiet confidence of someone self-assured, but not to the point of arrogance and cockiness. He has a laidback demeanor to him, and combined with his natural determination and focus, makes him incredibly easy to rely on. He's the one to ease the tension in a room with a well-timed quip, that damned smirk on his lips despite the drama.

Surprisingly enough, he's a big fan of theatrics and plays, and believes wholeheartedly in 'aesthetics' and 'style', even going so far as to make himself a grand entrance if the situation allows. This hobby of his also translates into his everyday life, Izayoi himself being a natural smooth-talker, always with a comeback on the tip of his tongue. Despite all of this, he is, like anyone, not perfect. He has a boiling point, and pissing him off to the point where his wit turns into toxicity...probably isn't the best idea. His once warm eyes turns cold, and he doesn't really have a filter on what he can say or do next. Injustice and unnecessary cruelty and idiocy are two main things that pisses him off. He has absolutely no problems with going against the law if it means helping someone in need, which can be a point of consternation with other Heroes.

Quirk/Flaw: Shadow's Embrace - Have you ever wondered what it would feel like, to be one with the very darkness itself? Well, it just so happens that Izayoi's inner Quirk makes that thought...a reality. He can feel the shadows - writhing and constantly shifting beneath the gazes of humanity. And, with that connection, comes control. Izayoi has the ability to manipulate the shadows, making them tangible and dangerous, sharp or hard, thick or thin, warm or cold. The more shadows and darkness that is in the area, the more powerful his Quirk has the potential of being. It doesn't follow any laws of science or physics - it's his will, pure and simple, and Izayoi just so happens to have a shit ton of willpower. It's strength is its pure versatility in what it can accomplish, and how it allows Izayoi to approach any situations from a multitude of angles. Weaknesses are pretty blatant, and rather annoying - large amounts of light tends to make his shadows and darkness weaker and more incline to retreat away.

Reasoning: Being a Hero was something he'd always dreamed of being, be it Underground or with an official Hero Agency, and he plans to surpass all expectations, no matter what. He has no incredibly long backstory or anything - back when he was a little kid, his family was a normal one, and they lived a relatively quiet life on the outskirts of a small Japan village. Only after a Villain attacked their little settlement, did they all get a genuine feel of what this world was like. The Heroes had been too late - and destruction had been rampant. He doesn't rightly know if his family survived - it's doubtful, but by the time the Heroes arrived, Izayoi had already lost all hope, curled up underneath a large piece of concrete, huddling away. From then on, even as he was transferred to a larger city and given to a kind orphanage, Izayoi promised himself to become strong - strong enough to stop anything like that from happening again. U.A. is the first step.

Favorite Hero: All-Might was his favorite.

Skills: For one, Izayoi is naturally intelligent, and his mental acuity comes into fruition in both academic and battlefield scenarios. He's quick to act, and even quicker to lead, keeping cool in times of strife and tragedy. He has trained a lot in preparation for U.A., and in return, has a very good grasp on both his Quirk, and it's potential strengths and weaknesses. He doubts that he's the best in hand-to-hand combat, but he knows a bit when it comes to deflecting/countering, and he has great hand-to-eye coordination.

[User] The crisp, summer air hit down on the concrete before all of UA High school's large campus. Outside, three of the new teachers kept the press away from the entrance so that the new entrants wouldn't have nearly as much of a problem getting in. They struggled against the large bands of tape set up to keep them out by the hero: cellophane, alumni happy to welcome new heroes into the school. Growling angrily to make sure no one tries anything was a man standing in a cameo military uniform, holding a powerful rifle in his hand, his left eye like a target, the right with a large pupil. This was the one and only Deadshot, the hero with the best aim in the world. Finally, standing more to welcome the new heroes-to-be was the legendary number one hero in all his fame and pride, standing proud and tall: Deku!. As the three awaited the new students they would happily welcome them in with a 'congratulations on making it in!' or 'good luck' with the occasional pat on the back. As each student filed into their classes, the press backed off knowing what would happen if they tried to force their way in. Those of the Hero would be making their way there, dressed in the newly ironed uniforms, taking in the large building, now ready to meet their fellow classmates. The room was large, open with a perfect square of desks neatly set up for students to sit in. There appeared to be far more seats than the class would actually consist of. Before them was a podium that would be used for a teacher to stand up and teach the students. There was no teacher to be seen, however, and as such, the chalkboard that read: "find a seat" could be seen right behind the podium. And so the first class of UA was going to begin.

[Assistant] Lucas looked around, taking in the sights as he approached the entrance. He then searched for his classroom and, upon entering, found it to be empty. "Huh, guess I'm the first one here. I figured more people would have been excited and gotten here early, like me." he said to himself. He saw the sign saying to find a seat and decided to pick one in a corner, near the window. He wondered who their teacher would be, as well as who else would be in his class with him, and what their quirks would be like.

[User]
Haley walked between the hordes of the press rubbing one of her shoulders as she was fairly embarrassed from all the attention. She briefly looked at Deadshot and almost couldn't contain her excitement, if it were not for the crowds of people with cameras and microphones she might have squealed with joy. As she walked towards the gates of the UA High school her excitement started to show in her movements, he walk had changed into a slight skip.

Then as the gates passed over her head and there was nothing obscuring her vision of the massive UA complex her eyes actually began to water. I've made it! I am actually here! She squealed quietly to herself so she could vent some of her excitement, she slowly calmed down as she made her way to the changing rooms. She was happy finding that the uniforms had long sleeves, but less so about the short skirts. She was glad that she brought a thick pair of her own leggings. she was shy about her body even tho her parents strive to convince her otherwise.

After changing it was finally time, she was walking up on the door to her classroom and she was kind of nervous. Don't worry Haley you got this! I'm sure they'll be friendly! I hope. She slides the door open and only sees one kid sitting up the back, oh. She smiles and gives a small wave. "Hi." She can't help but feel like she needs to say more but can't think of anything, she then looks at the board and then takes a seat on the very right of the second row of chairs. I wonder where the teacher is.

[Assistant]
Seth let out a yawn as he walked towards AU. He had been up all night helping his dad work on a client's car. She had wanted the car ready by next month, but her son was being deployed early and wanted to know if the car could be done today. His dad assured her that the car would be and told Seth to head to bed while he finished up. However, Seth protested and said the two of them could finish a whole lot faster. His dad thanked him and the two worked on the car until 3 AM before they decided the small amount the needed to do could wait till tomorrow.

The next morning Seth helped his dad with the little remaining work before he headed off to AU. He was so tired that he didn't notice the oil and grease on his hands, arms, pants, and a small line of oil on his right cheek. He let out another yawn as he passed by a group of reporters that was heckling some of the students heading into AU. They paid him no mind until they saw him turn and head inside the Academy grounds. They tried to get his attention, but because of his noise canceling headphones blaring rock music. He didn't hear them call to him.

He saw where the students were heading and soon followed them. He walked into the class room and looked around. He narrowed his eyes to focus them on the chalk board until he could read the words.

"Guess we get to choose our seats," He said to himself before he yawned again. He maneuvered his duffle bag's strap on his shoulder and loud clangs could be heard inside of it. He then proceeded towards the back of the room and took a seat. He placed the duffle bag on the ground causing more metal clangs before he placed his head on his arms and started to fall asleep.

[User] Lucas almost jumped when someone suddenly came into the room. He turned to see a girl walk in, look at him, and say Hi. He stared, dumbfounded for a bit, thinking Wow, this girl is cute... Then he shook himself out of his thoughts and, turning slightly red, said "H-Hi!" and waived back to her. Good one Lucas, now she probably thinks you're a creep for staring at her. Just then, someone else came barging in, covered in grease, and making a racket, before picking a seat and dozing off. He took a deep breath and got up from his seat. If he was going to be a hero, he had to get over his shyness. And what better way, than talking to a cute girl? He slowly made his way toward her seat, nervous. When he finally reached her he took a deep breath and said "Umm, hello again. M-my name is Lucas Buki, p-pleased to meet you!" He took a bow, and whacked his head on her desk.

[Assistant]
It was an...odd feeling, being back in a public school after so many years of home tutoring. Well, this wasn't exactly a 'public school', in the strictest terms of the definition...more like a Private Academy, but the feelings still stood! Izayoi Kageyama made his way to the designated classroom, his lithe form smoothly avoiding collision against rushing students as they fought to make their way to their classes before the 'tardy bell'. Honestly, he found the entire situation somewhat amusing...most of 'em had spent at least five minutes outside, gawking at the Academy building, so he didn't really see why they decided to pick up the pace as soon as they actually entered the school...but eh, it wasn't really his business, was it?

Idly, the teenage hero ran a pale hand through his shaggy head of black hair, shaking the organized chaos with a flick of the wrist, before bringing his hand back down into his pocket. The school uniform was a bit annoying, but nothing that he hadn't expected - the slacks were slim on his long legs, and he knew that the blazer and shirt/tie combo complimented it well, so it wasn't too much of an eyesore. Still, Golden eyes twitched slightly in faux annoyance, Gray? Why such a muted color?

So focused on his thoughts, that Izayoi hadn't even noticed that he'd reached the classroom until he almost slammed face-first into the wooden door. Thankfully, reflexes kicked in, and he swiftly side-stepped the broad side, twisting the knob with a quick flick of the wrist and neatly stepping through the entrance. Surprisingly enough, there weren't many students inside - only a few...one girl, and two dudes, it seemed. Izayoi's calm, sharp gaze quietly flitted between the three, taking in everything he could see on the exterior.

The girl seemed pretty relaxed, all things considered, and the boy currently talking to her had just...hit his head on her desk? Izayoi's stoic demeanor threatened to break, so he quickly turned his attention to the other guy, unable to stop the slow, amused smirk that had fallen onto his lips. The ginger boy seemed much more in control than the black-haired one, that's for sure. He also seemed to have a lot of grease and oil covering his body...probably from working on vehicles before coming to the Academy today? There was quite a bit of it, too.

Alright then, the least he could do was help the guy out, right? No one probably told him that he was covered with grease. Kinda screwed up.

"Yo." Izayoi greeted the girl and boy - that was currently in the opposite corner of the room. He gave them a friendly wink, his amused smirk only growing as he eyed the two. "You should probably get that forehead checked out, man." He tossed his bag over his shoulder, heading towards the ginger boy on calm, casual footsteps. Once he reached the dude's desk, he leaned back on the desk behind him, dropping his bag on the floor and letting out a relaxed sigh.

"Ah...feels good to sit. Anyways, quick tip," Izayoi blinked his eyes, leaning forward a bit. One slender hand rose to point at the boy's face.

"You have oil on your cheek." His smirk turned into a crooked half-grin.


[System]
Location:

Demographics:
-Svellgotar (Humans): Majority of population
-Mikilalfr ("Light" or "Grassland" Elves): Minority, settled around the plains
-Jarnalfr ("Dark" or "Hill" Elves): Minority, settled in the hills or mountains
-Lyoralfr ("Half" Elf): Rare

Climate: Temperate and Alpine Tundra

Description:
The Kingdom of Skræling is nestled far in the northern part of the Sunrise Lands. Nestled beyond the high mountains in the north lays a very isolated populations of people. The Svellgotar natives are people of a culture made to brash the harshness of the climate to the north. Though their clan mentality has not allowed this "kingdom" to truly unite. Skræling is ruled under a single Hargramr or "High King" who sits upon the throne located from their clan's capital. The king is passed down to the first born son of the current King, but the title can be stripped or passed on to another clan if the current king is defeated in combat. This system has kept the clans in relative power to one another, but has disallowed any true unity amongst the many clans in the north.

On the exterior they mean seem brutish and cold like their homeland in the winters, they can also be much like their home in the spring and summer. They are a hearty and hardworking country known for its bounty of grains and potatoes which are a hardy vegetable and a key ingredient in their diet. Due to their location beyond the mountain and the only access into their lands being between valleys they are experts on the sea. Whether they be used to trade their goods along the coastline with the various kingdoms or if a clan is in dire need of food or currency they can easily launch raids that can devastate those along the coast, and be in and out as if they hadn't even been there.

Their relationship with their Elven neighbors is one embroiled in war, and in peace. They are currently in an age of peace with their fellow natives of the north. The elves passing on their knowledge of iron, music, and art with them. It is a wonderful sight to see Men and Elves singing along a communal village pyre passing around alcoholic beverages to one another.

[User]
Môrogoed
Wal Ddraig

A pair of kobold scouts crept quietly through the forest near the banks of the river. The rest of their raiding party were 2 beats of a dragon's wings behind them. They had been sent ahead to make sure the way was clear of any danger and if it wasn't, that the raiding party knew about it before they got themselves killed walking into a trap. So far the night had been uneventful. The forest was silent, the water was calm, and there wasn't a single hint of danger in sight. The kobold scouts were beginning to wonder if their job was necessary at all. Then a pair of familiar scents met their noses.

The 1st scout to catch the scent suddenly stopped his partner and began sniffing at the air. "Do you smell that" the 1st scout asked.
The 2nd scout took a moment to sniff the air before replying. "Elf flesh and...the master's breath? Here?" he said "But he hasn't left the mountains in millennia".
"I think I know why that is" the 1st replied before moving towards the source of the scent, the 2nd scout following close behind.

When the scouts arrived at the scents source, the 1st scout's suspicion had been confirmed. There they found several elves standing around a great pyre. They carried with them a flame that was nothing like the fires produced by the hands of mere mortals. The scouts looked at each other. They knew what this place was. They knew what had taken place here. They knew what that pyre was. And most importantly, they knew what lighting that pyre meant. "We must return to the rafts" the 1st scout said as the the pyre was set ablaze "We must let the others know. The elves wish to discuss tribute".

[Assistant]
Lorea
Eastern plains

Evening. The sun was setting, the sky turned a reddish orange where once it had been clear and blue. The air was thick with smells of grass and horses, as well as the fires burning around the camp. The party of warriors had settled down for the night, a small spot of light in a sea of darkness. Sounds of quiet conversation mingled with the soft breathing and neighing of the horses, and a lone singer carried a tune throughout the gathered crowd, but apart from that all was silent.

Sparrow sat looked at the fire, poking at it with a stick. She could feel Alvors gaze upon her from across the flames, but didn't meet his gaze. She knew what was coming, and it frustrated her. Lord or not, he could be quite bothersome at times. Besides, she didn't feel like speaking. Then again, she reckoned she'd have to before the night was over. Finally he broke the building tension.

"You do not agree with my decision today." he said. For once it was not a question. She still did not meet his gaze.

"I do not." she replied.

"What did you not agree with?" There you go. He just couldn't help himself. Sparrow closed her eyes and took a deep breath before answering.

"I do not think we should have let them go without paying." She thrust hard at the burning logs, sending up a crackling little cloud of sparks.

"I do not understand. As I recall, they did pay us." he droned. She grimaced at that.

"In silver, yes."

"Then I do not understand what it is that upsets you." But she knew that he knew all too well. He would have her spell it out non the less.

She put the stick in the fire, put her hands on her knees and looked him right in the eyes. His face was calm, searching. She was aware that others were listening now, but did not care. Let them hear her question him. Let them hear her speak the truth they all knew too well. She was his second, and as such the only one who could do it. Damn it, it was her duty.

"It was not sufficient, Alvor. They got away too cheap."

"But they did not have more to spare. You were there, Sparrow. You heard their master." As if she hadn't.

"They should have paid in blood, then."

He frowned. "Even after giving us what silver they could spare?"

She was losing her temper now. "Yes! As I said, it was not enough! First they disrespect our land and people by not paying homage and toll, as is customary. Then, when caught red handed, they moan about not having enough, further solidifying their position. We were righteous in our claim, and would have been righteous still to demand more of them! They will not respect us in the future if they can get away with slights such as this!"

More people were watching and listening now. She knew that many of the warriors agreed with her. She had heard the disappointed murmurs when they'd left the caravan behind without even half the bounty they'd set out to get. Alvor was silent a long time before he replied, a frown still on his face.

"Righteous, yes. But would we have been gracious?"

"Gracious?" she spat, "Why would we want to be graci-" He held up his hand, and she quit speaking in an instant.

"Let me finish." he said, now speaking not only to her but to all the nearby listeners, "Lady Aurelia teaches justice and harshness against those that are wicked, yes. But does she not also teach mercy and forgiveness against those who fail us?"

"I do not see how that is of any concern to us now." Sparrow retorted with a snort.

"Then let me put it like this. The master of the caravan was new to his trade. He has not come this way before and has not met us before. He might have known of the toll and our customs, but may also not have known how to, or where to, find us. If we had taken our due in blood today, what would he have learned? What news would he have given his countrymen back east? Perhaps that we are ruthless barbarians who steal and kill. What might he instead have learned from our mercy today? Hopefully that we Loreans are hard but fair in our dealings with others, and that paying the toll is worth the price. Do you understand my meaning?"

She tried to hold his gaze, but couldn't. She was still frustrated, but not because she didn't agree with him. He was right; he was always right, damnit, and now he'd made her make a fool of herself in front of all the others. Then again, many of the gathered seemed to shared her thoughts as they too looked away in shame or quiet contemplation.

"Yes" she admitted, "I understand your meaning."

He nodded and smiled. "This pleases me. Now, as they've payed the toll and homage, we are obliged to guide and protect them for as long as they tread our soil. Sparrow, I want you to take a dozen riders and intercept the caravan once more. Offer your services to them and speak for them when they encounter the other tribes. Return to Neme once you've seen them on their way."

Not letting me off easy, are you? "Yes, my lord. Your will be done."