Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » The Elder Scrolls: Vivec's Trail (OPEN)

The Ohmes Khajiit reread the torn, bloodstained poster he had been carrying for so long during his trip into Morrowind, before returning his eyes to the rather unimpressive tower that was nestled by hot marshes that bordered northern Argonia. He had stumbled upon this strange call to arms during one of his trips into Cyrodiil's Valus Mountains, looting the parchment from an anorexic corpse nearby a masculine shrine to Boethia. The abdomen of the dead Dumner was soaked in blood; the one wound being a very round puncture, much like a small open plug. The history of this strange sheet of paper or(and) who it actually belonged to has concerned J'o Rahe little, but the chance of being able to explore the void of Oblivion was one that Rahe found too difficult to pass up, despite the fact that pursuing this enigmatic Telvanni wizard had taken the Khajiit into the marshes of Tear. He was right to dread this land, for it was home to the Dres slavemasters. Although Tear had been sacked by vengeful Argonians over a century ago, the muddy swamps seemed to hide bitter outlaws; if they had their way, they would see Rahe in chains, regardless of the recent laws of slavery.

The architecture of the small tower made it stick out from the other Dunmeri halls that Rahe had come across. It was... 'different' he thought, for the tower itself looked less like a tower, and more like a wide tree that'd had a door carved upon it. Rahe clenched his glass-clad fist and banged on the strange door's wooden frame three times, each with a moment's pause. He desperately hoped that this whole advertisement was not some sort of complicated practical joke, probably commissioned by Sheogorath. The Khajiit was somewhat relived when the door opened speedily; a sneering Dark Elf wizard bearing a purple robe fiercely swung the circular doorway open, surveying the unwelcome guest. Rahe had taken many precautions before entering the Dres swamps, including removing all of his Khajiiti warpaint from his face, and having his glass helmet reforged with unusual lens that seemed to conceal his eyes.

There was the stench of soot and destructive charge that seemed to escape into the air of the marsh, an immediate piece of evidence that this was indeed the home of a powerful mage. "Who rudely disturbs the home of a peaceful hermit!?" The Telvanni magister hissed "Speak quickly Bosmer, for I am not interested in whatever chatter you bring!" It was not but a few seconds afterwards that Rahe the 'Bosmer' raised the ruined poster to the magister's whining face. "I heard you needed a good sword." Rahe replied patronizingly. "I know the distinct architecture of the Telvanni when I see it, and I can quite easily turn my generous services elsewhere, if that is what you wish..."

The venomous scowl that blemished the Dunmer's aged face shifted into a far more lighter hearted smile, if not a grin. Clasping his hands together as he leaned down to meet the smaller 'Bosmer's' concealed gaze. "My dearest apologies, brave traveller. I should have known better than to ignorantly discern the interest you have shown for my quest." The Dark Elf apologized; his sharp voice had simmered down into a far more warm and sweeter tone, almost like a kindly sage. "I cannot turn my back on a Tree Person this far in the east. If you would enter my most humble home, we can discuss the task at hand with the group I have inside. I was not expecting anyone else, so please forgive my sudden outburst." Both mer had finally entered the 'treehouse,' with the wet door slamming to a loud close.

Ember had been traveling for some time since she'd left Skyrim; the situation there had flatly grown unbearable. Kin fought kin, the dragons had returned and though Alduin had been defeated they were still a roving menace, and the land itself was no closer to being healed. Though the land had plenty of need for heroes, and indeed many of her fellow Companions were hard at work with their various jobs throughout all the holds, Ember had been the one to engage her wanderlust and travel further outside than most of them would care to. Perhaps it was her lack of racism (at least compared to the typical ethnically proud Nord) or maybe it was the beast blood that coursed through her veins and filled her dreams with visions of hunting and slaughter. Skyrim no longer held any rest for her, in the end, which is why the young woman found herself in Morrowind.

Were she being entirely honest with herself, the dark elves disturbed her some, not the least for their talents at dredging up the spirits of their ancestors to aid them in battle but also because their society in general was such a foreign one. Of all the mer, they were some of the hardest for her to understand, whereas by contrast she found that sh egenerally understood the Orsimer all too well. Granted she wasn't one herself and wasn't even considered blood kin to them but the warrior mentality was one she could embrace. Once a simple farmer's daughter, Ember was now a formidable fighter in her own right, and her lean body held tightly packed and well-formed muscle beneath her skin.

Morrowind was humid for her taste, by and large, lacking the chill of Skyrim but as she wore lighter armor it didn't bother the young woman much at all. A chain link shirt covered her torso, leather greaves on her legs with metal-studded boots on her feet. A number of pouches hung from her belt and her travels weapons, both her two-handed sword and her bow with quiver, were well worn from use though she maintained them as best she could. The blade in particular was held in high esteem by the Companion, created at the Skyforge as it was, and given to her as a gift upon joining the ranks of those august warriors.

Now, however, in the swamps bordering the north part of the Black Marsh Ember was pursuing her latest quest. While the life of a traveling warrior was often satisfying in its freedom it could be equally lacking in coin. She was more than capable of hunting for her food and finding clean water to drink but some of her gear would soon be tarnished beyond repair if she didn't get some gold with which to make repairs and replacements. Thus, hearing of a certain wizards interest, she'd decided to lend her sword to the cause. Though Ember knew little of the Dwemer or their disappearance, save that numerous ruins of their make dotted her homeland, she was confident that there was little they'd encounter inside which good, Nord steel would prove ineffectual against.

With her boots making a sucking noise in the muck, she traversed the final few hundred yards, the mage's tower looming in the distance in contrast to the rest of the swamp. Ember wrinkled her nose at the smell of it all, made sharper as it was by her lycanthropy, inhaling the aroma of tar and rotting vegetation. Still, coin was coin... perhaps next she'd go somewhere more... settled. Cyrodil, maybe, or even more exotically she could travel to Hammerfell. For now...

Drawing nearer, and seeing that the 'tower' looked more like a tree, she heard the slam of a door shortly before she arrived. Not one to be dissuaded, upon arriving at the entrance, Ember gave a loud pounding of a mailed fist so the owner would know that she was there.

The interior of the 'treehouse' was crude at best. The grassy floor seemed no less murky than the invasive weeds that littered the outside, the treeskin that served as the inner wall was unkempt and begrimed. Accompanied by insects from the outside that would crawl silently yet speedily through the tree holes across the high walls and ceiling. Had it not been for the naturally sharp night-eye of the Khajiit, J'o Rahe probably would not have noticed such critters, there was very little lighting within the entrance corridor, for the way within was far too narrow for any lighting that would not catch fire on the wooden frame. The lanky Telvanni gave a nervous chuckle as Rahe surveyed the entrance.

"Please forgive the gloom, Bosmer." The wizard apologized, casting a luminous ball of light which seemed to manifest from his fingertips. "This home, it is merely a hideout. Between you and me, if any of my fellow magisters actually found out about this whole expedition, I'd probably lose my house membership. Oh, what I am telling you this for? I barely know you, Tree-person." The wizard's attitude seemed to change erratically, it was as if the Dunmer was speaking to himself, making little attempt to check if the 'Wood Elf' was still following him. "That poster you carry was supposed to be displayed in a certain location, almost like an... invitation, if you will." He continued to explain; his voice almost drowned out by both the serene ambience of the magical light, as well as the scurrying of hissing insects across the ceiling. "Far from home aren't you quite, native of Valenwood."

"Aye." The Ohmes replied. "I am currently travelling the whole of Tamriel. This quest feels more like a detour, albeit a most terrible one I must confess." The Dunmer once again chuckled, this time in agreement. "A dangerous detour indeed." The abrasive sound of a loud, bitter voice seemed to muffle within the other side of the doorway to what would seem like the planning room. It shouted strange tirades about the taste of his alchohol. The Telvanni slumped, letting out an audiable groan of distain. "He's at it again..." But before Rahe could ask who the Dunmer was referring to, a loud knock was heard once more by the entrance. Both heads turned back the corridor end.

The furious wizard growled in annoyance, throwing away the kindly persona. "Move!" he shouted, barging the Khajiit out of his way; racing to the entrance and once again yanking the door with venomous anger. Once more, the sight of an outlander, this time a Nord surprised him greatly. The Dunmer bit his lips in frustration, these travellers seemed awfully coincidential to him. Where they spies? Or devious assassins of the Morag tong? Considering the terrible experiments he had executed in the past and recent time, the rogue magister had a right to be paranoid. A hard gulp could be heard, almost as if the wizard was attempting to swallow his anger and inner fears. Once more, he masked his tarnished expression with a false grin. "W-welcome." The simmering Dark elf murmured, almost akin to an unwelcome hiss. "A-are you here about the erm... expedition, by any chance." The eccentric magister asked. Rather to the point it would seem, but why else would anyone bother such a eerily quiet hermitage. He wondered, staring at the second outlander.

Ember meets the Dunmer's red eyes when the door is ripped open once more, the faint scent of his anger washing into her and stirring the beast inside, though such things weren't enough to provoke her bloodlust. Some truly were cursed by the blood of the wolf, transforming at the slightest provocation, but she refused to yield such weakness before it. She also allowed her wolf it's freedom... from time to time, where it could only do minimal damage. Instead she forced a nod in greeting and produced a poster which she offered to him.

"I heard that you were looking for blades." She greeted him. "I am Ember Kain, Companion and traveler from Skyrim. My steel is as sharp as any."

He reeked of falsehood and once more she felt that familiar distrust for the dark elves tickle her mind. Up to something... they were always up to something. But she was going to be in trouble without a source of income and she couldn't afford to be choosy about who paid her at the moment. Had she truly wished to avoid the Dunmer then Morrowind was a poor choice of lands to travel to, after all.

"You'll find none my equal. If you want your expedition to be successful you'll let me in and hire me on."

Bravado; the woman didn't lack confidence.

The Dunmer quietly sighed. More blades were always merrier he supposed, though he was still on the prowl for any potential spies as his head loomed over Ember and the foreground, squinting his eyes incase of even more unwelcome guests hiding out in the marshes. "Very well..." He groaned disrespectfully. "Come in. please excuse the gloom 'asthishomeismerelyahideout,' yuck." It was as though he had been rehearsing an exhausted quote as he beckoned the Nord inside; recasting the light spell whilst ready to close the entrance door. It was painfully obvious the magister had been irked, but what made it worse was that he did seem quite arrogant in his frustration.

J'o Rahe looked on from the other side of the door as he brushed off the dirt from the tree wall on his cuirass, confused and accompanied only by the noise of various misfits conversing and arguing on the other side. Most of the voices he could decipher sounded very elfin, albiet quite raspy. It became apparent to Rahe that the poster he found was not meant to leave Morrowind. The 'Bosmer' watched as the Telvanni welcomed the Nord inside, curious of how the woman also managed to come across such a poster in Skyrim.

It was hardly a warm welcome but Ember stepped inside as bidden; needs before wants. Her gaze took in the surroundings of the room as she did so, noting the smells and anything of interest, hearing the sounds of other voices from somewhere within the home. It smelled earthy... very earthy. Hardly surprising, you're in a tree... she thought to herself. The light spell makes it easy enough to see courtesy of her otherwise largely unfriendly mage host. She locks eyes for a moment with the other elf in the room, looking like one of the Bosmer for all her knowledge was concerned, and gave the other Mer a nod. A guard? Another one who answered the call? She didn't know but her host seemed a little rattled by her appearance. She assumed she'd find out soon enough and followed the Dunmer for now... unless he simply left her in this room.

J'o Rahe was somewhat stunned for a moment, nodding in return with what seemed like an awkward grimace. Although culturally an Imperial, Rahe still carried the quirks of his Khajiit fellows and was rather shy around strangers. The Telvanni came forward once more, squishing the 'Bosmer' out of the way and opening the door into the next room. Now all the tree muck was on his back rather than his front. He met Rahe's concealed eyes with the sharp stare of a patronizing parent. "By Mephala, you know you could have entered in by yourself." The Dunmer said, his erratic attitude had returned. "I hope you do not need me to educate you with some common sense, Wood Elf." He remarked snidely.

"I had merely thought it impolite, my host." Rahe argued. "It would have been very rude in any other circumstance." The Dunmer shrugged as the ambient light from his palm faded away, "Just head on in, would you?" The Telvanni harshly welcomed the two outlanders inside. The room itself was dimly lit, there were no more than a few strangely fluorescent lanterns that decorated the ceiling, bearing light on the artifacts that lay below on a table in the centre. Among these trinklets were a soul gem bearing a red aura, the broken head of an ancient staff, the helmet of a Golden Saint, an Orc's skull, and finally the dreaded mace of Molag Bal. This one artifact, as dangerous and terrible as it was, was placed at the very bottom of the line of artifacts, almost as though it was regarded as the least important.

Six figures sat around the table, with a few empty seats that were obviously meant for the others that were invited. Of the six, four of them were visibly of Dunmeri origin. Although one of them was completely masked by the armour of a Tribunal High Ordinator, it was safe to assume this person was indeed a Dark Elf also. The fifth was an Altmeri priest, who sat tall, yet humble upon his seat. He wore the ragged blue robes of a religious mer, accompanied by a necklace of Stendarr that seemed to hang rather crudely upon his neck. Last (and perhaps least as well), was a belligerent Breton drunkard that seemed to hunch on his seat like a sloth; his arms spread out on the table as though the Breton was reaching out for some balance. The useless man was covered head to toe in treemuck and it was evident that he had some previous trouble trying to get inside the magister's home. "Thesh mashtay!" The Drunkard yelled. "Thesh mashtay shtill tasytsh like pish! Need shum more drink to take the bad taytsh away." The others sighed and groaned at the Breton's tirades.

The Telvanni scowled as he surveyed his ragtag group of adventurers. 'Well... They're better than nothing.' he thought. "Well, I can hopefully assume that all the guests have arrived." The magister announced at the sudden gawking of the men sat around the table. "Now, if we could perhaps all introduce ourselves, I am sure it would enhance our chemistry in this otherwise dangerous quest. Let us start with the outlanders, I am quite curious to hear what exciting stories they bring to this dull and dreary land." He declared, almost sarcastically.

J'o Rahe looked down toward his peers as they stared at him from the cyan table. There was a short moment before the 'Bosmer' made his introduction. "My... My name is Arithir." Rahe stuttered. "I was born in Valenwood, but I am in no way culturally a Bosmer. My parents fled to Cyrodiil during the Oblivion Crisis and I have resided in Skingrad for most of my life, though I have explored much of western Tamriel for over two hundred years. I have spoken to, battled, and come across various mystical guardians of nature, undead, and of course, Daedra." The term Daedra made him cringe, for the term constantly reminded Rahe of his so-called master: The Daedric prince of Order: Jyggalag. "My experience has made me confident in my ability as a crusader against the unholy. I hope my talents may prove useful during this expedition into Oblivion." He finished rather humbly.

"Very good, I'm sure you'll fit right in." The Telvanni nodded, as the others looked on. It was then that the magister turned his head to Ember, the Nord. She seemed to stick out from the group, being from the race of men rather than Mer. Of course there was the Breton, but he was more a liability, The magister regarded him as being no more than a meat shield. "What about you, young Nord?" The wizard inquired, as all heads including 'Arithir's' turned to gaze at the Woman. "Care to introduce yourself to the rest of the party?" The magister rested himself upon a tall stool; his long hands caressing his bleached chin as he waited.

It had been a harsh trip to say the least for the Altmer woman. Her tall six foot two inch skinny frame nicely concealed in her prized Nightingale armor stretched, standing just outside the door to the tower that reminded her so much of Solsthiem, and the hassle she endured there. It seemed as if new comers had arrived, no doubt also her inquiring over the wanted posters as the door before her had recently shut, hearing it as she slowly approached from the south. Her hand reached out, resisting the urge to just break in by knocking loudly in three strong thumps.

Lilly's hand pulled back, in wait of someone to answer the door, moving to rest on her blade. It would come as no surprise that a Nightingale would have the blade and bow to complete her set, but the large dagger strapped horizontally across the back of her hips would cause pause if seen, the Blade of Woe. Her cloak did well to hide it, but not always.

((Hope this is okay, was going to start in the back room but I saw you post the meeting beginning.))

Ember followed the Bosmer and their rather rude host into the next room when beckoned though her face wasn't the most pleased when she saw who they were. More Dunmer, it seemed, including one in a rather imposing set of armor. The Altmer wore an amulet of Stendarr, which was commendable, as she knew that order had suffered heavy losses of late in her native land. Still, judging by the ragged state of his robes, the elf had seen lean times as well. She couldn't argue the usefulness of one skilled in the healing arts, however, and if he were a battle priest of sorts then he could make her even more formidable. She'd take what boons she could find even if they did involve magic. The Breton... the reek of alcohol was strong indeed and nauseating in close quarters to her sensitive nose. Mentally, her ears flattened some at the sight of him, but being the only other human she was glad to present a better image of her race than he was doing. Hopefully the man's sole talent wasn't the ability to imbibe alcohol without passing out.

Though the room was dimly lit, she had little trouble seeing in it, including the items on the table. It was that mace which stuck out the most to her, and though she didn't know precisely what it was, there was a certain fel look to the weapon. The other items are noted, Ember being curious what they were there for, but presuming their host would explain all momentarily. She took her seat, listening as the Bosmer introduced himself as Arithir. A crusader against the unholy, was he? She'd have to watch that one... few considered the Beast Blood to be the blessing that it was. Few understood. Yet he seemed one of the more functional of those assembled so far. When her turn comes she speaks confidently and assertively.

"I am Ember Kain of the Companions, born of Skyrim, but traveling to see the world. It was shortly after entering into Morrowind that I heard of this quest and I believe I will find glory pursuing it. Born a commoner, I have been a Shield-Sister for several years now, and my skill will speak for itself when battle comes upon us. I have fought all manners of men, beasts, and undead that dwell in my homeland and remain unbowed by the world. My talents with magic are limited but you'll find few blades to be my equal."

That about summed it up, she thought, though any further conversation was interrupted by another knock from the entryway.

(No worries. Welcome aboard )

As yet another sharp thud from the corridor end was heard, all eyes turned back to the darkened tunnel which lead back to the entrance. The frustrated Telvanni was now biting his lip to crudely relieve himself of his stress. He went silent for a moment, then shook his head with a pout. "You know what?" The irritable magister frowned, throwing himself off of the tall stool. "Somebody else can get that. I am sick of getting my robes stained with that awful treemuck. It cost me five hundred drakes just get the silk material delivered! I'm not dirtying myself any further through that awful corridor. Whoever is out there is on their own." It was actually kind of ironic that the Dunmeri mage would rudely complain to his lessers (Or at least what he thought of them) about the troubles of his own home. Out of all the figures present, it was the Telvanni who was the least touched by the swampy muck everpresent within the entrance corridor.

'Arithir' gazed at the table, watching as the six that sat there turned their heads and grumbled to themselves. Rahe would have answered the door, but the 'Bosmer' felt himself instinctively stuck in place, unable to move. It was almost as if answering the door was exactly what the Dunmer wanted Rahe to do. He'd had enough of being scolded like... well, a Khajiit; it wasn't his place to answer the door anyway. If the mage didn't need anymore followers, that was up to him. A moment had passed before the Priest of Stendarr stood from his chair. "I shall answer." The Altmer announced. "The swamps are dangerous, full of outlaws and illegal slavers. We cannot leave a traveller to the mercy of this twisted place." The priest raced down the corridor, with the Telvanni giving an apathetic shrug of his shoulders as he watched on.

The Door had finally been answered. The Altmeri priest looked on in suspicion at the concealed tall figure. It was his duty as a servant of Stendarr however, to ignore such dubious aspects. "Blessings of Stendarr upon you traveller." The High Elf began. "I assume you are here about the expedition also? If so, you are welcome to follow me into the planning room. Please be careful walking through the door as it does slam rather easily, and make sure not to touch the treewall. The corridor is covered with earth and muck, and our host has no love for those who'd complain unfortunately." He held the door open for the nightingale almost like a kindly gentlemen. In all truth however, the Altmer was merely doing his part for the God of Mercy.

Her patience was tried as the Altmer woman stood outside the door, turning to face the world in front of the door. As the sound of creaking wood and metal came from behind her, Lilly slowly turned her form to see who just had answered. Her face was discretely hidden behind her mask, eyes barely visible due to their glowing nature beneath her hood, though if it was visible a look of shock would be upon it at the unexpected nature of another High Elf in the vicinity. Hearing the vigilant greet her and explain about the host, she understood she was most likely more than late to this 'party.'

"Blessings, Vigilant." Her soft elegant voice would begin, "Thank you." She stepped past him with a light nod as she thanked him. Waiting for him to close the door and show her to this planning room. For a mission such as this Lilly had imagined many brave souls would show up, though the diversity of them was more than a little surprising as her unheard footsteps into the room presented the view. A Nord woman, an unknown race hidden by armor, the High Elf Vigilant, Dunmer to no surprise and a drunkard Breton surrounded the wizards table leaving Lilly with little choice but to take the empty seat next to the Vigilant. With a nod and light torso bow toward the Telvanni wizard, she silently moved across the room and to the bare seat, sitting down while her eyes scanned the people near her more closely.

Ember holds her peace as their host complains, finding the Dunmer mage both confusing and irritating. If he was going to get so irritated about people coming and dirtying his robes then why did he invite them here of all places? Why did he invite people at all? It struck her that perhaps their host wasn't entirely in his right mind and idly she reflected on the possibility that it could be linked to any of the artifacts on the table. Or perhaps he was merely obsessive... either way, it was enough to put her more on edge than she'd otherwise be surrounded by Mer. Her eyes track the Vigilant's progress as he leaves, hearing the sounds of voices from the adjoining room as he greeted the newcomer, and then tracking their movement as both came back into the room.

The newcomer was female, that much was obvious, but her armor covered much of her features much like the Tribunal High Ordinator's did. Ember's gaze was evaluating, taking the woman's measure, for she obviously seemed well equipped. Quite an eclectic group that was being gathered.

"Perhaps our host would be gracious enough to tell us the purpose of this meeting and his need for companions?" Ember looked to the Dunmer mage. "The advertisement was an enticement but unless I missed out on an earlier part of the conversation I'm unsure where exactly you plan for us to go or do."

The Telvanni wizard squinted his eyes sharply toward the Nord woman with the look of sudden disgust and offence, as though he had been somehow wronged. "W-well..." The Dunmer muttered "I did explain to the Bosmer there that these posters were more akin to invitations. I placed them in the most specific of areas in Morrowind where talent was certain. I do not know how a Nord, let alone an Altmer or Bosmer came across it." The magister grimaced; his body postured haughtily. "I AM going to explain to you all my plan for this expedition, but I would have at first thought it better that we'd all... get to know eachother first. That way we can wish eachother a peaceful rest for when one of us dies in Oblivion." It was a sickening and frankly poor attempt at humour, even to the Telvanni himself, chuckling awkwardly. But for the most part, he just wanted the Human off of his case.

"Such things are trivial and unnecessary" One of the Dunmer patrons stood up from his seat; his deep voice was unnaturally raspy, as though filled with the very ash of Red Mountain. It was the High Ordinator, a former protector of Mournhold and crusader of Almalexia. "Not everyone here is proud of their past..." He explained. "...Like myself, I think they would feel more at ease not to explain their sins to a rather judging host."

"I concur with that." Another Dark Elf raised his grey hand in respect. This Dunmer wore an Argonian styled scale armour, which seemed to glint and shine as the lanterns hung. What was interesting however is that this Dunmer wore on his back the symbol of the once great house Hlaalu, which was stripped of it's rank after Red Year due to it's Imperial ties. "Please cut to the chase my host, most of us are only here for the rather large bounty anyway." His words were a slight bit condescending, but it seemed as though he was speaking for everyone. For the other Mer (Including the priest and 'Arithir') nodded their heads one after the other, save the masked newcomer whose opinion was not yet known. The drunken Breton also offered his advice, albiet in what seemed to have may as well been in a different language, flapping his gums and whining incomprehensibly. The seated Mer stared at the wastrel for a few moments before he finally finished, laying his slurring face flat onto the table, snoring loudly. Sanguine would be snickering.

"Hmph! Very well." The Telvanni snorted, almost as though he had been treated unjustly by his followers. "If you all really need to know at this very moment, I'll tell you." He began. "You see, the payout is great because I need followers to aid me on this most perilous quest. This isn't just some nonchalant walk into Oblivion, I obviously don't some swords for a trip into let's say... Quagmire, or the Madhouse for instance! I am quite capable enough to wander such planes alone." It was quite obvious what exposing himself to the homes of Vaermina and Sheogorath were doing to his aged, fragile mind. "No! Regardless of how bitter I have acted toward our outlander newcomers, I must have swords for this most special rescue mission."

"I see, magister." The third Dunmer spoke; lacking the raspy voice of his kinsmen, and wearing a very strange and exotic armour, almost like those of the outcast order: the Blades. "But just what kind of person do you intend to rescue?" The Elf was intrigued. So was Rahe, who stayed silent and kept himself in place. He didn't want to get on anyone's bad side.

"Ah, but this is no mere person I wish to search for." The Telvanni smiled, clenching his left hand enthusiastically. He was hoping to grimly surprise his group. "I wish to search for the very God who could of prevented the Red Year, and bring him to trial before the Reclamations for his desertion..." His voice became stark and loud for a moment "I seek the Warrior-Poet, Vivec." A sudden moment of cold silence crept around the room at this revelation, some of the patrons across the table felt dread, but others were suddenly wrathful, scowling at the mad Telvanni with disbelief. Among these included Rahe, who thought the wizard as crazy as the realms he had confessed to have ventured within.

(Think it's your post, Lilly-Anna )

((Sorry! Wasn't sure what to post quite yet but I'll give it a go.))

As discussions were held in front of her she became more and more interested in this group, more exactly their skills and if they would be helpful or not in any quest. She too had found the posters strewn over Morrowind, his placement of them not as tactful as he claims them to have been, seeing at least 2 in each major town she passed through. 'Oblivion?' the Altmer pondered to her self, having on a few occasions visited different princes planes, but now her question was which one; glad the Nord woman had asked when the men around the room had yet not.

As the Dark Elves chimed in she had quite the opposite feeling, having no trouble explaining her past if need be after coming to peace with all of it. Their shyness or their reluctance to share had instantly placed them on the list in Lilly's mind reserved for "Do Not Trust," knowing full well in times of extreme danger no matter how little you know your companions you MUST be able to trust them; though the bounty alone would make any warrior forget that bit.

Her face behind her cowl had remained neutral, not that any one could see, but the Wizards declaration of their quest had her thinking he was both brilliant and crazy, one eyebrow lifting in slight disbelief. "You plan to capture Vivec? What in Tamriel hit you on the head the morning you thought of this?" Lilly's voice chimed out, her pitch slightly higher being a female but her tone staying low adding to the mystery of her. She wasn't opposed to the idea one bit, surprisingly, but it was a fools errand no matter how one looked at it.

"You wish to find a god?" Ember echoes Lilly-Anna's words with an expression of surprise. "That... will be no easy feat."

But it was the kind of thing a glorious story, or an ignoble death, were made of. Vivec... she didn't know much about him beyond the lore she'd learned as a girl. He'd manifested on Tamriel some time ago and she'd thought he'd more or less done away with his worship. That was about all she could recall firsthand save some rumors that he'd been taken by Daedra during the Oblivion Crisis.

"But not impossible."

She leaned back in her chair, a more relaxed posture which didn't convey the animal within, as she breathed in the scents of those surrounding her and with it some trace inkling of their mood. How would the Dunmer react? The other Mer? She didn't have nearly such a personal stake in this than they did.

"I thought Saint Vivec was rather well regarded by the Dunmer, however, I've not been in Morrowind long. Do you have any traces of his whereabouts? I presume so if you've taken the time to gather us all together."

The Telvanni responded to the both of them with a snide smirk. The other Dunmer did hold their piece and listen carefully, but were disheartened by the magister's rather mad motivation "I must correct, it was not what fell on my head one morning when I thought of this plan, but rather what slammed into Vvardenfell." He explained. "Ever since the Red Year occurred, it has been my driving ambition to rescue the Warrior-Poet, but also grant my Dunmer brothers an inquiry on why Vivec was absent during his people's greatest time of need. I have no doubt that the people of Morrowind... and Solthsteim still revere his exploits, but as of late, let us just say that the Tribunal's once deified reputation has been tarnished quite a bit in the fourth era."

Arithir came forward for a moment, interrupting the Dark Elf's speech. He seemed rather stout despite being the smallest of the group. "There are sixteen Daedra princes magister. Seventeen if you were to count the newly discovered Jyggallag." The Bosmer barked. "Their realms are truly boundless, so how can you be certain of which realm Vivec is currently residing? F-for all we know, this could all just be some random chase." The masked Khajiit was inquisitive, almost forgetting the bounty of gold, but who wouldn't be curious considering the circumstances?

"Well, I am not certain of where Vivec is being held." The Telvanni replied; his voice trembling as he confessed his uncertainty. "However, I have been given over a century to explore and theorise the Former-God's whereabouts." He began to explain himself. "At first I turned to the Daedra princes who had little to do with the Tribunal. Sanguine, Hermaeus Mora, Peryite, Clavicus Vile, Nocturnal and so on. But there was very little that I have found and read that accounts any sort of meetings or activity with these 'neutral' Daedra, so I disregarded them rather quickly. I then looked to the 'Good' Daedra. Boethia, Mephala and Azura, or the Reclamations as my people call them." As the Dunmer spoke, he crept closer to the front end of the table, directly in front of the display which lay in the centre. All eyes seemed to turn back toward the artifacts. "But I came to the quick conclusion that if Vivec knew of the plight his people faced, he would not stand idly by and watch his people suffer... Unless of course, he was being held against his own will."

The Telvanni circled the table, caressing the rather perculiar artifacts as he strolled by his patrons, much to their distaste, and invasion of personal space no less. "So then I found my answer within the House of Troubles, the Bad Daedra." His words escaped his mouth like a loud windy whisper in the humid air. "Malacath, Molag Bal, Mehrunes Dagon... Sheogorath. The four Daedric princes who historically refused to the bow down to the power of the Tribunal. I believe in my heart that one of these Daedra lords is responsible for Vivec's disappearance. In this belief, I have captured four artifacts that will be used to transport us to their separate realms."

"The helmet of a Golden Saint" He lifted the seemingly ornate and beautiful headpiece above the table, it shone extravagantly in the lantern light. "Loyal servants and retainers of Sheogorath. I found this while exploring a Daedric shrine to the Madgod in ruined Mournhold. It shall take us to the Isles of the Madhouse" He placed the winged helm carefully onto the table, before pointing to what looked like a glowing, spherical soul gem. "A sigil stone!" The Telvanni cried out. "During the Oblivion Crisis, these strange keys acted as anchors to Dagon's Deadlands. I'm sure if you've been to Cyrodiil, or Alinor in fact, you'll have seen a few ruined gates to this realm scattered throughout the land. I found this particular stone near the rebuilt city of Kvatch." The Dunmer was growing impatient with his own speech, shouting more wearily.

"The skull of an Orc chieftain, kin of Malacath." His long finger pointed toward the bleached, monstrous skull. "Using the skull of this venerated ancestor, we will surely be granted passage into the realm of the Ostracized." Telvanni finally made his way down toward the mace, gripping the weapon tightly and swinging the terrible object toward the roof for all in the room to see. "The Mace of Molag Bal." He warned. "What I had done to earn this atrocious weapon... It would not be best to give a full account, let's leave it at that..." The Dunmer held the mace by his chest, it seemed to rub on his lavish purple robes. "This weapon will take us directly into Coldharbour, the realm I least look forward to treading within."

The mages' speech held little info that the Altmer woman did not know, guessing it might most likely be the same for all around. The artifacts held her attention though, having collected a few, not many, but a few in her days, most of them on her person at this very moment. It was not going to be as fun as Lilly first thought having seen the help needed/ wanted posters, but seeing as she had nothing better to do she was starting to feel "Gung ho" about setting off.

At the brief mention of the Telvanni mans struggle to obtain the mace intrigued her, getting the sense that what occurred was like her work with the Dark Hand (/Dark Brotherhood) and feeling more up her alley than a rescue party. "Well..." she softly spoke, glancing about the table briefly before continuing, "So when do we leave?" Though they could not see it, Lilly could tell she was smiling a bit crookedly at the excitement building in her. "I'm guessing that since you're explaining all of this to us without any more detail, this is all you have? Not even attempting to talk to the gods on your own despite easily having the way. Forgive me if that seems foolhardy but it seems like the next logical step for you, not banding all of us together for a man hunt... I mean rescue." She knew her words might sound a bit insulting, but to her that was the next logical step... unless the wizard was afraid of something her was not yet letting onto. Besides, in order to get the mace, Lilly was almost 100% certain he spoke with the Molag Bal himself.

"What also concerns me is our supplies for such a journey... most of it would be heavy and for as many of us as there are would require horses or possibly a cart... and I recall seeing no horses, or an equivalent, outside when I walked up."

((Ignore last bit if already discussed, I didn't see mention of supplies in the posts anywhere though I could have missed it.))

(So sorry, been busy, will get a post up a little later this morning!)

"Supplies will be key though I assume you've made allowances?"

The dark armored woman was right, without a train if wagons and other materials a large expedition like thus would never get off the ground. They'd need water, food, tools to repair equipment, arrows... this was no simple quest. If they would be entering the domain of more than one Daedric Prince they'd best be extra cautious. A small part of her was glad that they wouldn't be traveling to the realm of Hircine; she was afraid what influence that place might have on her with the beast blood coursing through her veins. And yet also strangely curious as well.

"There has to be a way to narrow our search down as well. Randomly trapsing into Daedric Realms will get us killed ingloriously and in short order." She really disliked having to resort to wizardly tricks but needs were as needs must. "What about summoned creatures? Have any of them been able to shed more light? Failing that... who suffered the most for Vivec's decision and thus would be most interested in revenge?"

(Sorry, shorter post. On mobile but didn't want to hold the thread up)