Ath was quiet for a good bit as he was deep in thought on different things. "He is very smart, after all those old ruins are known quite well for the traps that most wouldn't be able to navigate." After all, even the most experienced adventurer, thief, assassin and warrior got bit by traps now and then. "We should make our way there now then." With that Ath turned and started off to where the ruins were.
Ath made his way through the city as he glanced back. "You should be happy, least we have a lead and are not stumbling around blind, this guy is crazy good at what he does. After all, would you suspect the insane, muttering ragged fool to be a thief?" he asked. Most would shy away or just shun just such a fellow, which only helped the man. "But hopefully he will be there."
After a good bit of traveling he would arrive at a dock that seemed to hold no boat. That would make Ath frown. "hmm, maybe it sank?" he would throw out optimistically.
Ath made his way through the city as he glanced back. "You should be happy, least we have a lead and are not stumbling around blind, this guy is crazy good at what he does. After all, would you suspect the insane, muttering ragged fool to be a thief?" he asked. Most would shy away or just shun just such a fellow, which only helped the man. "But hopefully he will be there."
After a good bit of traveling he would arrive at a dock that seemed to hold no boat. That would make Ath frown. "hmm, maybe it sank?" he would throw out optimistically.
(OOC: Sorry about the late post! Final exams and Skyrim, 'nuff said, since I have no other way to excuse myself for taking so long. 
)
Dust walked quietly between the man, beginning to feel a twinge of annoyance with the Bosmer's jovial attitude. Doesn't he realize Astarill could die if this goes wrong? That gave her a little pang of guilt - she shuddered before shrugging it away. Something else caught her attention as they at last reached the docks - there appeared to be no way for them to cross.
"Hmm, maybe..." Dust bit her lip at the Bosmer's suggestion. "Or maybe someone took it ahead of us. In either case..." She suddenly forgot about the gravity of the situation as she knelt, shuffling through her bag and giving a wide grin. "Dust's magic bag of tricks! Er, potions. Here." She pulled out three small vials, keeping one for herself and offering the others to the gentlemen. "Water-walking. Should last long enough to get us where we need to go, but we shouldn't take chances either. Let's make it a quick trip."
)Dust walked quietly between the man, beginning to feel a twinge of annoyance with the Bosmer's jovial attitude. Doesn't he realize Astarill could die if this goes wrong? That gave her a little pang of guilt - she shuddered before shrugging it away. Something else caught her attention as they at last reached the docks - there appeared to be no way for them to cross.
"Hmm, maybe..." Dust bit her lip at the Bosmer's suggestion. "Or maybe someone took it ahead of us. In either case..." She suddenly forgot about the gravity of the situation as she knelt, shuffling through her bag and giving a wide grin. "Dust's magic bag of tricks! Er, potions. Here." She pulled out three small vials, keeping one for herself and offering the others to the gentlemen. "Water-walking. Should last long enough to get us where we need to go, but we shouldn't take chances either. Let's make it a quick trip."
Astarill tore his eyes off the rooftops briefly to glance at the Bosmer, when the thief told him he should be happy. He scoffed.
“I don’t know. I don’t know him. I didn’t know he is a ‘muttering, ragged fool.’ And I don’t know why you think that fact should reassure me,” he grumbled in reply, his tone growing more sarcastic when he continued, “But thank you for sharing.”
He neglected to add that it seemed to him he should feel insulted, having been mistaken for a gibbering maniac, and a ragged one at that. He pushed that thought away and forced himself to remain alert. After all, he had been insulted with worse things throughout his life. Surely. He couldn’t immediately think of an example, but surely.
When the group of three reached the north-east side of the island, Astarill looked ahead to the ruins on the other side of the water. Moonlight reflected on the white stones, and a shimmer of bright blue light originating from one of those Ayleid wells could be spotted, even at this distance. Vilverin, he seemed to recall the place was called. He had never gone there. Ruins situated this close to civilization had long since been robbed clean of anything that might have been of scholarly interest, unless you were interested in two eras’ worth of archaeological remains from bandits.
He got torn out of his thoughts when Dust offered him one of the potions. “Thank you,” he muttered, and took the vial from her. Precisely at that moment, there was a soft twang! of a released crossbow string, followed by a quiet sigh on the wind, and a dull thud! as a bolt lodged itself firmly into the soil beside Astarill’s feet.
The Altmer stared at the bolt for a second, then hissed the words of a Detect Life spell while he turned around. He blinked and when he opened his eyes again, they seemed to glow with a vague purple light as they darted quickly over the area in between the shore and the Imperial Prison. He spotted a life sign up in a tree, and by the looks of its movements, it was reloading its weapon.
Astarill cursed under his breath, and nodded in the direction of the tree in question. “Up there.”
-
A dozen yards away, up in the tree, an auburn-haired Breton man dressed in the armor of the Dark Brotherhood, muttered curses of his own, fumbling with his crossbow. He had meant to shoot his target in the leg, to immobilize it. Instead, he had alerted it and its companions to his presence. A mistake that would have to be corrected, before they got away. Or worse; before they got him.
“I don’t know. I don’t know him. I didn’t know he is a ‘muttering, ragged fool.’ And I don’t know why you think that fact should reassure me,” he grumbled in reply, his tone growing more sarcastic when he continued, “But thank you for sharing.”
He neglected to add that it seemed to him he should feel insulted, having been mistaken for a gibbering maniac, and a ragged one at that. He pushed that thought away and forced himself to remain alert. After all, he had been insulted with worse things throughout his life. Surely. He couldn’t immediately think of an example, but surely.
When the group of three reached the north-east side of the island, Astarill looked ahead to the ruins on the other side of the water. Moonlight reflected on the white stones, and a shimmer of bright blue light originating from one of those Ayleid wells could be spotted, even at this distance. Vilverin, he seemed to recall the place was called. He had never gone there. Ruins situated this close to civilization had long since been robbed clean of anything that might have been of scholarly interest, unless you were interested in two eras’ worth of archaeological remains from bandits.
He got torn out of his thoughts when Dust offered him one of the potions. “Thank you,” he muttered, and took the vial from her. Precisely at that moment, there was a soft twang! of a released crossbow string, followed by a quiet sigh on the wind, and a dull thud! as a bolt lodged itself firmly into the soil beside Astarill’s feet.
The Altmer stared at the bolt for a second, then hissed the words of a Detect Life spell while he turned around. He blinked and when he opened his eyes again, they seemed to glow with a vague purple light as they darted quickly over the area in between the shore and the Imperial Prison. He spotted a life sign up in a tree, and by the looks of its movements, it was reloading its weapon.
Astarill cursed under his breath, and nodded in the direction of the tree in question. “Up there.”
-
A dozen yards away, up in the tree, an auburn-haired Breton man dressed in the armor of the Dark Brotherhood, muttered curses of his own, fumbling with his crossbow. He had meant to shoot his target in the leg, to immobilize it. Instead, he had alerted it and its companions to his presence. A mistake that would have to be corrected, before they got away. Or worse; before they got him.
The ruins were silent as a grave, except for the sounds of slow, calculated footsteps walking down stone stairs. Dakari had been taught that Vilverin was once an Ayleid city, but to her, it looked more like a necropolis: a ghostly fog hanged in the air, thick and heavy like a shroud, and an icy coldness slowly insinuated itself into Dak’s fingers. She was glad the few traps she met were already disarmed, as it meant that someone else had been here before her – though it could had been days or weeks ago. And, well, she had never been good at disarming those things anyway.
The stairs leaded into a vast room. Pedestals were standing around, their precious welkynd stones stolen a long time ago, and from where she stood, Dakari could see another stairs, as well as some kind of edge. Dak looked carefully around for an indication of a recent presence. Some former occupants had once laid the table, but it was now covered with dust. However, someone had recently started a fire. So recently, actually, that the embers were still glowing in the fireplace.
Taking her bow, Dakari prepared an arrow. The hunt was starting over.
The stairs leaded into a vast room. Pedestals were standing around, their precious welkynd stones stolen a long time ago, and from where she stood, Dakari could see another stairs, as well as some kind of edge. Dak looked carefully around for an indication of a recent presence. Some former occupants had once laid the table, but it was now covered with dust. However, someone had recently started a fire. So recently, actually, that the embers were still glowing in the fireplace.
Taking her bow, Dakari prepared an arrow. The hunt was starting over.
Glanced to Astarill. "Oh your quite welcome." He even gave a small nod of his head. He would glance to Dust and smile at her suggestion of water walking. It was a good idea all in all or so he thought. He was about to head for the water when the arrow came out of nowhere. The elf quickly turned pulling his bow down and nooked an arrow pulling it back.
Ath would scan and just barely make out the outline of a person in one of the trees. Without waiting he let the arrow loose aiming roughly where he thought the shoulder would be on the attacker. Without even waiting to see if the arrow hit he would nook and fire two more in rapid succession to disable or outright kill depending on if the attacker moved.
Ath would scan and just barely make out the outline of a person in one of the trees. Without waiting he let the arrow loose aiming roughly where he thought the shoulder would be on the attacker. Without even waiting to see if the arrow hit he would nook and fire two more in rapid succession to disable or outright kill depending on if the attacker moved.
Dust frowned as, just as they were about to turn to the water, there was a soft sound beside them, something whizzing by. A bolt - she blinked, glancing at Astarill who had already cast detect life and who's violet gaze already glowed eerily as he cast it up to the trees.
Dark Brotherhood, no doubt. But which one was it? She chewed her lip. It could be any - someone she didn't know, or...
Ath'vesu released arrows in quick succession, and Dust's eyes grew wide with alarm. "Don't kill - " She managed to snap her mouth shut before finishing, embarrassed. They were trying to kill Astarill, why shouldn't they die? But the thought that it might be Teinaava, or Antoinetta up there made her shudder. She felt her cheeks grow hot and fell silent.
Dark Brotherhood, no doubt. But which one was it? She chewed her lip. It could be any - someone she didn't know, or...
Ath'vesu released arrows in quick succession, and Dust's eyes grew wide with alarm. "Don't kill - " She managed to snap her mouth shut before finishing, embarrassed. They were trying to kill Astarill, why shouldn't they die? But the thought that it might be Teinaava, or Antoinetta up there made her shudder. She felt her cheeks grow hot and fell silent.
The assassin uttered a gasp and hissed another curse, taking the first of the Bosmer’s arrows in the left shoulder. He gave up on reloading his crossbow, and tossed the bolt away to free his hand. He crouched on the thick branch and made ready to jump. At that moment, the second of Ath’s arrows lodged itself in the tree stem, and the third in the assassin’s right thigh. The man let out a howl and crashed to the ground, unable to catch his balance. He rolled to lessen the damage that his fall’s momentum could have caused, although the shafts of the arrows broke, further aggravating his wounds. Grinding his teeth against the pain in his shoulder and leg, he made a brave attempt to get up on his feet again, drawing his dagger.
Astarill needed to restrain himself from legging over and tearing the Bosmer’s bow out of his hands. “Disable, don’t kill,” he barked, instead. The speed at which the Bosmer had fired three arrows in a row was lethal indeed, and he needed the assassin alive. Someone needed to return to the Dark Brotherhood with proof that this particular Altmer was not the gibbering maniac everyone was after, and that proof first needed to be gathered.
He drew his sword and approached the assassin slowly, summarizing his situation for him; “You’re in no state to fight us, and you can’t outrun us with that leg. You’re going to come with us. You won’t be harmed.”
The Breton glared at the Altmer, then at the two people by the shore. His gaze rested on Dust briefly, then turned furious as it came to rest on the one who had incapacitated him so efficiently. “Won’t I?” he spat, “And why not?”
“I’m not the one you’re after, and I’m going to prove that to you,” Astarill said. While he had no doubt Dust would accept his plan of action, he wasn’t so sure of Ath. The Wood Elf’s plans for his ‘friend’ likely conflicted with his own. Yet, he continued, “And I need you to bring that proof to your superiors.”
The assassin did not tear his seething glare off Ath’Vesu. “And what if I refuse to cooperate?”
“Others will come, and they might be more reasonable. So…” Astarill paused, and gestured towards the shoreline as if to invite the assassin to precede him. “We’re going that way, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”
The Breton assassin took his eyes off the Bosmer, sheathed his dagger, and complied, perhaps seeing the logic of the proposal, perhaps merely biding his time. He stumbled towards the shore, visibly hampered by Ath’s two arrows.
(((OOC: By the way, everyone is free to make the assassin do or say whatever they want to serve their own purposes! Also, long post is long. As always, if there's something wrong with it, let me know and I'll edit.)))
Astarill needed to restrain himself from legging over and tearing the Bosmer’s bow out of his hands. “Disable, don’t kill,” he barked, instead. The speed at which the Bosmer had fired three arrows in a row was lethal indeed, and he needed the assassin alive. Someone needed to return to the Dark Brotherhood with proof that this particular Altmer was not the gibbering maniac everyone was after, and that proof first needed to be gathered.
He drew his sword and approached the assassin slowly, summarizing his situation for him; “You’re in no state to fight us, and you can’t outrun us with that leg. You’re going to come with us. You won’t be harmed.”
The Breton glared at the Altmer, then at the two people by the shore. His gaze rested on Dust briefly, then turned furious as it came to rest on the one who had incapacitated him so efficiently. “Won’t I?” he spat, “And why not?”
“I’m not the one you’re after, and I’m going to prove that to you,” Astarill said. While he had no doubt Dust would accept his plan of action, he wasn’t so sure of Ath. The Wood Elf’s plans for his ‘friend’ likely conflicted with his own. Yet, he continued, “And I need you to bring that proof to your superiors.”
The assassin did not tear his seething glare off Ath’Vesu. “And what if I refuse to cooperate?”
“Others will come, and they might be more reasonable. So…” Astarill paused, and gestured towards the shoreline as if to invite the assassin to precede him. “We’re going that way, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”
The Breton assassin took his eyes off the Bosmer, sheathed his dagger, and complied, perhaps seeing the logic of the proposal, perhaps merely biding his time. He stumbled towards the shore, visibly hampered by Ath’s two arrows.
(((OOC: By the way, everyone is free to make the assassin do or say whatever they want to serve their own purposes! Also, long post is long. As always, if there's something wrong with it, let me know and I'll edit.)))
After a short exploration, Dakari had discovered two more stairs. One leaded to a small room, which contained nothing interesting except of a skeleton lying on a bed and a desk covered with crumpled papers and a worn copy of the Guide to the Imperial City, from which Dak deduced the skeleton surely had been a misguided tourist. There were no tracks of her thief though, and she walked back into the gigantic main room.
A sudden move behind a pedestal made her take aim and shoot. The arrow hit the ground near the base of the pedestal, provoking a high-pitched scream.
“Please, please, don’t kill me!” begged a shaking voice. “I’m too stringy, I would be an awful meal, please don’t eat me either!”
“…you should show yourself,” sighed Dak while nooking a new arrow, “next time I will not miss you.”
“…oh, oh, you’re not a monster, right?! Wait, unless you’re a ventriloquist monster possessing a humanoid body! Ahah! Nice trick, but I’m not swallowing your lies! Stay away from me, ventriloquist monster!”
Dak blinked. Then sighed and let her arrow fly. It hit the ground at the same place than before, provoking a new scream. “…I am not kidding,” she concluded.
After a fleeting moment of hesitation, someone crawled away from the pedestal and slowly got up. It was an Altmer man with long, blond hair partially covered with a dirty scarf. He was wearing torn clothes and he was holding a fork tightly. He eventually looked at Dak with a scared expression on his face and she finally understood why the Bosmer had mistaken the Altmer at the bar with this one. Except of the color of the eyes and the shape of the corners of the mouths, they almost looked identical.
“…so I eventually found you.”
Lorundil Gladro blinked. And ran away yelling, to Dak’s dismay. He took the stairs that leaded deeper underground into the ruins. With a sigh, Dakari started running as well.
A sudden move behind a pedestal made her take aim and shoot. The arrow hit the ground near the base of the pedestal, provoking a high-pitched scream.
“Please, please, don’t kill me!” begged a shaking voice. “I’m too stringy, I would be an awful meal, please don’t eat me either!”
“…you should show yourself,” sighed Dak while nooking a new arrow, “next time I will not miss you.”
“…oh, oh, you’re not a monster, right?! Wait, unless you’re a ventriloquist monster possessing a humanoid body! Ahah! Nice trick, but I’m not swallowing your lies! Stay away from me, ventriloquist monster!”
Dak blinked. Then sighed and let her arrow fly. It hit the ground at the same place than before, provoking a new scream. “…I am not kidding,” she concluded.
After a fleeting moment of hesitation, someone crawled away from the pedestal and slowly got up. It was an Altmer man with long, blond hair partially covered with a dirty scarf. He was wearing torn clothes and he was holding a fork tightly. He eventually looked at Dak with a scared expression on his face and she finally understood why the Bosmer had mistaken the Altmer at the bar with this one. Except of the color of the eyes and the shape of the corners of the mouths, they almost looked identical.
“…so I eventually found you.”
Lorundil Gladro blinked. And ran away yelling, to Dak’s dismay. He took the stairs that leaded deeper underground into the ruins. With a sigh, Dakari started running as well.
Ath would keep his face blank when the others said to disable not to kill. He would quickly put his bow back up and cross his arms over his chest while staring back at the wounded assassin who seemed to take interest in him? Then again, it was Ath who had put the arrows into the assassins body.
Ath's eyes would then begin to roam over the assassin noting the shrouded armor and if the others were to look at the bosmer in that moment they may very well see a calculating look in the wood elf's eyes while looking the man up and down. The breton was roughly the same size of Ath and the armor looked like it could fit him to. He wondered then just how close knit the family was, if the dark brotherhood would notice a stranger in there midst for just a day, maybe two at the most.
Ath turned his attention to Dust and stared at her. She had rather quickly stopped what she was going to say and he was curious why. He could understand why Astarill did not want the assassin dead, but there was little reason why Dust would just cut off....or so he thought. Calculating eyes watched her for a few more seconds before turning back to the assassin.
Ath's hand reached behind his back as if resting there and his fingers came to rest upon the hilt of a dagger he had hidden there. The bosmer debated killing the breton for a few different reasons, not the least of which having a pissed off dark brotherhood agent remembering his face later on after all this was done. The bosmer glanced to the ruins, then back to the assassin. They had little time really, but the more important issue right this second was the breton in front of him.
"Would they believe it though....." He muttered and rubbed his chin with the hand not resting on the dagger. "To bad there is not a potion to change appearances." A soft chuckle escaped his lips along with a cruel calculating smile. Seemed the happy, jovial bosmer had a darker side to him no? Now was the time to make a choice though. Hand gripped a little tighter around the dagger hilt as he was leaning towards just killing the man and being done with it.
Ath's eyes would then begin to roam over the assassin noting the shrouded armor and if the others were to look at the bosmer in that moment they may very well see a calculating look in the wood elf's eyes while looking the man up and down. The breton was roughly the same size of Ath and the armor looked like it could fit him to. He wondered then just how close knit the family was, if the dark brotherhood would notice a stranger in there midst for just a day, maybe two at the most.
Ath turned his attention to Dust and stared at her. She had rather quickly stopped what she was going to say and he was curious why. He could understand why Astarill did not want the assassin dead, but there was little reason why Dust would just cut off....or so he thought. Calculating eyes watched her for a few more seconds before turning back to the assassin.
Ath's hand reached behind his back as if resting there and his fingers came to rest upon the hilt of a dagger he had hidden there. The bosmer debated killing the breton for a few different reasons, not the least of which having a pissed off dark brotherhood agent remembering his face later on after all this was done. The bosmer glanced to the ruins, then back to the assassin. They had little time really, but the more important issue right this second was the breton in front of him.
"Would they believe it though....." He muttered and rubbed his chin with the hand not resting on the dagger. "To bad there is not a potion to change appearances." A soft chuckle escaped his lips along with a cruel calculating smile. Seemed the happy, jovial bosmer had a darker side to him no? Now was the time to make a choice though. Hand gripped a little tighter around the dagger hilt as he was leaning towards just killing the man and being done with it.
Dust bit her lip, watching as the Breton man was given the proposal by Astarill. She felt oddly relieved, even if this was not one of the Brotherhood members she called 'family.' She watched as the man stood after accepting Astarill's proposal, offering him a hand. "What Sanctuary are you from?"
The Breton frowned, confused, before his eyes widened. "You're one of - ?" He trailed away, narrowing his eyes in suspicion before speaking. "I'll follow, but I see no reason to tell you anything. You could be lying." His eyes trailed from her face down to her hip, to the dagger strapped on her belt.
"If you're going to follow, we may as well get those arrows out. Otherwise blood will attract the slaughterfish." Dust ignored the assassin's misgivings, raising a brow as he tried to properly put weight on his leg and collapsed, cursing. She knelt by him as he growled, drawing her dagger and beginning to saw away the shaft of the arrow. The Breton grit his teeth in pain, only speaking when he gazed at the dagger, and the tendril of nightshade engraved on it.
"…You are one."
"An alchemist, that's all. Hold still." Dust grabbed the edge of the arrow and effectively pulled it from his shoulder, healing the wound shut as best she could before repeating the procedure with his thigh as he breathed raggedly. "We don't have time for me to properly bandage it right now, but that should hold you until - " Dust trailed off, faltering as the Breton's breathing slowed and he gazed at her intently. "…What?"
"I remember you, now. You're Lucien's woman."
Lucien's. Dust made a small sound of disgust, getting to her feet. Where does he recognize me from? Some sort of meeting, perhaps… "I'm nobody's 'woman', except my own, thank you. Drink this, now, and follow us." Dust offered him another small vial of waterwalking from her bag before turning, looking increasingly annoyed.
The Breton frowned, confused, before his eyes widened. "You're one of - ?" He trailed away, narrowing his eyes in suspicion before speaking. "I'll follow, but I see no reason to tell you anything. You could be lying." His eyes trailed from her face down to her hip, to the dagger strapped on her belt.
"If you're going to follow, we may as well get those arrows out. Otherwise blood will attract the slaughterfish." Dust ignored the assassin's misgivings, raising a brow as he tried to properly put weight on his leg and collapsed, cursing. She knelt by him as he growled, drawing her dagger and beginning to saw away the shaft of the arrow. The Breton grit his teeth in pain, only speaking when he gazed at the dagger, and the tendril of nightshade engraved on it.
"…You are one."
"An alchemist, that's all. Hold still." Dust grabbed the edge of the arrow and effectively pulled it from his shoulder, healing the wound shut as best she could before repeating the procedure with his thigh as he breathed raggedly. "We don't have time for me to properly bandage it right now, but that should hold you until - " Dust trailed off, faltering as the Breton's breathing slowed and he gazed at her intently. "…What?"
"I remember you, now. You're Lucien's woman."
Lucien's. Dust made a small sound of disgust, getting to her feet. Where does he recognize me from? Some sort of meeting, perhaps… "I'm nobody's 'woman', except my own, thank you. Drink this, now, and follow us." Dust offered him another small vial of waterwalking from her bag before turning, looking increasingly annoyed.
Astarill sheathed his sword and pulled one mouth corner into a vague look of dismay, while he observed Dust kneeling to help the assassin with the arrow wounds. He would have let the Breton stumble on a bit longer, but he had to admit it was more efficient for him to be mobile, free of the worst of the pain, and out of immediate danger of blood loss and infection. In any case, it wasn’t as if he expected anything else from the alchemist. He knew her by now.
While Dust quickly patched up the assassin well enough for him not to slow them down, Astarill turned his gaze to the Bosmer. The man looked odd. Tense, it seemed. Though not quite. Astarill narrowed his eyes at him, his gaze wandering to the arm of which the hand was hidden from view behind Ath’s back, then up at the Bosmer’s face, following his gaze to the assassin and back.
Interesting, Astarill thought, And not in a good way.
Regardless, he opened the vial Dust gave him and downed its contents.
-
With a suspicious glare, the assassin took the potion. He felt more willing to cooperate now that he had identified Dust as a Sister, but he wasn’t about to earn the title of ‘credulous nitwit.’ He looked at the vial from which Astarill drank, looked down to study his own again, decided they were similar, and only then downed the potion. Immediately after that, he received a shove against the shoulder from the Altmer to urge him to move.
Pushing the man onto the water ahead of him, Astarill started walking toward the ruins on the other side.
While Dust quickly patched up the assassin well enough for him not to slow them down, Astarill turned his gaze to the Bosmer. The man looked odd. Tense, it seemed. Though not quite. Astarill narrowed his eyes at him, his gaze wandering to the arm of which the hand was hidden from view behind Ath’s back, then up at the Bosmer’s face, following his gaze to the assassin and back.
Interesting, Astarill thought, And not in a good way.
Regardless, he opened the vial Dust gave him and downed its contents.
-
With a suspicious glare, the assassin took the potion. He felt more willing to cooperate now that he had identified Dust as a Sister, but he wasn’t about to earn the title of ‘credulous nitwit.’ He looked at the vial from which Astarill drank, looked down to study his own again, decided they were similar, and only then downed the potion. Immediately after that, he received a shove against the shoulder from the Altmer to urge him to move.
Pushing the man onto the water ahead of him, Astarill started walking toward the ruins on the other side.
“…could you stop running and allow me to explain myself?”
“Your mother was an Imp and your father smelt of comberries!”
Dakari had to acknowledge two things about the Altmer: he was an excellent runner and had a quick wit. Too bad he was also totally irrational. The chase had them too deep into the ruins for her own liking and the Nine only knew what could be waiting for them in a corner, yet it didn’t seem to bother Gladro.
“…listen,” she called again, “I mean you no harm.” At least so far, but it wasn’t something he had to know. “I, however, need your help.”
After a few more meters, the Altmer stopped his race and turned for looking at her. His expression was unreadable until Dak caught up with him. He examined her and started laughing.
“Oh, so you’re here for the game!?”
“…no, I’m just here for the…”
“My master was convinced it would be funny! Those guys have a broom stick up their collective arses, they need to learn how to have fun!”
“…so it’s just a game?” insisted Dak. The Altmer nodded vigorously and laughed again. “You’re mad,” she concluded gloomily.
Lorundil just smiled and walked on. With a deep sigh, Dak followed him, not sure about what going on anymore.
“Your mother was an Imp and your father smelt of comberries!”
Dakari had to acknowledge two things about the Altmer: he was an excellent runner and had a quick wit. Too bad he was also totally irrational. The chase had them too deep into the ruins for her own liking and the Nine only knew what could be waiting for them in a corner, yet it didn’t seem to bother Gladro.
“…listen,” she called again, “I mean you no harm.” At least so far, but it wasn’t something he had to know. “I, however, need your help.”
After a few more meters, the Altmer stopped his race and turned for looking at her. His expression was unreadable until Dak caught up with him. He examined her and started laughing.
“Oh, so you’re here for the game!?”
“…no, I’m just here for the…”
“My master was convinced it would be funny! Those guys have a broom stick up their collective arses, they need to learn how to have fun!”
“…so it’s just a game?” insisted Dak. The Altmer nodded vigorously and laughed again. “You’re mad,” she concluded gloomily.
Lorundil just smiled and walked on. With a deep sigh, Dak followed him, not sure about what going on anymore.
Ath shook his head and removed his hand from the dagger that was behind his back. In the ruins he would decide the assassins fate, among the many twists and turns. With that decided Ath would pop the cork on the bottle of water walking and down it. Once it took affect he stepped out on the water and made his way over to the ruins.
Ath didn't waste any time on walking over there and when he was there he looked about. "There is the boat." He pointed to it then looked up to the entrance and headed over to it. Once at the door he would check for any traps and finding none opened the door and entered. He was here for a singular purpose now and that was to find his friend.
Ath didn't waste any time on walking over there and when he was there he looked about. "There is the boat." He pointed to it then looked up to the entrance and headed over to it. Once at the door he would check for any traps and finding none opened the door and entered. He was here for a singular purpose now and that was to find his friend.
(OOC: Sorry for the short, late post guys! I've been slowly muddling through exams and now I'm going to see my family, and I wasn't quite sure what to have Dusty do. Let me know if there's anything that I should add.)
Dust sighed, dragging a hand over her face as the three began to move over the dark, still waters of the Rumare. "Watch out for slaughterfish - they might jump up and try to get your feet." They walked on in silence then, until they reached the ruins, shining eerily bright under the moon. Dust narrowed her eyes as Ath'vesu pointed out the abandoned boat.
"...Someone got here before us. I think I know who." Dust grimaced, glancing back at the others. "I guess we should be ready."
Let me know if there's anything that I should add.)Dust sighed, dragging a hand over her face as the three began to move over the dark, still waters of the Rumare. "Watch out for slaughterfish - they might jump up and try to get your feet." They walked on in silence then, until they reached the ruins, shining eerily bright under the moon. Dust narrowed her eyes as Ath'vesu pointed out the abandoned boat.
"...Someone got here before us. I think I know who." Dust grimaced, glancing back at the others. "I guess we should be ready."
Astarill kept his gaze on Ath and the assassin when he stepped on the shore, but nodded in response to Dust’s last remark. He waited for the Bosmer to check the entrance, and put a hand on the assassin’s shoulder to prevent him from following Ath inside.
Having seen the look on the Bosmer’s face earlier, Astarill thought it prudent to keep the assassin away from the thief as far as the situation allowed. He estimated the chance that the assassin would suddenly attempt to stab Dust in the back to be fairly slim, and so he waited for the alchemist to precede him. He looked at her and nodded his head towards the entrance. He intended to push the assassin on after Dust, to take up the rear himself, thus providing himself with a reasonable opportunity to stop any thieves and assassins from running off and ruining his plans, should the need arise.
Having seen the look on the Bosmer’s face earlier, Astarill thought it prudent to keep the assassin away from the thief as far as the situation allowed. He estimated the chance that the assassin would suddenly attempt to stab Dust in the back to be fairly slim, and so he waited for the alchemist to precede him. He looked at her and nodded his head towards the entrance. He intended to push the assassin on after Dust, to take up the rear himself, thus providing himself with a reasonable opportunity to stop any thieves and assassins from running off and ruining his plans, should the need arise.
“…so what is that whole game about? To piss off some of the most dangerous people in Cyrodiil and to keep your fingers crossed that you will survive the encounter?”
Since the answer never came, Dakari arched an eyebrow at Lorundil. He was looking down at a knife he was playing with and didn’t seem to care about her anymore. Dak narrowed her eyes at the knife and cursed when she recognized her own weapon. She took it back with a frown.
“…try that again and I’ll cut your hands. The two of them,” she simply said once she was sure her beloved hunting knife was hanging at her belt again. “So, what’s the game?”
“I don’t really know,” admit the Altmer, “my master just whispered at my ear and I listened to Him.He told me to take the journal and I did it.”
“…without a single complaining? Even if it could lead you to your death?”
“All that matters to me is the amusement it will provide to my master.”
“…I hope it’s something worth dying for. Enough on this subject though. Can you tell me where we are supposed to go now?”
The answer was obvious to her: hardly deeper into the ruins. They had reached a new, big room with what looked like an altar in its middle and crevices into its walls. The air was becoming more humid and Dak could hear water somewhere, though she had no idea from where it was coming. There was a single door but it was totally locked – Dak had kicked it as a check and almost broken her little toe by doing so – and rust had covered the lock a long time ago, making it difficult to unbolt even for someone with a good lockpick.
And neither of them had a lockpick. Well, maybe Lorundil had one, but he had shown no interest or intention into using it so far, so the result was the same. They had apparently reached the end of their journey into Vilverin. The idea didn't exactly thrilled Dak. She personally disliked to be forced to turn back, no matter why, and there was a slim but growing risk they would come face to face with the Bosmer thief and his clique. She was more than willing to give the Altmer back to them, but not before she got the infamous journal.
And the journal wasn’t exactly Lorundil’s main concern yet, as he started babbling happily again.
“We need a good spot,” he explained. “Somewhere with a lot of space and things to shelter behind. Then we’ll wait for the others players. And we’ll defend our lives by throwing them fish sticks!”
“…to defend our lives by throwing...fish sticks.”
“Fish sticks!”
“…our very lives. With fish sticks.”
“Fish sticks.”
“…like real fish sticks?”
“FISH STICKS!”
“…you must be joking.”
“DO I LOOK LIKE I’M JOKING?!”
“…sadly no,” admitted Dakari. “Fish sticks...and why not letuces as well? And what the hell are you doing now?” she sighed when Lorundil suddenly squeaked and started running to a crevice which was contained nothing but a sarcophagus and an empty pedestral for welkynd stone. He started to grope for something on the ground behind the sarcophagus with a very happy expression that Dak didn’t like at all and squeals with delight when he pushed a switch that slowly, very slowly and rather noisily, opened a passage into the wall on the left of the grave.
“…you must be joking,” repeated Dakari as she started to massaged her temples.
A long rale and the sudden musky smell of death coming from the newly-opened passage convinced her that things had just become really serious actually. She took her bow and nooked an arrow, ready to shoot the first zombie which would come into her field of view.
Since the answer never came, Dakari arched an eyebrow at Lorundil. He was looking down at a knife he was playing with and didn’t seem to care about her anymore. Dak narrowed her eyes at the knife and cursed when she recognized her own weapon. She took it back with a frown.
“…try that again and I’ll cut your hands. The two of them,” she simply said once she was sure her beloved hunting knife was hanging at her belt again. “So, what’s the game?”
“I don’t really know,” admit the Altmer, “my master just whispered at my ear and I listened to Him.He told me to take the journal and I did it.”
“…without a single complaining? Even if it could lead you to your death?”
“All that matters to me is the amusement it will provide to my master.”
“…I hope it’s something worth dying for. Enough on this subject though. Can you tell me where we are supposed to go now?”
The answer was obvious to her: hardly deeper into the ruins. They had reached a new, big room with what looked like an altar in its middle and crevices into its walls. The air was becoming more humid and Dak could hear water somewhere, though she had no idea from where it was coming. There was a single door but it was totally locked – Dak had kicked it as a check and almost broken her little toe by doing so – and rust had covered the lock a long time ago, making it difficult to unbolt even for someone with a good lockpick.
And neither of them had a lockpick. Well, maybe Lorundil had one, but he had shown no interest or intention into using it so far, so the result was the same. They had apparently reached the end of their journey into Vilverin. The idea didn't exactly thrilled Dak. She personally disliked to be forced to turn back, no matter why, and there was a slim but growing risk they would come face to face with the Bosmer thief and his clique. She was more than willing to give the Altmer back to them, but not before she got the infamous journal.
And the journal wasn’t exactly Lorundil’s main concern yet, as he started babbling happily again.
“We need a good spot,” he explained. “Somewhere with a lot of space and things to shelter behind. Then we’ll wait for the others players. And we’ll defend our lives by throwing them fish sticks!”
“…to defend our lives by throwing...fish sticks.”
“Fish sticks!”
“…our very lives. With fish sticks.”
“Fish sticks.”
“…like real fish sticks?”
“FISH STICKS!”
“…you must be joking.”
“DO I LOOK LIKE I’M JOKING?!”
“…sadly no,” admitted Dakari. “Fish sticks...and why not letuces as well? And what the hell are you doing now?” she sighed when Lorundil suddenly squeaked and started running to a crevice which was contained nothing but a sarcophagus and an empty pedestral for welkynd stone. He started to grope for something on the ground behind the sarcophagus with a very happy expression that Dak didn’t like at all and squeals with delight when he pushed a switch that slowly, very slowly and rather noisily, opened a passage into the wall on the left of the grave.
“…you must be joking,” repeated Dakari as she started to massaged her temples.
A long rale and the sudden musky smell of death coming from the newly-opened passage convinced her that things had just become really serious actually. She took her bow and nooked an arrow, ready to shoot the first zombie which would come into her field of view.
Ath remained silent once inside though he would take his bow from around his shoulder and nook an arrow pulling back slightly. Eyes scanned around as he went deeper into the place, ahead of the others since Astarill didn't seem to want the assassin in front of him.....which of course was probably a good idea since Ath was considering killing the assassin.
They would arive at where the first set of traps had been and he frowned. "Hmmm already taken care of.....odd but helpful in a way." He continued on deeper into the ruins taking it nice and slow but finding the other traps already disengaged or triggered so they did not work. Now that was starting to worry him because he doubted that it was the undead that made these traps safe.
"So when we find whoever is here with our mutual friend.........do we kill them or talk to them?" He asked glancing back to the others of the group.
((sorry it took so long for a post, its been hectic for this Christmas x.x ))
They would arive at where the first set of traps had been and he frowned. "Hmmm already taken care of.....odd but helpful in a way." He continued on deeper into the ruins taking it nice and slow but finding the other traps already disengaged or triggered so they did not work. Now that was starting to worry him because he doubted that it was the undead that made these traps safe.
"So when we find whoever is here with our mutual friend.........do we kill them or talk to them?" He asked glancing back to the others of the group.
((sorry it took so long for a post, its been hectic for this Christmas x.x ))
(OOC: Gah, late again! *smacks self* Sorry! I hope this moved us forward some as well to make up for my lateness. Lemme know if there's anything I should change!)
Dust squinted through the darkness as they entered the ruin, muttering almost unconsciously to summon a little ball of light to her fingers, casting light around them. She glanced up at Ath'vesu's words, frowning and foliowing his gaze.
"…Yes. Yes, they're all already done. One less worry, I suppose. And when we find our mutual friend, we talk." She made a point of glaring at the Bosmer, although his back was to her. "No killing, until it's absolutely necessary."
The assassin behind her gave a quiet frown. "I need to complete my work."
"We'll - figure it out when we get to that, alright?" Dust sighed, dragging a hand through her hair and carefully stepping over a bone.
The paths into the ruin were cleared and simple, leading them deeper and deeper, as well as closer to their quarry. Bandit corpses as well as those of skeletons littered the rooms - and a few arrows.
"Is there anything up ahead, Astarill?" Dust glanced over her shoulder at him, unnerved by the silence. The group moved through a long hall, closing in on a large room with an altar.
Dust squinted through the darkness as they entered the ruin, muttering almost unconsciously to summon a little ball of light to her fingers, casting light around them. She glanced up at Ath'vesu's words, frowning and foliowing his gaze.
"…Yes. Yes, they're all already done. One less worry, I suppose. And when we find our mutual friend, we talk." She made a point of glaring at the Bosmer, although his back was to her. "No killing, until it's absolutely necessary."
The assassin behind her gave a quiet frown. "I need to complete my work."
"We'll - figure it out when we get to that, alright?" Dust sighed, dragging a hand through her hair and carefully stepping over a bone.
The paths into the ruin were cleared and simple, leading them deeper and deeper, as well as closer to their quarry. Bandit corpses as well as those of skeletons littered the rooms - and a few arrows.
"Is there anything up ahead, Astarill?" Dust glanced over her shoulder at him, unnerved by the silence. The group moved through a long hall, closing in on a large room with an altar.
Who the ‘mutual friend’ was supposed to be, Astarill could not imagine. If they meant Lorundil, he would have to point out that the term was wholly inadequate. In the case of the seasick woman who wasted half a bottle of shein, the term was possibly even less appropriate. He did not care to start a discussion on semantics, however, and kept his silence while he followed behind the others.
When they reached a hall with an altar and Dust inquired of him whether there was anything up ahead of them, Astarill muttered the words of a Detect Life spell. His eyes flashed purple once again and he looked while he walked around the hall. He shook his head when he saw no signs of life within the range of his spell.
As the colour of his eyes returned to normal, he halted his walk around the room and narrowed his eyes at a passage within a recess in one of the walls.
“Oh, hello,” he muttered, ducking his head to enter the passage. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of decay and emerged in the hall beyond. He cast a quick look around, then turned his head towards a pile of bones to his left. He approached and squatted beside the sorry remains of a skeleton. He picked up some of the bones, examining them before tossing them back.
“Disassembled recently,” he concluded, and got up. “We’re catching up.”
He waited for the others to join him to take his position at the rear of the group again.
(((OOC: And yes, I checked with Merela before assuming Dakari and/or Lorundil vanquished some skeletons.)))
When they reached a hall with an altar and Dust inquired of him whether there was anything up ahead of them, Astarill muttered the words of a Detect Life spell. His eyes flashed purple once again and he looked while he walked around the hall. He shook his head when he saw no signs of life within the range of his spell.
As the colour of his eyes returned to normal, he halted his walk around the room and narrowed his eyes at a passage within a recess in one of the walls.
“Oh, hello,” he muttered, ducking his head to enter the passage. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of decay and emerged in the hall beyond. He cast a quick look around, then turned his head towards a pile of bones to his left. He approached and squatted beside the sorry remains of a skeleton. He picked up some of the bones, examining them before tossing them back.
“Disassembled recently,” he concluded, and got up. “We’re catching up.”
He waited for the others to join him to take his position at the rear of the group again.
(((OOC: And yes, I checked with Merela before assuming Dakari and/or Lorundil vanquished some skeletons.
)))
Dakari notched an arrow and drew back the bowstring, holding her breath as she aimed at a wandering skeleton at the other side of the corridor. Behind her, Lorundil opened wide, excited eyes. They had noticed a suspicious large metal plate with holes in it in the middle of the corridor and the skeleton offered them the occasion to check if it was a trap.
There was a small twang as Dak released her arrow and she watched it sail through the air and ricochet off the skull. The skeleton stumbled, let out a piercing shriek and ran in her direction, its rusty sword raised and ready to hit. But at the moment it reached the metal plate, this one disappeared into the ground. After a moment, the plate reappeared. The skeleton had been violently disassembled.
“Oooooh!” giggled Lorundil with delight.
“…we’ll go along the walls,” concluded Dakari. “And let’s hope the dead will stay this way, my quiver doesn’t produce arrows on its own.”
“It would be better if it products fish sticks,” claimed the Altmer when he reached the other side of the corridor.
“…maybe. Or not,” sighed Dak once she reached the other side as well. “Where are we going now?”
Lorundil frowned then ran in direction of a stair, climbed them and turned on the left. Dak rolled her eyes and followed him. They finally reached a vast room with two strange columns and odd noises coming from the walls. There was a single door, but it looked as rusty as the one in the room with the altar.
“…what’s that?” muttered Dak while walking closer of the columns for examining one.
It was mounted with bites of welkynd stone and some parts apparently could be activated. That’s what she did. A part of the wall on her right opened and a skeleton sprang out with a furious shriek.
“…not again,” sighed Dakari while preparing a new arrow.
“I didn’t do anything!” claimed Lorundil.
The skeleton didn’t seem to care. At all.
(OCC: And happy new year everybody! 8D)
There was a small twang as Dak released her arrow and she watched it sail through the air and ricochet off the skull. The skeleton stumbled, let out a piercing shriek and ran in her direction, its rusty sword raised and ready to hit. But at the moment it reached the metal plate, this one disappeared into the ground. After a moment, the plate reappeared. The skeleton had been violently disassembled.
“Oooooh!” giggled Lorundil with delight.
“…we’ll go along the walls,” concluded Dakari. “And let’s hope the dead will stay this way, my quiver doesn’t produce arrows on its own.”
“It would be better if it products fish sticks,” claimed the Altmer when he reached the other side of the corridor.
“…maybe. Or not,” sighed Dak once she reached the other side as well. “Where are we going now?”
Lorundil frowned then ran in direction of a stair, climbed them and turned on the left. Dak rolled her eyes and followed him. They finally reached a vast room with two strange columns and odd noises coming from the walls. There was a single door, but it looked as rusty as the one in the room with the altar.
“…what’s that?” muttered Dak while walking closer of the columns for examining one.
It was mounted with bites of welkynd stone and some parts apparently could be activated. That’s what she did. A part of the wall on her right opened and a skeleton sprang out with a furious shriek.
“…not again,” sighed Dakari while preparing a new arrow.
“I didn’t do anything!” claimed Lorundil.
The skeleton didn’t seem to care. At all.
(OCC: And happy new year everybody! 8D)
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