(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)
Ath pretended not to hear what the assassin said behind them. He had made up his mind on what to do already and nothing was likely to change the course of the coming events. A simple nod was given to Dust though at her words. So they would talk first and then see what was to come of that. Ath stopped though and tilted his head as what sounded like a shriek echoed.
"Hmm, well that sounds welcoming don't it!" He said in almost a cheerful manner as if this was just a midnight stroll through some woods.
Ath pulled back on the arrow just encase he needed to fire quickly and would then follow Astarill down the passageway. "Good." He mutters. So Ath would follow the way that Dak and Lorundil took, walking with the others in the group, though once more he was at the forefront like in coming into the ruins in the first place. He had his own reasons for wanting to find them quickly and what better way then to lead?
As they walked Ath would keep glancing from side to side, checking recesses encase there had been a skeleton or such that had not been killed by Dak and Lorundil. Soon enough, if they kept on there current course and not pulled off some side passage by any of the group, they would quickly come to the room that Lorundil and Dak would be in and so they could now get down to whatever business needed to be done. If the skeleton they were fighting wasn't dead, he would pull and release the arrow at the skeletons neck trying to dislodge the head. If it was destroyed then he would step forward. "Lorundil!" He called out to get the attention of his friend.
((OOC: Gah! im so sorry x.x Half asleep when I wrote it from lack of sleep, I missed that rear x.x hope this works better?))
"Hmm, well that sounds welcoming don't it!" He said in almost a cheerful manner as if this was just a midnight stroll through some woods.
Ath pulled back on the arrow just encase he needed to fire quickly and would then follow Astarill down the passageway. "Good." He mutters. So Ath would follow the way that Dak and Lorundil took, walking with the others in the group, though once more he was at the forefront like in coming into the ruins in the first place. He had his own reasons for wanting to find them quickly and what better way then to lead?
As they walked Ath would keep glancing from side to side, checking recesses encase there had been a skeleton or such that had not been killed by Dak and Lorundil. Soon enough, if they kept on there current course and not pulled off some side passage by any of the group, they would quickly come to the room that Lorundil and Dak would be in and so they could now get down to whatever business needed to be done. If the skeleton they were fighting wasn't dead, he would pull and release the arrow at the skeletons neck trying to dislodge the head. If it was destroyed then he would step forward. "Lorundil!" He called out to get the attention of his friend.
((OOC: Gah! im so sorry x.x Half asleep when I wrote it from lack of sleep, I missed that rear x.x hope this works better?))
(((OOC:*edited post because it is no longer necessary* No problem! Happens to everyone. 
)))
No problem! Happens to everyone. )))
Dust felt little comfort from the brief nod of acknowledgement Ath'vesu gave. There was something off about him - he was friendly enough, but there lingered something beneath his jovial manner, working towards his own ends. She shrugged it off, shaking her head. Of course he is - we all are.
The path slowly became more sure as the group got closer to its target. The sounds of battle greeted them - a skeleton, thrashing as a final arrow fell into its neck and it collapsed into a pile of bone. Ath'vesu called to his friend, and Dust craned her neck to see around them.
Okay, two here are Dark Brotherhood and want this Lorundil dead, and to retrieve whatever he stole. One - well, two, counting Lorundil himself - are thieves guild and want to keep what they stole and escape, naturally. Then there's Astarill and I. She bit her lip. All of us with different goals about this man.
This - can't possibly end well.
The path slowly became more sure as the group got closer to its target. The sounds of battle greeted them - a skeleton, thrashing as a final arrow fell into its neck and it collapsed into a pile of bone. Ath'vesu called to his friend, and Dust craned her neck to see around them.
Okay, two here are Dark Brotherhood and want this Lorundil dead, and to retrieve whatever he stole. One - well, two, counting Lorundil himself - are thieves guild and want to keep what they stole and escape, naturally. Then there's Astarill and I. She bit her lip. All of us with different goals about this man.
This - can't possibly end well.
Astarill saw the assassin in front of him tense and move a hand toward the hilt of a dagger. He put his hand on the man’s shoulder and gripped it firmly as a warning. He kept his voice low when he spoke, intending his words for the assassin’s ears only.
“Don’t do anything unless I tell you, and you might survive this.”
Or he might not. Astarill didn’t care, in all honesty, as long as he got Lorundil and the item the Dark Brotherhood was after. If the assassin would not cooperate, he could still ask Dust to put him in touch with the Brotherhood, but it was good to keep one’s options numerous and open, and he didn’t want to burden Dust if it could be avoided. And he certainly couldn’t count the woman, who got here before them, as an option. She had already proven beyond a doubt to be too unreliable for that.
Astarill stayed back when he entered the room, cast a quick look around, and saw no direct way out aside from the door opening he stood in. And so he remained there, drawing his sword, ready to try to stop any who would run off without permission.
“Don’t do anything unless I tell you, and you might survive this.”
Or he might not. Astarill didn’t care, in all honesty, as long as he got Lorundil and the item the Dark Brotherhood was after. If the assassin would not cooperate, he could still ask Dust to put him in touch with the Brotherhood, but it was good to keep one’s options numerous and open, and he didn’t want to burden Dust if it could be avoided. And he certainly couldn’t count the woman, who got here before them, as an option. She had already proven beyond a doubt to be too unreliable for that.
Astarill stayed back when he entered the room, cast a quick look around, and saw no direct way out aside from the door opening he stood in. And so he remained there, drawing his sword, ready to try to stop any who would run off without permission.
Dak hissed when an arrow that didn’t belong to her hit the skeleton and turn him back into a useless pile of bones. She spun round and noticed the newcomers. The Bosmer, the Altmer and the Breton had eventually caught up with Lorundil and herself. And they apparently had brought someone else with them - and a member of the Dark Brotherhood, no less.
The Bosmer called out for Lorundil but Dakari didn’t care. She muttered a brief prayer to Kynareth and let go of the string she was holding since the skeleton had collapsed. The arrow flew silently through the air and went through into the throat of the assassin who collapsed, dead.
“Owned!” squealed Lorundil happily before frowning. “You could have used a fish stick, you know?” he meditated before waving his hand at Ath’vesu. “Oh, you’re here too! And you brought friends with you! Isn’t that wonderful?! The master will be so pleased!”
Dak was convinced than Sithis was far lesser pleased, but she didn’t care. She took a new arrow from her quiver and notched it slowly, glaring at the Altmer and the Breton girl without blinking.
“…I hope the message is clear,” she simply said.
(OOC: I discussed the whole “Dak kills the assassin without random Wrath of Sithis popping up” with Ethelle, and we concluded that it’s because Dakari never “embraced” Sithis and the Night Mother. You don’t like it, deal with it. :p)
The Bosmer called out for Lorundil but Dakari didn’t care. She muttered a brief prayer to Kynareth and let go of the string she was holding since the skeleton had collapsed. The arrow flew silently through the air and went through into the throat of the assassin who collapsed, dead.
“Owned!” squealed Lorundil happily before frowning. “You could have used a fish stick, you know?” he meditated before waving his hand at Ath’vesu. “Oh, you’re here too! And you brought friends with you! Isn’t that wonderful?! The master will be so pleased!”
Dak was convinced than Sithis was far lesser pleased, but she didn’t care. She took a new arrow from her quiver and notched it slowly, glaring at the Altmer and the Breton girl without blinking.
“…I hope the message is clear,” she simply said.
(OOC: I discussed the whole “Dak kills the assassin without random Wrath of Sithis popping up” with Ethelle, and we concluded that it’s because Dakari never “embraced” Sithis and the Night Mother. You don’t like it, deal with it. :p)
Ath saw Dak release the arrow and really didn't have much time to move should it be aimed at him, luckly it was not aimed at any of them but the assassin in there group. Ath turned to look the dead man for a moment. Well that took care of that, and saved him from killing the assassin, and whats more he would now have a set of shrouded armor if he was able to take it. Attention was turned back to Dak and Lorundil.
"The master will be pleased?" He raised an eyebrow. "You stole this on his orders?" He asked Lorundil.
If that was indeed the case, that was news to him and he did not know why The Grey Fox would give such an order........unless that was just in Lorundil's mind which was entirely plausible as the altmer was mad. But still, he was a good friend of Ath's. So without little regard he would begin to walk towards the altmer. Glancing to Dak.
"I'm not going to try anything funny okay, so don't shoot."
He uttered to the woman and hopefully she would let him go to the altmer. If he was able to get to Lorundil, Ath would reach out and touch the mans shoulder gently while looking the other thief over for any wounds or hurts that may have been caused, for anything out of the ordinary on the guy. IF Dak did not let him get near he would have to content himself with searching Lorundil's state from where he was, his hand resting behind his back on the dagger that was there.
"What is your stake in this?" He suddenly asked Dak.
"The master will be pleased?" He raised an eyebrow. "You stole this on his orders?" He asked Lorundil.
If that was indeed the case, that was news to him and he did not know why The Grey Fox would give such an order........unless that was just in Lorundil's mind which was entirely plausible as the altmer was mad. But still, he was a good friend of Ath's. So without little regard he would begin to walk towards the altmer. Glancing to Dak.
"I'm not going to try anything funny okay, so don't shoot."
He uttered to the woman and hopefully she would let him go to the altmer. If he was able to get to Lorundil, Ath would reach out and touch the mans shoulder gently while looking the other thief over for any wounds or hurts that may have been caused, for anything out of the ordinary on the guy. IF Dak did not let him get near he would have to content himself with searching Lorundil's state from where he was, his hand resting behind his back on the dagger that was there.
"What is your stake in this?" He suddenly asked Dak.
Dust heard only the gentle hiss of the arrow on the air and the wet thwack behind her before it had time to register that she should duck. But it wasn't aimed for her - Dakari's arrow struck neatly into the throat of the assassin behind her.
"No - !" She cursed as the assassin unceremoniously collapsed. She knelt on the cold stone , looking over the man. No, there was no healing that could help him now. Necromancy, perhaps, but not healing. She slowly pulled her hand from his throat, glaring under her bangs at the woman who gripped her bow.
"You're insane, and a traitor." Dust hissed, barely loud enough to be heard. That had been a warning for them, after all. She didn't dare raise her voice. But…
They're both of the family - she broke a Tenet, but the wraith hasn't come. How many times could she have done this before? A traitor had invaded the Brotherhood once, after all, and it could happen again. Thoughts of Antoinetta, Vicente, Ocheeva, even Lucien, dead, made her shudder. When would she do it again?
Ath'vesu asked the woman of her 'stake' in this - Dust narrowed her eyes, listening carefully. She very much wanted to know, too. She wasn't family, but she had her loyalties nonetheless.
"No - !" She cursed as the assassin unceremoniously collapsed. She knelt on the cold stone , looking over the man. No, there was no healing that could help him now. Necromancy, perhaps, but not healing. She slowly pulled her hand from his throat, glaring under her bangs at the woman who gripped her bow.
"You're insane, and a traitor." Dust hissed, barely loud enough to be heard. That had been a warning for them, after all. She didn't dare raise her voice. But…
They're both of the family - she broke a Tenet, but the wraith hasn't come. How many times could she have done this before? A traitor had invaded the Brotherhood once, after all, and it could happen again. Thoughts of Antoinetta, Vicente, Ocheeva, even Lucien, dead, made her shudder. When would she do it again?
Ath'vesu asked the woman of her 'stake' in this - Dust narrowed her eyes, listening carefully. She very much wanted to know, too. She wasn't family, but she had her loyalties nonetheless.
Astarill narrowed his eyes when the woman released her arrow, then looked down at the assassin in front of him, who gargled and collapsed. He raised a single eyebrow and observed the alchemist as she checked the man’s vital signs, or lack thereof.
“It seems I lied,” he muttered under his breath, moving his gaze up from the dead assassin to the live assassin up ahead.
Like the others, he was somewhat puzzled about the exact nature of the woman’s goals. If she was indeed a member of the Dark Brotherhood as Dust suspected, he saw no reason for her to kill a brother. Unless the Dark Brotherhood wasn’t such a tight-knit ‘family’ after all, and this journal that was supposedly stolen had caused differences of opinion. Luckily, Ath saw fit to ask her precisely what in Oblivion she thought she was doing and as such saved him the trouble.
Astarill’s eyes briefly wandered to the real source of his current problems, and he scoffed quietly to himself. The other Altmer didn’t look like him at all. People were obviously idiots if they could confuse the two of them. His cheeks weren’t that gaunt, and his nose wasn’t that big. Or was it? No, no, no! It definitely wasn’t. And the other Altmer’s eyes were slanted entirely the wrong way. The jaw and forehead were all wrong, too. Utterly wrong. Completely, absolutely wrong…
Before he’d risk losing his composure, Astarill forced himself to focus on the matter at hand. He turned his sword hilt around in his hand, adjusting his grip, and awaited the woman’s answer, even though he didn’t expect much of one.
“It seems I lied,” he muttered under his breath, moving his gaze up from the dead assassin to the live assassin up ahead.
Like the others, he was somewhat puzzled about the exact nature of the woman’s goals. If she was indeed a member of the Dark Brotherhood as Dust suspected, he saw no reason for her to kill a brother. Unless the Dark Brotherhood wasn’t such a tight-knit ‘family’ after all, and this journal that was supposedly stolen had caused differences of opinion. Luckily, Ath saw fit to ask her precisely what in Oblivion she thought she was doing and as such saved him the trouble.
Astarill’s eyes briefly wandered to the real source of his current problems, and he scoffed quietly to himself. The other Altmer didn’t look like him at all. People were obviously idiots if they could confuse the two of them. His cheeks weren’t that gaunt, and his nose wasn’t that big. Or was it? No, no, no! It definitely wasn’t. And the other Altmer’s eyes were slanted entirely the wrong way. The jaw and forehead were all wrong, too. Utterly wrong. Completely, absolutely wrong…
Before he’d risk losing his composure, Astarill forced himself to focus on the matter at hand. He turned his sword hilt around in his hand, adjusting his grip, and awaited the woman’s answer, even though he didn’t expect much of one.
Dakari glared at the Bosmer then eventually shrugged.
“…I am here for recovering something that has been stolen,” she admitted, “and killing some traitors.”
Well, not exactly. But it was a minor detail they didn’t need to know. Dak could see the expression of the Breton woman, the incomprehension of why she was still alive despite the stupid Tenets that were used to indoctrinate each member of the “Family”. Maybe giving them this answer would keep her quiet.
“She’s with me!” smiled happily a very healthy Lorundil. “She was the first willing to play, and I wasn’t even obliged to offer her some cheese for convincing her it would be funny! But you are not allowed to kill the others, alright? If you kill everybody, my master will be very disappointed and the game will lose its interest!” he added with a pout.
Dak rolled her eyes.
“…I don’t kill unless I’m forced to,” she answered coldly. “Unless I’m forced to,” she repeated softly to herself.
“…I am here for recovering something that has been stolen,” she admitted, “and killing some traitors.”
Well, not exactly. But it was a minor detail they didn’t need to know. Dak could see the expression of the Breton woman, the incomprehension of why she was still alive despite the stupid Tenets that were used to indoctrinate each member of the “Family”. Maybe giving them this answer would keep her quiet.
“She’s with me!” smiled happily a very healthy Lorundil. “She was the first willing to play, and I wasn’t even obliged to offer her some cheese for convincing her it would be funny! But you are not allowed to kill the others, alright? If you kill everybody, my master will be very disappointed and the game will lose its interest!” he added with a pout.
Dak rolled her eyes.
“…I don’t kill unless I’m forced to,” she answered coldly. “Unless I’m forced to,” she repeated softly to herself.
Ath looked to Lorundil. "Where is he my friend, why did he have you steal this book?" Ath was looking straight into the altmers eyes as he spoke. The bosmer had placed hands on both the atlmers cheeks to help the crazy one focus on him, and him alone for the moment. "What were his orders?" He had to know, had to figure out why it was done.
Attention flicked to Dak and snorted. "Oh yes, because you had to kill the assassin?" he asked. Granted......he was going to kill the assassin himself but why did she kill him? They were in the same brotherhood. "As for the book, your not getting it." He had no plans to turn the journal over to her, not right now and he didn't care what happened until things started to get much clearer in this matter.
He also didn't trust her to kill them all once she got the book as well so it was also out of self preservation he would do his best to keep it out of her hands. He now turned most of his attention back to Lorundil.
Attention flicked to Dak and snorted. "Oh yes, because you had to kill the assassin?" he asked. Granted......he was going to kill the assassin himself but why did she kill him? They were in the same brotherhood. "As for the book, your not getting it." He had no plans to turn the journal over to her, not right now and he didn't care what happened until things started to get much clearer in this matter.
He also didn't trust her to kill them all once she got the book as well so it was also out of self preservation he would do his best to keep it out of her hands. He now turned most of his attention back to Lorundil.
Dust listened idly to Lorundil's ranting at Ath'vesu's questioning. It all sounded almost familiar, really. She narrowed her eyes for a moment, thinking. Cheese, master, fishsticks…?
… Ah. What else could it be? Dust took a few tentative steps towards Lorundil. Or rather, who? You work in strange ways, My Lord, but I suppose anything different would be even stranger. So maybe you'd do that, too…
Dust shook her head before she got caught in another loop of thought, clearing her throat to try and catch Lorundil's attention. "Your Master - is Sheogorath, yes?" She tried to appeal to his particular 'brand' of madness. "Lord of… fishsticks? He commanded you to steal the journal?" She tilted her head, trying to meet his eyes before giving a slight curtsy and speaking briefly in Daedric, Shivering Isles dialect, a simple greeting among madfolk before switching back to Tamrielic.
"I am, too. But isn't His Lordship bored by now? You really ought to go see what else he wants, now that you've stolen the book." It was a long shot, but perhaps she could convince him to simply leave, and end this without further bloodshed. She glanced back at the dull eyes of the dead assassin and shuddered. But I doubt it.
… Ah. What else could it be? Dust took a few tentative steps towards Lorundil. Or rather, who? You work in strange ways, My Lord, but I suppose anything different would be even stranger. So maybe you'd do that, too…
Dust shook her head before she got caught in another loop of thought, clearing her throat to try and catch Lorundil's attention. "Your Master - is Sheogorath, yes?" She tried to appeal to his particular 'brand' of madness. "Lord of… fishsticks? He commanded you to steal the journal?" She tilted her head, trying to meet his eyes before giving a slight curtsy and speaking briefly in Daedric, Shivering Isles dialect, a simple greeting among madfolk before switching back to Tamrielic.
"I am, too. But isn't His Lordship bored by now? You really ought to go see what else he wants, now that you've stolen the book." It was a long shot, but perhaps she could convince him to simply leave, and end this without further bloodshed. She glanced back at the dull eyes of the dead assassin and shuddered. But I doubt it.
Astarill moved his gaze over all of those present while they spoke and he listened.
He looked at the Imperial woman, scrutinizing her. Her answer was as worthless as expected. There was no solid proof to refute it, but there were many reasons to doubt it. She wanted the journal, though, that much was evident. If she spoke the truth, there was no reason why they should be on opposite sides. And yet they were. She knew his situation. She must have realized she could help him and herself at the same time, but she killed his unwilling witness and indirectly threatened to kill him, too. It therefore stood to reason she had no intention to return the journal to the Dark Brotherhood. She therefore presented an obstacle in his attempt to prolong his existence.
He looked at the Bosmer and his mad friend, next. He assumed the Bosmer’s first concern was the preservation of his guild mate’s life. Following up on that reasoning, Ath stood only to gain if the Dark Brotherhood should find Astarill dead and in possession of the journal. Yet he seemed keen on getting his hands on the journal himself. Astarill realized this could mean two things: 1) his primary assumption was incorrect, or 2) the execution of the scenario was too risky to be profitable. He felt inclined to go with the second option, but he couldn’t be certain about the Wood Elf’s motives. All he could be certain of was that Lordundil had no need for the journal anymore. If this was indeed all a ridiculous game to please the Mad God, the game had already been set in motion, and the journal no longer had any value to a mad man.
“This is all very riveting,” Astarill eventually spoke up derisively in an attempt to focus on the key issue, “So where is the journal?”
He looked at the Imperial woman.
“You don’t have it.”
It was a statement, not a question. He glanced at Lorundil briefly.
“He hid it.”
Again, a statement.
“Three of us want it, and that makes this situation interesting in every negative aspect of the word.”
He had presented the problem, and rather like the chairman of a council meeting, now seemed to expect the other council members to throw their proposed solutions into the discussion.
He looked at the Imperial woman, scrutinizing her. Her answer was as worthless as expected. There was no solid proof to refute it, but there were many reasons to doubt it. She wanted the journal, though, that much was evident. If she spoke the truth, there was no reason why they should be on opposite sides. And yet they were. She knew his situation. She must have realized she could help him and herself at the same time, but she killed his unwilling witness and indirectly threatened to kill him, too. It therefore stood to reason she had no intention to return the journal to the Dark Brotherhood. She therefore presented an obstacle in his attempt to prolong his existence.
He looked at the Bosmer and his mad friend, next. He assumed the Bosmer’s first concern was the preservation of his guild mate’s life. Following up on that reasoning, Ath stood only to gain if the Dark Brotherhood should find Astarill dead and in possession of the journal. Yet he seemed keen on getting his hands on the journal himself. Astarill realized this could mean two things: 1) his primary assumption was incorrect, or 2) the execution of the scenario was too risky to be profitable. He felt inclined to go with the second option, but he couldn’t be certain about the Wood Elf’s motives. All he could be certain of was that Lordundil had no need for the journal anymore. If this was indeed all a ridiculous game to please the Mad God, the game had already been set in motion, and the journal no longer had any value to a mad man.
“This is all very riveting,” Astarill eventually spoke up derisively in an attempt to focus on the key issue, “So where is the journal?”
He looked at the Imperial woman.
“You don’t have it.”
It was a statement, not a question. He glanced at Lorundil briefly.
“He hid it.”
Again, a statement.
“Three of us want it, and that makes this situation interesting in every negative aspect of the word.”
He had presented the problem, and rather like the chairman of a council meeting, now seemed to expect the other council members to throw their proposed solutions into the discussion.
Lorundil looked a bit confused at Ath’vesu’s questions and smiled at the Bosmer in a somewhat patronizing way before squealing happily at Dust’s words.
“Yes, yes he did! He spoke to me from his palace of lettuces and yarn! He said it would be funny. And it is, it is!” the Altmer giggled, before frowning stubbornly at the second part of her sentence. “No no no!” he protested. “It is not done yet! The fun just began! Fish sticks,” he whimpered, “fish sticks!”
“…so he’s really mad,” muttered Dakari with a pang of relief for her own sanity before looking at the Bosmer without blinking anymore, “as you are if you think you are the one who will decides of who will get the journal at the end. Why would you?” she asked with a blank voice. “Because you are calling yourself his so-called friend? You led three members of the Dark Brotherhood to him, bringing two of them directly with you. There is nothing to boast about.” The hollow ghost of an empty smile raised one corner of her mouth. “Traitors, yes…you’re more a murderer than I have ever been.”
She looked at the other Altmer when he summarized the whole situation in a few sentences and examined his face again. It was bit unsettling, but she nodded slowly.
“…it seems we have reached a deadlock,” Dak admitted. “I would rather look for a peaceful solution. My quiver is almost empty and though there is a possibility I could kill at least one or two of you, I would die as well if we had to fight. And it would be…annoying.”
She looked around thoughtfully then tilted her head at the man. He reminded her of a hawk for some reasons. While Lorundil reminded her of some goofy turkey. So alike, yet so different...
“All I ask for is being able to look at the journal content. You can burn it afterward or use it for wiping your asses, I will not care.”
(OOC: BTW, you're totally free to make Lorundil react and act the way you want. Maybe I should have written it sooner, but he's not "my" NPC, ya know?)
“Yes, yes he did! He spoke to me from his palace of lettuces and yarn! He said it would be funny. And it is, it is!” the Altmer giggled, before frowning stubbornly at the second part of her sentence. “No no no!” he protested. “It is not done yet! The fun just began! Fish sticks,” he whimpered, “fish sticks!”
“…so he’s really mad,” muttered Dakari with a pang of relief for her own sanity before looking at the Bosmer without blinking anymore, “as you are if you think you are the one who will decides of who will get the journal at the end. Why would you?” she asked with a blank voice. “Because you are calling yourself his so-called friend? You led three members of the Dark Brotherhood to him, bringing two of them directly with you. There is nothing to boast about.” The hollow ghost of an empty smile raised one corner of her mouth. “Traitors, yes…you’re more a murderer than I have ever been.”
She looked at the other Altmer when he summarized the whole situation in a few sentences and examined his face again. It was bit unsettling, but she nodded slowly.
“…it seems we have reached a deadlock,” Dak admitted. “I would rather look for a peaceful solution. My quiver is almost empty and though there is a possibility I could kill at least one or two of you, I would die as well if we had to fight. And it would be…annoying.”
She looked around thoughtfully then tilted her head at the man. He reminded her of a hawk for some reasons. While Lorundil reminded her of some goofy turkey. So alike, yet so different...
“All I ask for is being able to look at the journal content. You can burn it afterward or use it for wiping your asses, I will not care.”
(OOC: BTW, you're totally free to make Lorundil react and act the way you want. Maybe I should have written it sooner, but he's not "my" NPC, ya know?
)
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