Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Tread Lightly (CLOSED Oblivion RP)

Ath grunted softly to Dust's words and then remained quiet. He would however move over to Lorundil and pull him over towards him and closer to the rest of the group.

"Lets just get this done as fast as we can, I don't want to be there for a long length of time." He quirked a bit of a grimace.

With that said Ath would just stand there and wait for Dust to make her spell. Though as he waited he took his bow off his shoulders and brought an arrow out of his quiver as well to hold. He was not about to arrive in some part of the shivering isles without at least his bow at the ready, and an arrow in hand ready to knock to be fired.

"Try not to land us in the mad gods palace though please." He suddenly said.

Dust listened carefully to the conversation around her, still trying very hard not to concentrate on the vibrant sunlight and the alocasia fruit growing under her window sill in Bliss…

"Okay. If we're all in agreement - and no, if all goes well, we should arrive safely at my home in Bliss," Dust addressed Ath'vesu before facing the others. "Could you all gather close? Or better yet…" She centred herself between them before closing her eyes, hands slowly joining as though in afterthought.

"Hekem…" The Daedric language burned sweet and sour on her tongue. It tasted like raspberries, today. Dust unconsciously licked her lips and continued. "Oht…"

As Dust's spell began, the others might have experienced odd feelings - first dizziness, light-headedness as though they might float helplessly away at any moment. The feeling of being furiously spun in circles, and the musty air around them becoming damp. Those sensitive to magicka might sense the opening between worlds and the tingle of Daedric works.

"Meht…" Dust's brow furrowed, muttering the words of the spell slowly and deliberately. A faint buzzing could be heard. "Ekem!"

Dust stumbled back as the last world left her forcefully, pushed out with her breath, and it was over. They were there - or at least, wherever there was. She gasped, backing away, trying to catch her breath and balance, dizzy and weak from the spell. Her back hit something distinctly fleshy. Flies buzzed idly around them, and they were calf deep in murky waters.

"Uh…" Dust glanced up, breathing hard, and blinked. A large, pale-skinned creature with a gaping mouth and beady little eyes glared imperiously down at her, snorting through flared nostrils. "Oh, fu - "

The creature screeched and slapped Dust away with a free hand, sending her tumbling into the mud before drawing a crude cleaver.

Shit, shit, shit! No magicka left, must be Dementia, where are we… Dust gasped as she struggled out of the mud that seemed to suck her feet in. "It's a grummite! This m-might be a nesting pool, watch where you - " Dust gasped as her foot popped out of a boot quickly swallowed by the mud and she barely regained balance, shuddering as her bare foot broke through a leathery shell and into the goo inside. "…Step." A foul scent rose from the destroyed egg, and two more of the creatures came running towards the smell from North of them.

Dust blinked, her imperturbable optimism momentarily shattered. She gave a quiet, bitter laugh. Well, at least it can't possibly get any worse.

(OOC: Sorry for the long post! I wanted to describe everything. And if you're interested, here's some information on the creatures our heros are battling.
http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Shivering:Grummite
I made up the bit about the eggs making a smell to attract the grummets when broken, though. If there's anything that should be changed, lemme know!)

Astarill looked down at the biscuit the Imperial woman offered him and curtly shook his head before he looked away again, making no move to take the biscuit. "I have experience with teleportation," he said gruffly. "And with your alleged seasickness, you are the one who is most likely to need it."

When Dust began her incantation, Astarill pulled his shoulders back a bit to stretch them, slightly rolled his head to stretch his neck, then directed his gaze straight ahead, and adjusted his feet to stand firmly and securely on the ground.

During the first moments of the spell, it felt as though the ground was swept away from underneath him, but he kept his stare straight in front of him and concentrated on convincing his mind that he was still standing upright. As the spell progressed, he felt forces pull and tug on his insides. Noises and smells and colours swarmed his senses. It was nauseating, but he let it wash over him and forced himself not to fight it, knowing that would only make it worse.

The assault of sensations peaked and then suddenly subsided like a wave crashing on the shore. The air became clear - or rather, as clear as it could get in what appeared to be a swamp. A foul-smelling swamp, with flies, and mud, calf-height mud.

Splendid.

The next thing he knew, Dust got thrown in the mud by a goblinoid creature of sorts, and two more of those creatures were approaching. Astarill cursed, and drew his sword, with a couple of hissed words and a wave of his free hand, he caused a wave of telekinetic force with which he knocked the nearest grummite, the one that had flung Dust, back a few yards to buy time for the others to get their bearings.

Without a word, Dakari put the other biscuit into her mouth, started to chew, and took an arrow from her quiver for nocking it at the bowstring. The Bosmer was doing the same, she noticed, and she nodded to herself. At least he wasn’t a complete fool. And his quiver was filled with more arrows than hers. No surprising, he didn’t have to clear the way through that bloody ruin for his crazy friend. I dare to hope he’ll remember it, or that Lorundil will. The Altmer was smiling absentmindedly, apparently not caring about what was happening anymore. Blessed are the poor in spirit… She hoped that ten arrows would be enough. It’d have to…

The tit eventually started her incantation. Was that Daedric? She had heard that mages used it for casting their most powerful spells, but it sounded…ridiculous, to say the least. The rest of the spell was far less laughable, though. It was hard to describe, but Dak was definitely glad to not have an empty stomach. She closed her eyes shut and forced herself to breath steadily, until an awful smell hit her nostril with the strength of a hurricane. Her head felt as if it was going to explode, her eyes seemed to have dried out completely and her stomach protested, but she slowly opened her eyes anyway.

A swamp. Go figure.

“…interesting interior decoration,” Dak commented wryly, “I heard that the mud-and-mushroom touch is in fashion this year.”

Then something that looked like a swollen putrefied goblin swooped down on the girl and pushed her into the mud before flying away.

Swooping is bad.

Two other “grummites” were approaching. Dak aimed for the flying one, drew back the string of her bow and let the arrow fly. It went right in the monster’s pale belly but, despite its obvious pain, the grummite didn’t collapse. After a few seconds, it even looked healthy again.

“…go figure,” groaned Dak while preparing an another arrow.

Ath shivered slightly to the sound of the daedric chanting that Dust was speaking. He as well noticed that Dak was doing the same as he, well at least two of them would be ready for something, he thought to himself. He really was not liking this plan but alas it was to late to do anything now.

Ath groaned slightly when he felt the world shifting, the ground spinning, his body being transported to the shivering isles. When he arrived he stumbled going to a knee in the swampy area and coughed. His stomach still felt like it was on its wild ride but he could hear things moving. The bosmer looked up in time to see Dust go down, Dak pull an arrow and release.

Ath quickly nooked an arrow and fired at the same one that Dak fired at, shooting it in the head giving the woman time to nook another arrow as he did the same standing up. He would fire an arrow into the nearest of the goblinoid creatures and backed up to keep from becoming dinner for a hungry one of them.

"Note to self, shoot spell caster if we survive." He grumbled to himself though he really didn't mean it.

(OOC: Hooray, RPR is back up! Lemme know if there's anything that needs fixing here! Autocorrect keeps wanting to change 'grummite' to 'grummet' on me!)

Dust winced as the others began to fight against the grummets, one of Dakari's arrow's seeming to slow it down for a moment before it healed again. "Th-they heal in the water!" She tried to slosh through the swampy waters, cursing as it dragged down her robes. Shit, shit, shit, why did my spell take us here!? And no magicka, I'm useless…

The first grummite roared first in annoyance as Astarill's spell forced it back, then in pain as one of Ath'vesu's arrows lodged in its head. Although the wound healed quickly from the outside, the shaft breaking off, much of the arrowhead was still embedded in its brow. Its beady eyes rolled, but it didn't fall, instead lumbering towards Astarill as the ones from the North came ever closer. Another of Ath'vesu's arrows met its mark, and one of the grummites heading towards them on dry land slowed, a roar of pain heard over the buzzing of the swamp. It seemed to have some form of intelligence, kneeling to the ground and exchanging a crude club for a bow, shooting an arrow towards Ath'vesu, who it deemed the biggest threat. The other, meanwhile, marched on towards them, using the same cleaver as the one nearest.

Dust struggled on through the mud, shouting again in hopes that the others would hear. "It's useless attacking the one in the water - it just heals - kill the first two, before they get in the water…"

She caught Ath'vesu's comment and glared, not in the mood for jokes, backing away from the grummite still in the water. "Once we kill these things, you're welcome to try."

Astarill narrowed his eyes and watched as the nearest grummite seemed to heal of the damage the Imperial woman and Ath had done to it. He turned his head briefly in Dust’s direction when she told them the creatures healed while they were in contact with water, glanced at the two approaching grummites, then nodded curtly to himself. He looked back at the nearest grummite again to see the creature lumber towards him. Instead of attacking it, he moved away from it, towards the shore. He didn’t need Dust’s second call that urged them to kill the other two first, already heading for the two grummites on land.

When he trudged out of the mud, onto solid ground, he waved his left hand and grumbled the same incantation as he had done some moments before. A low, resonating hum accompanied the swishing sound of a brief, fierce wind and Astarill’s spell knocked back the grummite that had fired an arrow at Ath, causing the creature to fall, sprawled on its back, groping around for its bow that it dropped. Raising his sword, Astarill then approached the second grummite, the one with the cleaver, ready to engage it in close combat to keep it away from the water.


(((OOC: Btw, Kir, you don’t have to burden yourself with describing what the cleaver-bearing grummite does if he attacks Astarill the next time on my turn (if it isn’t dead by then). I’ll do that myself! I know how annoying it is to have to describe all NPCs/enemies yourself. Unless you want it to do something else of course, as everyone's free to kill it or make it move away to do something else. *will stop rambling* )))

They heal in the water, had said the tit. Kill the ones of the shore, she also had ordered. Easier said than done, thought Dakari with an annoyed twitch of her mouth as she aimed for the bowmen grummite on the shore.

“…you’ll have to answer for that crap,” she said at the paddling Breton in a blunter manner than the Bosmer had. Her mood became even darker when she shot; her arrow was almost stuck into its head when a magical wind deflected the projectile and knocked the grummite over. The arrow flew away uselessly and Dak felt the taste of bile filling her mouth again, but this time out of anger. It had been a long time since she had felt this way, and it wasn’t pleasant at all.

“…watch out, you foolish mage!” she barked at the Altmer. What the hell was he thinking? That he was the only one on the battlefield? Or that her quiver really produced arrows on its own? In a blink of the eye, she was nooking a new arrow that she aimed at the second grummite. This time the arrow flew right to the monster and stuck itself deep into its skull – so deep, actually, that it blew a part of the grummite’s brain out the other side of its skull.

With a pang of satisfaction, Dak put her bow on her back and drew her knife out before heading for the “I have arrows in my body and I don’t even care” grummite.

Revenge definitely felt good.

Ath saw the grummite a little to late in raising its bow. He had been shooting at the second grummite on the land and had just looked back to the other, his arrow ready to fire, when his eyes widened and he jumped to the side as it shot at him. Not quick enough as he felt the arrow impact into his side and the bosmer hissed in pain.

When Ath hit the ground he was up in flash and drawing another arrow, despite the pain in his side, and he would shoot the one laying on the ground once more as Dak fired her arrow as well. He stepped back then, placing his hand on the crude grummite arrow that was in his flesh and he grimiced.

"Lucky bastard" He grunted before looking up to see if the others had finished off the other grummite.

Dust winced as the action became ever more violent, arrows flying and spells being cast, feeling more idiotic and useless by the moment. If she had a potion , could restore her magicka - yes! But where was her bag…?

Through the action, not far from her, she spotted a huddled shape sitting in the mud as though it were a plush chair in a parlour lounge, sorting through her bag and throwing out potions by the handful. Lorundill muttered to himself as the tossed the potions, letting them sink.

"NO!" Dust lurched through the mud before landing unceremoniously face-down, struggling for a moment through the slick, suffocating muck to weakly lift her head and stare at Lorundil, wiping the mud from her face as best she could. "My… potions…"

"Mmm?" Lorundill looked up, as unpertubed as ever, before giving a small smile. "Oh! There you are. I don't see any fishsticks or even coriander in here. Now it's almost empty, though, so we can fill it up."

Lorundill's explanation was shortly followed by Dakari's threat - Dust watched the battle for a moment, just long enough to see the Bosmer take an arrow in the side with a wince.

Okay. Afterwards. She snatched the bag from the Altmer and searched through the few potions that remained, feeling a small measure of relief as the glistening blue-ish liquid of a restore magicka potion beckoned. She popped it off and drank quickly, then watched and waited for the battle to end, so she could heal the others before…

Heal everyone, figure out what we're doing next. She thought to herself grimly, ignoring Lorundil as he began to search through the pockets of her bag. Then I can go utterly sodding mad.

Astarill snarled at the Imperial woman’s insult, then snarled again when the grummite in front of him dropped dead with the woman’s arrow through its skull. Was she blind? Had she left her mind back in Vilverin? He had that grummite secured. She should’ve focused on killing the other after he had incapacitated it to allow the two archers time to aim at it without getting shot themselves, or on driving the other grummite out of the water.

“If you hadn’t wasted your time threatening the one who brought you here on your own request, you might have had the presence of mind to see what was going on and act accordingly,” he barked back at the woman.

Bloody amateur, he thought. If this was the kind of person his life depended on, he started to think perhaps he’d have better luck facing the Dark Brotherhood.

Luckily, the Bosmer at least possessed the insight to kill the last remaining grummite on land. Now there was only the one in the water, the one the Imperial woman was now headed for with her knife drawn. Astarill scoffed and sheathed his sword. He felt very much disinclined to assist, since his help had not exactly been appreciated before. He was only a foolish mage, after all. He would do more wrong than good, wouldn’t he? Very well. He would focus on his own problems alone, from now on.

He scoffed again and walked over to Dust. He twitched an eyebrow as he looked her over momentarily. The alchemist was covered in mud from top to toe. He felt it might be a bad idea to ask if she was alright, and instead glared over to Lorundil briefly. He then turned, crossed his arms, and stood beside Dust to passively observe the battle with the last grummite from a distance.

“The spell went well,” he told Dust matter-of-factly, without sarcasm. He spoke at a normal conversational volume. His words might perhaps be audible to the Bosmer, but not to the Imperial woman, who was too far away and did not possess Elven ears. Considering the variables involved, he had to admit the spell had worked very well indeed, but he didn't say that out loud.

“…and if you had look around you before casting you spell, you would have noticed I was taking care of that grummite,” barked Dak in return. “And unlike you or your girlfriend, when I do something I do it right. Bloody amateurs.”

It was ridiculous to argue in such a situation, but it had to be said. Unless the tit lived in that swamp, her spell had been a complete failure. Her house in Bliss, seriously? Dak had heard that mud was good for the skin, but it was nothing to bliss out to.

The bowgrummite shot at the magpie, who shot back and killed it on the spot, and the hawk apparently decided that the last grummite wasn’t his fight. Dak didn’t care. The water healed the monster? She slashed her knife at the monster and forced it to step back in direction of the shore. And again. And again. And again. And again. Until the grummite eventually stumbled on the ground and the blade of the knife entered its chest right to its heart. After a few seconds, in which he managed to punch Dak in the jaw, it stopped to shake. Without blinking, Dak pulled the knife out, cleaned it on the dead monster’s loincloth, put the knife back to her belt and turned for walking back to the others, her head tilted and her jaw hurting.

“…now, what went wrong?” she asked at the tit. Not that she really cared.

Ath would find some tree that was growing in the swamp, luckily there was a good bit of dead wood here, and leans against it while watching the others and watching Dak and Astarill fight with words. He could feel his blood running down his side and he grimaced somewhat before looking down to the arrow. Yep, he was gonna be mad at someone.

Ath sighs softly and grips the arrow in his side before he decided to speak.

"Don't suppose someone has a healing potion upon there person? I sure as hell don't right now."

He muttered then barred teeth as he gritted them in expectation of the pain that was about to come to him. He broke the shaft of the arrow and then would suddenly pull the thing out with a hiss. Pain spiked through his body and he clenched his right hand, digging fingernails into his palm drawing blood. Hey, he didn't cry out so if something came to eat them it would be all on Dak and Astarill's loud voices.

"Good question though."

He mumbled to Daks question to Dust as he tore his sleeve off his arm and bunched it up to press against the wound in his side. Ether way before they moved it would have to be tended with potion, bandages, or healing magics or else he would just be a hindrance.

The spell went well. The few positive words she heard were enough to lift Dust's spirits, if only slightly. She wiped more mud from her face, watching as Dakari killed the last grummite. "Oh." She spoke rather faintly, idly pulling a leech off one of her forearms. "Thank you."

Dakari made her way towards them as Dust pulled herself out of the mud, her spirits rapidly deflating at her question.

"I don't know." I do, however, seem to remember warning you all of the dangers." She glared at the woman, trying to squelch more mud off the sleeves of her robes, before a thought occurred. They all had likely never seen he Madhouse before - for all they knew, they could be in Sheogorath's chamberpot. Might as well be, for all this shit. The thought gave her a brief flicker of a smile before she became neutral again. "We are in the Shivering Isles, at any rate - Dementia. It's just not precisely where I wanted."

Ath'vesu repeated the question as he moved towards them, and she was about to snap at him as she had Dakari before noticing his bloodied hands. "We're - you're wounded." She frowned, looking over the wound and moving closer, if he allowed it. "You shouldn't have pulled it out right away - you'd lose a lot of blood. But I can heal you, if you like." Thanks to that last potion - after that, they'd have to depend on whatever she could regenerate in time for her magic.

She knelt and, if he allowed it, first poured water from the pouch on her belt to clean his wound, then placed her hands around the it, cupping it before closing her eyes and gently reciting the incantation of a healing spell. Ath might have felt rather soothed, pain dissipating, as the wound would close. If he didn't allow her to care for the wound, Dust would look briefly offended, but not interfere further.

Astarill gritted his teeth, then opened his mouth to speak, but he changed his mind and instead drew his sword again. For a brief moment it seemed he might intend to hurt the Imperial woman.

Enough was enough, he decided. Anger flared and seemed to sear through his veins, where it eroded his patience and ground it to powder. Finding a peaceful solution was no longer worth submitting himself to the whims of the fickle, the unreliable and the bloody infuriating. His life was at stake. He really did wonder why he thought he could rely on other people to cooperate with him towards a solution that would please everyone involved. There was no relying on anyone but one’s self. He would put an end to this.
His original plan of action came to mind again, and his angry expression became neutral. The Dark Brotherhood was looking for him, so it wouldn’t be hard to find them. And when he did, he’d have something to offer them, he decided. Lorundil was a cultist of Sheogorath. Were they in Morrowind, he would be outlawed. In Cyrodiil, he was a thief, one that had apparently acted without permission of the Grey Fox. No one would miss him. No one of consequence. A small price to pay. He should have done this much sooner.

What went on inside of him never surfaced to break his now blank expression. “Thank you for your help,” he said and looked at Dust for a moment. “I apologize for wasting your time.” He then looked to the Bosmer, the only one who could give him trouble. The man was occupied with his wound. Astarill then looked at the Imperial woman. “I don’t need you.”

He walked backwards, stepping away. In an instant, he moved to Lorundil and grabbed the other Altmer by the hair. Lorundil’s eyes opened wide and he protested loudly in Daedric, proclaiming that the High Lord of Fishsticks would not tolerate this insolence. The mad man flailed his arms and scratched open the skin of his assailant’s face, near missing the left eye because Astarill barely averted his head in time.

With wild movements of his arms and frantic yelling, Lorundil began to invoke a spell. Astarill snarled, and drove his sword through the mad man’s belly and into his liver. The waving and yelling stopped after the first two words of the spell. Within the blink of an eye, Astarill pulled the blade free, moved behind his look-a-like, and delivered a forceful kick against the back of the man’s knees, meanwhile mentally repeating his anatomy studies of humanoid vertebrae to hit the right place and make what he was about to do as quick as possible: He brought his sword down, and cut off Lorundil’s head when he sank to one knee.

Blood added to the mud on his clothing, and Astarill stepped back with his look-a-like’s severed head in his hand. The decapitated body of the High Lord of Fishsticks began a slow descent into the mud. Astarill glared at the Bosmer, who he figured would like to do the same to him as he had done to his friend. Still, exchanging the enmity of a cult of assassins for the wrath of a single Bosmer was as good a deal as he could get.

He opened his mouth to speak, and then, with a three-word incantation, disappeared. He had phased out of this dimension, and had teleported to gods know where.

(((OOC: Sadly, it seems obvious that Astarill has become unmanageable in this RP, and I wanted to take him out of it. A valuable lesson learnt concerning where to play him!
So, after a thorough discussion with silver_wolf98 about the consequences, the general consensus was that Lorundil was getting annoying. I decided to take Astarill out of the story in this manner, which is as logical as I can make it under the circumstances.
I propose to bring in Nebekh after a while, who is less difficult to deal with.
For lack of the NPC who carried the plot, it seems Ath now has a new goal and that is to kill the Altmer who killed his Altmer. Silver_wolf said Ath might also develop an intense hate for the Dark Brotherhood, so perhaps he and Dakari could team up there, if a new plot device is needed. Nebekh can be easily persuaded to help.
I could also send Sanne a message to ask her to edit the topic’s title to “open” so more people might join. Shall I do that?)))

Dak didn’t react, not to the drawn sword, neither to the words and the death of Lorundil. The anger was gone and it left nothing but emptiness. She had tried to keep the turkey alive long enough for him to give her the journal, but since he had claimed that he wasn’t the one having it anymore, she had stopped to care. Hawks killed turkeys, it was the natural cycle. And with the turkey dead, the hawk had no reason to stay in that place anymore. It was natural as well.

“…the thief is dead, as asked by the Dread Father. Witnesses, never forget,” Dak simply said. Her jaw still hurt and she stroked it softly while thinking of what to do now. The journal hadn’t totally slipped though her fingers yet but she was now in a land she didn’t know and hadn’t the time (neither the will) to discover properly.

It would depend of the tit, she decided, though Dakari had no illusions on the woman’s will to go on. Or on her skills, for that matters.

(OOC: Honestly, I doubt that Dakari would agree to team up with Ath, mostly because she doesn't trust him and see no reason to associate him to her own seek of revenge. I don't say it's impossible, but it's very unlikely.)

Ath looked to Dust chuckling softly to what she said. Sure he could have left the arrow in but he rather it be out of him right this moment and he would voice this very opinion to her right now as he pressed harder upon the wound in his side.

"Id be more afraid of poison on the arrow before blood loss." He mumbled

Ath nodded to her as she asked if she could heal him. He had no problems with letting her get near him and start to wash the wound. Ath watched her before the sound of Astarill speaking would draw his attention. Ath frowned slightly to the man then blinked at the sword being drawn. Well seemed that the altmer finally had enough of Dak? But to his complete and utmost surprise the man moved behind Lorundil.

Ath went completely still then mouth opened in silent words as he saw that sword plunge into his friend. His brain couldn't comprehend what just happened for a few brief seconds then everything went into overdrive. Ath's eyes filled with rage and the need for blood as Astarill pulled back that sword. Ath pushed Dust out of the way suddenly and ran, ran for all he was worth drawing his sword as he went.

"NOOOOOOO!!!!!" He yelled in pure rage.

When the bosmer got close he leaped and using all his strength he would bring the sword down at Astarill but far to late as the mage man disappeared with his friends head. Ath landed on his feet, sword slashing into the swampy ground. His chest rose up and down fast, eyes showed white as he looked down at the corpse of his brother thief and friend.

"Lorundil........" he spoke, voice filled with pain.

What to do, what to do......no longer were thoughts bent upon that journal, no his thoughts were on nothing but Astarill and finding the man and doing ten times worse to him then what he just did to the dead man down there. Ath dropped to his knees, tears starting to fall down his cheeks and with a trembling hand he reached out to take a broach from the males clothing.

"ASTARILL I WILL KILL YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Ath yelled out suddenly in rage and he stood up turning to bore his eyes into Dust. He had met the man in her company, they seemed to be friends, and she knew how to get him back to the mainland instead of having to wander and find a way out. Aths eyes were wide, tear stained, pupils small right now and the look in them was a mixture of madness, rage, hate, sadness, and pain.....extream pain. Fingers tightened upon that sword hilt and he started to walk towards her.

"Take me to the mainland. Take me to the sanctuary. Take me to Astarill!"

Each word he spoke was in time with a foot step that brought him closer to the woman even if she was backing up. Dak was completely forgotten right now in this all encompassing feeling he had, everything but the new singular goal he now had.

Dust nodded and knelt by Ath'vesu, carefully and gently cleaning the wound of any muck that might have gotten in from the mud of the swamps. She gave a quiet, amused snort at his comment. "They do use poisons, but it still wouldn't do you any good bleeding to death to try and get rid of it. You'd attract baliwogs. No poison here, anyway." She carefully put away her water before cupping her hands around the wound, a soft, comforting light emanating from her hands as her spell would stitch the wound shut.

Astarill's voice rose, and it took her a moment to finish the spell and realized she'd been addressed. She turned to stand, frowning. "What do you mean, wasting my ti -"

Suddenly both Altmer were fighting, Astarill grabbing Lorundil by the hair, Lorundil casting scratching him. Lorundil's frantic Daedric cry of his royalty was followed by a spell. What in Sheogorath's name - !? Dust backed off before gasping as Astarill's sword drove into the madman's belly, and only a moment afterwards his head was held in Astarill's hand by the hair.

"What…" Dust blinked, staring dumbly as Astarill spoke a few words before disappearing and the High Lord of Fishsticks made his slow descent into his grave.
"What… just happened?"

The assassin spoke only a few, simple words that sent shivers down Dust's spine. Never forget. There was a cry of utter fury and Dust winced as Ath'vesu leapt towards where Astarill had once stood before mourning the loss of his friend. She cringed. He's dead - the poor thief - poor Astarill - why is it all going this way? She shuddered, then slowly froze, feeling eyes burning on her. She slowly raised her gaze to met them and shrunk at the emotion in them, backing away as the Bosmer stalked towards her, enunciating with every step that brought him closer even as she backed away.

"I…" She whispered, suddenly feeling very small as the Bosmer approached. After a moment her voice rose. "I can take you back to the mainland. Both of you." She glanced at Dakari, wondering her stake in all of this now with Lorundil gone, before turning to stare at the Bosmer. "But I won't lead you to Astarill. I don't know where he's gone any better than you." She swallowed a growing lump in her throat, remembering the pain in his eyes. "I'm… I'm sorry about your friend. I didn't… predict this, either. But…" She took another step back before forcing herself to stand still, eyeing his hand on his sword hilt. "I'll transport you home, but no further. No matter what threats you might give." She stiffened, jaw set, and watched for his reaction.

The whole reaction of the Bosmer would have owned him a trophy from the Imperial Theater Institut, thought Dakari. Coming from a man who had led the Brotherhood directly to his now deceased friend, it sounded wrong. Did he really expect that nobody would be killed…? Right, the last blow was supposed to come from an assassin, but…

“…I’m tired of that place,” she said without blinking. “It was a disappointing experience.”

It was indeed. Dak shook her head. If she left, the journal would be lost forever to both her and the Brotherhood. Maybe it was for the best, she eventually decided. Who could know, maybe that journal was contained nothing but the enamoured ramblings of one of the Sisters about Lachance? It was common in the Sanctuary, another reason why Dak usually stayed away from the place. Nothing worth being killed by random grummites in a swamp named Bliss.

Ath's eyes would blaze harder in anger at Dust's words and his fingers would tighten on his sword hilt. She wouldn't take him to the other Altmer?! Well he would see about that. Ath suddenly would raise his blade and stab it into the tree behind her, the one he had been walking her towards with his advancement. If she did not move, or strike out at him, he would lean in closer to her face. Ath's lips peeled back into a snarl then.

"You will take me to the altmer, you will help me track him down if need be or else you won't be tracking anything any more."

If it was an idle threat or not she wouldn't know, but with the way he looked it probably wasn't idle threatening. He also didn't believe that she did not know where the man was going, she was dark brotherhood and she was the mans friend it seemed so to him he figured she knew........of course he probably wasn't thinking in the right mind right now, just of anger. Dak's words drew his gaze over to the assassin and he growled out.

"Then stay in Sheogoraths accursed realm for all I care, if your not going to help then stay the hell out of my way or I will cut you down as well!"

Yes, yes the bosmer was very very angry it seemed. His anger turned back to the woman he was in front of, assuming she had not taken the time to move while his attentions were else ware. Her words of her being sorry only helped to stoke the fire in him for a reason he wasn't sure why.

"I doubt you really are sorry, but take us back now and then take me to him."

He snarled and ripped his sword out of the swamp tree stepping back and waiting for her to utter her spell on them. If the assassin lady wanted to come she could, if she didn't she could stay here then or go off somewhere else when they got back.

((If need to change anything let meh know!))