In the mountains north of Bruma a Nord fighter, Fygge Ropemuscles, has a motley collection of mercenaries camped beside a small stream. Interestingly, considering Fygge is a bad-tempered, one-eyed, drunkard, some of his mercenaries are seen to be wearing the very fine hand-crafted armour associated with Paladin Knights.

Once you have made your first post please interact with others who join up until you are advised of your departure time to the front. This will not be for a day or two as each leader will want to teleport a group rather than individuals. Teleporting forces one by one could be too dangerous. Who knows what they will be facing? If you are there alone, have a look round and describe (as you see it) the tavern, the abbey ruin or the mountain scenery.

The story picks up from where it was left in the original thread.

ooc: Completely ignoring 18169's absurd post, the fight is NOT ended in one post.


Odd, choice, playing my way, Aleksi thought as Ice stepped back to lunge with the greatsword. Though only a shield could stop the blow head-on, Ice's choice of a thrust over a slash made it much easier to parry. Moving with expert reflexes, Aleksi stepped aside, catching the greatsword with his dagger and pushing it clear. With Ice a bit off-balance from the thrust, he whipped the rapier around and smacked Ice's leg with the flat side of the blade.

"Rule number one," he said as he lowered his sword, "don't overextend. Especially without a shield. It won't do you much good to kill your enemy if he runs a foot of steel through your gut in the process. Rule number two..."

His voice cut off as the strange events began to happen. Fortunately, standing on the edge of the camp, he was spared the worst of the rain of blood, but that hardly lessened its impact. Aleksi's expression turned to a mixture of surprise and disgust, then more than a little fear as he was frozen in place. But that digust faded quickly, forced to the back of his mind. Blood and strange magic were nothing new, he'd seen plenty of people killed in plenty of brutal ways over the years, and paying too much attention to it would be a good way to join them.

Damn, not good at all... he thought, wishing he'd brought a few allies. The odds were badly against the mercenaries... atronachs would cut through the ranks of the inexperienced mercenaries as easily as a farmer's scythe through grain. With so few skilled fighters in the camp, even a victory would come at a high price.

Finally, the paralysis lifted. "Right, rule number two. When in doubt, cheat." As he said this, he matched actions to words. A brief wave of one hand, and he disappered from sight completely.

Bruma, Fygge's Camp.

They didn’t seem to having been able to agree on how to distribute the time available at the camp, now that Fygge was gone and noone was in charge. Ulf had agreed well with the pleasant and wellspoken altmer Garrick, whom albeit having a strange name for an altmer nevertheless seemed to have the calm perspective on things that altmer are famous for, despite their occasional condescending attitude.
Having rested a bit, smalltalked and eaten some more of course, Ulf had decided to forage the countryside for useful ingredients; Fygge had said the area would have aplenty, but nords usually do not know a plant from a deers arse. Ulf chuckled to himself and let his eyes wander on the ground around him.

Going back from a very succesful foraging adventure, bringing enough ingredients not only for himself, but for anyone in need; heck he could even open up a small shop! The blind khajit looked as if he could use some magic potions and what about Garrick, he said something about needing a bit of mending herbs. Considering the bit o’ rash types in the camp, several people might soon need that.
First and foremost Ulf used his alchemistical skills to restore his depleted magical reserves. He had felt rockbottom for a long time, the curse of being “An Atronach” of birth. More than one curse came with that. Ulf shuddered.

Reaching his old tracks near the camp he heard strange noices from there. Not the clashes of swords and shields he was expecting, but unfamiliar voices and sounds and... silence. Just before reaching a little hill before the camp, the rattling of metal gear and shouting was back; maybe just a rest before practice had continued he thought. On the hill Ulf saw no practice and no ordinary drill, but atronachs from beyond and... and blood and guts EVERYWHERE! Some were getting ready for battle, some seemed to dissapear, chaos enfolds.

Preparing his staff Ulf thought of how he could best aid this unusual party, which was now his comrades; oddly whether he would previously have hated the thought or not. What is happening to me?

“Fellows run, leave yer stuff and run up here!”, Ulf boomed out over the camp area trying to get their attention. Most of them were in between him and the atronachs. Acting desperately he hurled a ball of ice towards the area behind the lesser but deadly deadras, hoping his aim was carefully enough not to hit anyone; the levitated position should help.

(ooc: not entirely sure this fits with other peoples timelines.. I was working on it today, but had to work and don't have much time altogether. If it's out of bounds, please tell me.. I am entirely new to this way of RP.)

ooc: same as Pere, I would have posted earlier but glad I didn't now

Kane continued to stay neutral within this battle, he seemed to be ignored rather than everyone listening to him and common sense, the atronachs are creatures that obey orders, if they were to attack they would have done so by now, from this Kane knew the atronachs would be harmless until provoked, very much like himself but Kane also knew if he couldn't get the others to realise this then their so called mission to save what's left of Cyrodiil will fall to pieces...Kane sighs heavily, he didn't want to act as a referee in this situation but if it kept his "team mates" safe for the time being, he was prepared to do anything, slowly he draws his daedric claymore...instantly placing it horizontally infront of Ismail while glancing towards the Altmer behind him...the atronachs behind him gave confused and puzzled looks yet before anyone could protest, Kane gave his reasons

"You do realise Atronachs are defence based daedra...they obey orders and their orders are to stand guard...you attack now, you destroy any hope of even making it to the rift, nevermind saving anyone...if you are willing to attack then so be it, I don't need to be in a group that will run suicide missions...if you listen to me and wait...the atronachs won't attack...that doesn't mean we let our guard down, just means we wait for them to make the first move"

The pair look at each other then back at Kane with a look of 'we don't believe you'...Kane slowly shakes his head, if he didn't look like an Imperial most people would come to the conclusion he was an atronach in disguise...eventually he lifts the claymore and stands out the way, walking away from the atronachs and his supposed to be allies...Kane had an attitude of simply, if you don't listen once then he isn't going to say I told you so, he already thought the fact he has daedric equipment would give off the signal that he knows how to fight daedra, yet unfortunatly no one seemed to care.

Kane finds a tree, away from the ruckus yet not too far incase he is actually needed to act, there he simply sits down and checks all his equipment, to someone it could seem he didn't care yet if no one is willing to listen then he infact doesn't care since so far all that have collected within Kane's eyes are after fame, glory and money...but for him the haunting fact that his family still reside in Cyrodiil lingers over him and no matter how much he would like to slice through every daedra possible, he had to have a clear head since he would no doubt be the one bailing most people out.

OOC: my long work hour days are going to suck for me to post here lol.

Dur-Colath seeing Aleksi and Ice have decided to spar amongst themselves instead of working on how to be a team, figured he will have to think of something to get everyone to work as a team. 'Figures, if I have to I'll be team leader, but I really dont want to, being team leader useally means dieing first' even as he finishes that thought Xristo makes his announcement to leave the camp. ' I dont blame him its chaos here right now, but that can be fixed'

Ans as he is finishing THAT thought a Orc and two Nords show up. and state "Does Mehrunes Dagon believe he can stop us with MINIONS?" and take that moment to blow up!! Dur-Colath only wishes his mouth hadn't been open when that happend. And hated haveing dirty Orc parts in his mouth even less when he found out he couldn't move!!!! 'THIS IS WHY I HATE IT WHEN GODS ARE INVOLVED!!' As what was a Orc launches a attack on Fygge what had been Nords take up defencive postions 'They look like Atronachs' a cloud of snow and dirt cloud the two fighters as they fight to kill each other, and then Fygge and the What-ever-it-is vanish! 'thats not good.' Dur-Colath thinks and feels his joints start to not feel as if he is pinned.

As he spits out the Orc parts in his mouth he sees the two Atronachs look at each other and seem to echo his thoughts. Dur-Colath screams " hold!!! Dont attack yet!! Let them make the first move, Then respond as a team!!!" as he says this he barely hears Kane's words. 'Thank god someone is thinking other then me!' Then he sees Aleksi vanish ' male without a father, he is either running or attacking, either way he's dead once he reapears'

Then he sees the ice ball fly towards the Atronachs " Oh no"

Aldhelm quietly crawled out of the ancestral tomb and began to lope quickly across the darkened plains. He was yearning for a new victim. The scrawny deer he had fed upon last night was already gone and he needed more essence badly. He was fully prepared to stalk until he had some more lasting food. And then he heard the voices in the distance. He had found his next meal! He soon got closer to the voices and quickly activated the enchantment in his most prized piece of armor, his left Daedric pauldron. The Chameleon concealment he had inscribed would keep him out of sight until it was far too late for the foolish travelers to save themselves. After activating the enchantment, he moved in closer to see the sources of the voices.

The voices turned to be coming from some rather overweight Breton merchants, making their way slowly down the road, leading some mules loaded down with various wares behind them. They were speaking in loud, boisterous voices about how much more armor they had been selling since the rumors of the rifts opening had begun to start and people had panicked. They both found this quite enjoyable and were laughing uproariously when one merchant turned the other and unknowingly saved his life, “If the rift to Oblivion opening in Cyrrodil makes me a rich man, then I welcome it with open arms!” Aldhelm had stopped listening to their babble and simply stood mesmerized in his own thoughts and memories.

He had felt the shifting and longings of the higher planes’ beings growing stronger for some time and it had considerably lessened over the last few days. He had felt these yearnings ever since the day of his rebirth. When he had awakened to find a demon slaying his family and the same demon had attempted to drain his soul, and the Dunmer ancestors had given him a small scrap of soul back. Enough to keep him tied to the mortal planes and give him unholy strength and make him fear the deathly embrace of sunlight. They had increased his senses and made him shun the company of others. The senses of higher planes had become more developed over the centuries, detecting more and more activity.

However, normally these yearnings came to naught, the beings always unable to break through the protective magic around Cyrrodil. Normally, Aldhelm himself was uninterested in both the affairs of these beings of power and the affairs of mortals. However, for the first time in eons, he was yearning for activity, something to make his essence grow and develop. A lack of companions had made information a rare commodity and Aldhelm gained more following the traders. He learned that recently a friend of the trader’s had gone to a mercenary camp in the mountains run by Fygge Ropemuscles and had been accepted with the minimum of questions being asked.

Having the information he desired, Aldhelm faded back into the shadows. He traveled by night, feeding on captured game, and during his travels collected the more exact location of the camp from hopefuls traveling there in search of riches.

When he arrived at the camp it was nearly dawn, so he quickly found a cave in the nearby mountains and waited for the next night to fall. Upon the arrival of the next night, he donned a Dark Brotherhood full helm to hide his white eyes and other unnatural features. When he approached the camp, he saw a hive of activity and soon lost himself in the crowd of people looking for Fygge.

I hope its not too late to join in is it? I just got the email

A firm and focused figure strolls through the crowded camp, his almost white metal armor an intensifying orange in the gathering sunset. On seeing his gait and the way his arms will not rest by his sides, one knows he is muscle from head to toe, this despite not an inch of skin showing beneath the unusual and obviously battle worn plate mail. Ransom, an increasingly revered independent knight, has never actually been seen in the flesh, so it is assumed by his moderate charisma and medium stature that he is an Imperial. That he is actually a Bosmer, is a secret that he guards at all cost.
With much admiration those who have seen him in battle remark on his skill with a bow. How lithe and agile he is, particularly in what is assumed to be heavy plate. His long sword skills do not attain the same level of attention despite their very high quality, I suppose it is simply assumed that an imperial knight will be a first class swordsman. His friendly and kind manner, and skilled healing ability, have ensured that anyone who has served with him on or off the field remembers him with fondness and respect. It is rumored that his armor was a prize of battle when he fought and killed the Vampiric Lord Razmir El Razeme. While this is true he hides the true nature of this one-of-a-kind amour, that it is as light as Chitin, but as strong and protective as steel.
He and his wood elf page Eldil are never seen together, and while one might wonder at this, the fact is that most will not think twice about a Bosmer - even one of his large stature. Of course they are one and the same! Who in their right mind would ever even contemplate that an unattractive (even by Bosmer standards), wood elf in their early twenties, with disheveled clothes and unkempt nondescript brown hair, could ever be a charismatic and skilled imperial knight. Eldil allows Ransom some anonymity and the opportunity to use some of his naturally Bosmer talents. Though not well honed by a master thief or rangers' standards, he can sneak, pick a lock, unsnare a trap, or shimmy up a drain pipe well enough to get the job done, should the need arise.

A ruckus erupts in a distant portion of the camp, Rasom turns to the direction of the commotion to see an unholy sea of red above the screaming throng. His height amongst the Orcs and Dunmer that surrounded him allowed only a brief glimpse of this eerie mix of blood and magic, but it was enough for him to know that his considerable healing skills were about to come to great use.

It had been a long past few days filled with nothing but what seemed like endless travel. Moon nor sun appeared to set him any closer to his goal, if he had one. He left the last small town, just of what name escaped him, with at least some idea of his next destination but thinking back at his choice it seemed unclear. He was a wanderer after all, never staying in one place long, afraid of settling for fear of what leaving again might one day cost him.

He traveled light, not by choice or by trade but by means, he owned nothing save the clothes he wore covered by his old tattered furlined cape. No visible means of self defense, armor nor weapon, could be seen on his person, no sheath peaking from the edge of his cape, no dagger hilt from his worn dust covered boot. To look upon him, his hood pulled over his eyes and upper face to keep out the chill of cool air, one would think him a poor beggar, perhaps a once power or well off fighter in a prominent guild in some bejeweled capital, no one would ever know.

Pausing for a moment at a thin stream passing through the valley he removed his hood to drink and wash his face. His face was fair, some would surely name him handsome, but his fair face was marked with unnatural age and weathered beyond what his age could imaginably be. His hair was not too short but not long, stark white in color, adding to his appearance of unnatural age, and untamed upon his head no matter how much he might attempt to train it. Down his left eye and cheek he wore a thin but plainly notable scar that seemed to have a hint of silver in it as the falling sunlight touched it.

He took up a few more handfuls of chilly water and ran his hands through his impossible hair, why he didnt know it was merely habit, and filled his aging water skin. He looked toward the sky seeking to determine the hours of daylight left before night would set in. With a sigh he tucked his water skin away and set off keeping the stream to his left.



On he wandered. Keeping the ever widening stream to his left he plodded along. Soon his ears detected the faint sounds of what seemed to him to be yelling of orders and the scuffled sounds of battle. Quickening his pace he crested a hill overlooking a small encampment of what appeared to be fighters of all mixed races and breeds. He cleared the crest just as an orc and two nords, clearly out of place amongst this group, demanded to speak with someone whos name he couldnt completely understand. He stopped in his tracks seeing what would happen if a leader, either the name they sought or not, should appear.

Out of thin air a hulking nord appeared and bellowed something at the orc. Far too fast for words the orc and two accompanying nords exploded into a shower of gore covering the better part of the encampment. Demons stood where they had just and he had no doubt in his mind as to where they spawned...

"...Daedra..." he whispered.

Everyone below seemed frozen in time as what had formly been an orc disappeared completely taking the hulking nord with him. The two remaining stood their ground but did not attack. The group in the encampment seemed stretched far too thin and far too outranked to tackle the two should it come to that. One man was trying to stay some of the others from foolishly attacking and another had taken a sitting position near a tree slightly away from the immediate conflict.

Without a further thought he rushed down the hillside and into the clearing the encampment set within.

"What in the name of all the gods is happening here!?" he questioned loudly as he caught up to the others.

[ooc]I didnt want to come in on the battle but I may as well. This char knows nothing of the gateways to oblivion or the 3 leaders of the groups or anything really. Hes been out of touch with newskeeping civilization for sometime now.[/ooc]

Aldhelm soon realizes that NO ONE is looking at him, instead all of the attention in the camp is directed towards the two atronachs who have began to attack everyone in the camp. Eager to feast on their high eneregy essences once they have been defeated, Aldhelm steps forward , pulls out his two Ebony daggers, but is unaware of how to begin.

(First RPG like this I've ever done can someone tell me how to be correct when enetering the battle? Any help is appreciated. Thank you.)

Knowing that the spell flying towards the atronachs would incite them into a rage, Ice raised his blade and intercepted the spell. "That's ENOUGH!" He shouts to the many warriors watching the atronachs. "It is easily apparent that the foes we will be dealiing with in this endeavor are far more capable than your common Nix Hound, and so working as a team is no longer sufficient to survive, it is necessary to survive. Thus bickering and judging others will get us nowhere but to an early grave. Until we truly know each others' strengths and weaknesses, we cannot judge whether or not each of us is useful in a given situation. Now, as for these atronachs, while they may be defensive in nature, their master is obviously gone, so it is only a matter of time before they go on the offensive. We must be ready to meet them when that time comes, so I strongly suggest we stop placing ourselves above others and work as a team to end this immediate threat." He pauses a moment before concluding: "now if one of you has a better suggestion, let's hear it."

As Ransom makes his way toward the commotion, he comes across a Dunmer, standing shocked, as if looking inside himself not at the spectacle in front of him. "Kind friend, with your height advantage perhaps you could tell me what it is that so holds everyones attention? For although I am sure that magic and blood are involved you Dunmer, and the Orcs some what obscure the vision of us of average height!" Ransom says as puts a hand up on the shoulder of Aldhelm. Suddenly he feels an urgency in the situation and without waiting for a responce he surges forward through the crowd, calling over his shoulder "I am Ransom by the way, are you coming?".

Safe under cover of his invisibility spell, Aleksi circled around the camp to flank the atronachs. The calls for organization gave him some hope for the mercenaries, but he had no time to join them. Calm before the storm, he thought, as he took position in the trees on the edge of the camp. Their brief moment of peace could only be the calm before the storm, after such a dramatic introduction, the invaders could hardly be looking for peaceful negotiation. And Aleksi was all too familiar with the value of ranged fire, his leadership might be missed in preparing the front lines, but flanking fire would be critical in keeping the atronachs off balance and pinned down.

By the time the invisibility spell had worn off, Aleksi had reached safe cover, with a good view of the entire camp. Pulling his cloak tighter to stay out of sight, he drew an arrow and lined up a shot on one of the atronachs, ready to fire as soon as necessary.

When he reaches the front of the crowd Ransom is taken aback. Those near the incident are painted with the blood of the those who once where Orc and Nord. Some wipe blood soaked faces with blood soaked hands, some spit out unfortunately directed chucks of flesh. While others shout orders;

"defense based Daedra...wait for them to make the first move",

"hold!!! Don't attack yet!!",

somewhere in the distance he hears“Fellows run, leave yer stuff and run up here!”,

and closer "That's ENOUGH!...work as a team...".

Then beside Ransom a very unassuming, no plain and common looking figure says with surprising force "What in the name of all the gods is happening here!?"

Ransom speaks quietly to raggedy man. "Well it appears that we have our selves somewhat of a situation. The general consensus seams to be that we wait, draw together, organize, and see what skills each of us has, when we undoubtedly end up fighting these wretched beings. While I am no leader I think any organization ought to be done in a hurry as I expect that the fighting is likely to happen sooner rather than later!... Excuse my rudeness: I am Ransom and you are...."

[OOC: Ixnos, I would be very pleased if you stopped making decisions for my character and I think that goes for Ismail and the Atronachs too.]

"Luckily, your words make such perfect sense, sir warrior, seeing as how these Atronachs came walking into our camp, obviously with defensive reasons in mind," Garrick spat at the Imperial in his strange armor. "Perhaps if you find it easier to do nothing, than you should find a nice place to retire to and stay there. I have seen enough innocent blood shed to know that complacency around evil is as bad as actually committing evil."
Then the Imperial moved away and Garrick shook his head, "This is the first time I've ever seen an Imperial back off from a discussion and a fight at the same time. If you are so confident about your greatness, why not do us all a favor and take out these creatures for us? Or for the good of Tamriel, if that is more you thing. Unless you are afraid to get stains on your fancy sword. Pardon me, I mean your fancy crowd control stick!"

Who is this character? Garrick thought furiously, as he glared at Kane's back. What person just up and leaves after trying to come off as a great warrior and whatnot? I hope I'll never turn out that way: leaving others to fend for themselves in their plight. Hell, if that really is Daedric weaponry, why doesn't he use it in Azura's name?

[OOC : sorry i only just read the email that announced this and i wanted to join ><, i am an amatuer at this too so i hope everyone can be accepting of me if i screwup, i have read the rules carefully so hopefully that wont happen...]

Maximo, an Imperial of strong arms and faith had heard of the turmoil in effect. Standing at approximately 6foot with a long black ponytail and sharp facial features, he had a very 'uncyrodillic' appearance but nonetheless he was proud of his lineage. He was a well built man of middle age with many years of combat experience behind him, a Paladin in fact, although he left his Order some time ago, he still strongly believes in his duty to defend the helpless and purify the evil that he encounters while perhaps not being as zealous as his fellow brothers are known to be. Deciding not to encumber himself with full plate, he chose a lighter mail hauberk with enchantments affecting his physical agility, giving him elf-like reflexes. With one hand over his shoulder gently touching the pommel of his trusty claymore ; he decided to advance carefully, a suprise entrance may tip the fight in the favor of the mercenaries. He was close enough to be heard if he chose to speak, but he crept closer to the scene, stopping to spiritually survey the situation.

Using his fine attunement with the forces of Mysticism, Maximo could sense an uneasiness amongst the defenders, as if there were a disagreement between the warriors. Perhaps this was a misreading, but he was usually right. The metallic smell of blood was already in the air, lives had already been lost. Frowning to himself Maximo decided it was time to reveal himself to the team of warriors. Raising his sword and resting it on his pauldron, he slowly walked upto the team announcing himself.
"Hail friends, I sensed the plight and knew I could be of help, and I think it is best that we all work together under leadership, I am willing to devote myself to all of you as a group and I promise to keep my eye on all of you, and help you make the right moves to survive. That is of course, unless anybody has an objection?"

Despite the strong urge to throw up, Wulfgar realized quickly that his question would receive no answer. Unable to take in exactly what was being said, he only noticed the increasing unrest around him and that several people were shouting at each other in what did not seem to be the most friendly tone that could be chosen.
Wulfgar swallowed, hoping to fight the feeling of sickness successfully. While there was little hope that his nausea would vanish, seeing the carnage all around the camp, at least the convulsions in the area of his stomach had stopped.
Unable to focus his attention on anything else than regaining control of his own body, Wulfgar was dimly aware that soon a battle with these creatures would begin. Gathering all his strength, he slowly stood up, legs shaking. Forcing his arms to move, he unhinged his axe from his belt.

Please see RPG update 5 in the relevant thread.

Ismail felt strong and self-confident as someone touched his shoulder from behind. He was also satisfied that someone decided to support him. But generally, he was very disappointed with the way group acted. He thought that they would back him up, but most of them were stunned or run away. Just a couple of them were ready to attack the atronachs.

"We are working perfectly as a group. A group of cowards!" - Ismail said more to himself then to a group of mercenaries surrounding him. "This is a perfect chance to test our skills and team work. If this little army of ours can't handle two Deadra, we better just leave this place right now, go back home and start with farming." - He said. "We have already outnumbered them, and we should take them prisoners or kill them. Who knows what awaits us in a rift. Maybe this is just an introduction to what we're going to experience. And you have already crapped your pants".

Ismail was still in his guard, waiting to see what atronachs would do. Will they attack, surrender, or run away?

Since the day he was born, Sesmar had been traveling with his parents from one town to the next. His parents were merchants, always moving, never stopping in one place for to long and always saying that they did not want wear out their welcome. Sesmar never really understood what this meant, but he did not mind the traveling; actually he rather enjoyed being able to see different parts of the world, meeting different people, learning about the different races and how they interacted with each other in different situations. As far as Sesmar was concerned, life was good; however, unbeknownst to Sesmar this is not the way things would always be for him.

When Sesmar was nearly 10 years of age he was traveling with his parents to a new up-and-coming town they had heard about from fellow merchants. During their journey one evening, just as they were about to make camp, they came upon a band of orcs. After watching his father brutally murdered and a worse fate befall his mother, the orcs left Sesmar beaten and broken lying in the middle of the dusty road to die. As Sesmar lay there, drifting into unconsciousness, not completely understanding the events that had just transpired before his eyes, he wished for death. The last thing Sesmar remembered right before his eyes closed was a lightly robed man kneeling down beside him and the man’s callused yet gentle hands touching his face.

When Sesmar awoke he was lying in a bed, not entirely sure of how he arrived there. Sesmar slowly sat up smelling the sweat smell of honey mixed with a hint of the bitter herbs used in alchemy. Looking around Sesmar saw that he was in a small room just big enough to fit a small bed and dresser. On the wall opposite the dresser there sat a lit candle on a shelf about four feet off the ground. A few minutes after he woke up, Sesmar heard foot steps outside the door and then he saw the door open and a man, who in someway seemed familiar to Sesmar, stepped in. From speaking with this man he learned how he came to be where he was, what this place was and this also helped him to recall the tragic events that took place only a few nights before.

After the painful memories came flooding back to him Sesmar requested to be left alone while he thought about what he must do now. After what seemed like an eternity to Sesmar, he finally reached a decision, partially based on the fact that he was only 10 and did not really know how he would make it on his own he decided to stay here, at the monastery he would join the brotherhood and become part of the Order of the Mantis. Over the next few years Sesmar was trained in the ways of the brotherhood. Learning to live off the land, to appreciate all forms of life above anything else, as well as how to defend him self should the need ever arise, for even the brotherhood knew that it is foolish to think that no harm will come to those that do not harm others. Over the years Sesmar lived a peaceful life, farming the lands, and studying a great deal on the subject of Alchemy, all this while becoming a master in hand-to-hand combat, proficient with a staff and an expert marksman. Twenty years had passed since the orcs had left Sesmar for dead and twenty years Sesmar had lived a peaceful life when word finally traveled to the monastery of the recent events taking place in Cyrodiil and the evil that has been pouring into the world from the newly formed rifts leading to Oblivian.

Sesmar being of Nordic heritage and feeling the Nordic blood coursing through his veins could not sit back idly and let this evil spread like a plague throughout the world he cared so much for. It was at this time that he decided that he would seek out this Fygge Ropemuscles that he had heard was assembling a band of mercenaries and other warriors in the mountains north of Bruma. Taking with him only what he needed to survive, Sesmar, with the blessing of the head of his Order, set out on his long journey to Cyrodiil, not for money, or for fame and glory, these things meant little to him. Sesmar simply wanted to prevent other children from having to experience the same thing he did twenty years ago.

Ransom senses in the new comer to the group the valor and peace of a fellow Paladin, though like himself he feels the slight shades of gray that the higher orders shun.

Is this another Paladin that walks the path alone, or perhaps he belongs to an order unlike the strict one in which I studied. A shudder runs up Ransoms back with this thought, the past is not something he liked to recall. Although he had been well accepted (as a Bosmer even) in his order, and really had enjoyed his place and the strict life that went with it, the circumstances of his leaving would bother him the rest of his days.
No I will get through this pain, I will over come my fear, and regardless, I sense this is a man whom I can well trust. After a few deep breaths and moments meditation, the feelings pass and he gathers his emotions once more and focuses his mind. He determines that when it is his turn be teleported, the Paladin(Maximo) who has offered his leadership will be amongst his companions.

*Whoosh*

The Atronachs are gone and an empty bloodied array of body parts and shredded armor are all that fill the hole in the crowd. Well I won't need to heal anyone after all he thinks.

*Whoosh*

Fygge appears where the Atronachs had been, and proceeds with a little speech, then retires. Ransom stands firm, he has not so much as shifted his weight since arriving beside the nondescript figure with the hood. He turns to face the man and repeats his question, "Greetings, I am Ransom, and you are...".

After weeks of traveling through unknown lands Sesmar’s eyes had finally come to rest on the great white snow-capped peaks of the mountains to the north of Bruma, feeling a great sense of relief run through his body, he scanned the valley ahead for any sign of Fygge and his band of mercenaries. It did not take him long to spot what seemed to be his destination. From this distance it looked to be a large group of people gathered around several tents on the top of, what seemed to be, a small hill in comparison to the mountains all around. Even though the journey had been a long and difficult one Sesmar had thoroughly enjoyed every little bit of it as it reminded him of times long past when he used to travel with his parents. As Sesmar walked towards the camp he took a little bit of time to take in the beautiful scenery that was all around him. The beautiful rolling hills covered in a vast array of wonderful flowers and plants, the diverse assortment of trees covering the mountain sides, to the setting sun which shined off the whites peaks of the mountains giving them a faint orange glow.

As Sesmar neared the camp he was starting to realize that things were not as they should be. He could not make it out for sure, but to him, it looked as if there was blood on the ground and covering some of the mercenaries. On top of this he thought he could make out the pungent smell of death floating towards him on the breeze. Upon entering the camp Sesmar suddenly realized how out of place he must look. While most of the others were all dressed in some of the most wonderfully crafted armor he had ever seen he simply wore the dull green robes of his order covered by a heavy traveling cloak. His feet padded by a thin layer of leather held in place by intricately laced cured silk wraps, his shins and forearms wrapped in much the same way beneath his robes. Besides the clothes on his back he carried a small traveling pack slung over his right shoulder, in which he carried a minimal amount of supplies, across his back was his long bow accompanied by a full quiver of arrows and lastly in his left hand he carried a staff that was almost as long as he is tall. The staff, at first glance, did not look to be anything special, standard issue to the brotherhood, crafted of ashen wood and fire hardened; however, it was unusually smooth to the touch and as was the custom of the Order of the Mantis, it had been blessed by the head of the Order. Now that Sesmar had reached the camp he was able see that there was indeed blood covering the ground and some of the mercenaries; however, this only raised more questions in his mind.

“First thing first”, he thought, “I need to find out what happened.” and he figured the best person to get information from would be Fygge. Walking up to the first person he came to, a Bosmer with blonde hair wearing a green cloak over what looked to be armor made of glass. Stepping up to the Bosmer, Sesmar politely bowed and said “Excuse me Sir, I am Sesmar Alaharnok, I have traveled a long and difficult path in search of the mercenaries forming under the leadership of Fygge Ropemuscles. I am weary from my travels and wish to speak with Fygge before resting my body and soul. Any information as to where I might be able to find this man would be much appreciated.”

Wulfgar was perplexed. As quickly as the three fighters had covered the camp in organic debris and Fygge had vanished together with the leader of the group, the atronachs had disappeared and Fygge had appeared out of nowhere again and given a short speech to the bystanders.
Fygge's words were only slowly sinking in, and Wulfgar was not yet able to fully comprehend their meaning. While his ears perceived the sound clearly, his mind was simply overwhelmed by all the events that happened in such a short period of time.
Still aware of the carnage around and on his body, Wulfgar decided that he should seek for some possiblity to wash himself. Whatever the others might think, he was in no state to start a conversation just yet. Maybe a bit quietness and some cool, fresh water would help him gather his senses again.
After fastening his axe to his belt again, he started strolling around the camp to find the brook, lake or river which was bound to be found nearby.

But but, why are people just leaving calmly, some even dissappearing while others seem stunned and unable to fight back against these terrors, Ulf had thought to himself while frantically been trying to comprehend what was happening in the camp. Obviously people had already been killed, considering all the blood and gore covering the entire clearing and most of the bystanders...
Noone had run towards his - to him - believed safespot on the little hill, why? Ulf had forced himself onwards towards the mayhem utterly confused and worried that maybe his ball of frost would not have the intended effect; not to hurt anyone but to bewilder the atronachs and create enough confusion for people to escape them hopefully alive. He may be old, but his aim had always been aim (in some cases even too good).
Suddenly the argonian warrior Ice-blood had moved towards the powerfull ball in an attempt to – hinder it? With his sword of incredible size, he had tried to block its path. “Don’t be a fool!” Is he in league with the atronachs?

The ball of frost smashed into the ebony sword with great power hurling Ice-bloods arm, sword, and upper body down towards the ground; altering the balls trajectory upwards in almost the same direction. “Uh oh, I hope he is alright – be he on our side... the frost must have hurt his hand and arm”. Following the ball with his eyes while steadily increasing his pace, he fortunately witnessed it crash into the canopies of two trees, causing large amounts of snow and splintered wood to rain down on the ... now, where did they go? The atronachs had suddenly dissappeared too! “But... I saw them... they were there!”, he stammered to himself, “weren’t they..?”. At least his frostball did not hurt anyone, it might aswell have had with the foolish actions of that argonian.

“Are you out of your mind youngin?”, Ulf called out to Ice-blood, “...or are you in league with those foul beasts of the beyond I just saw?” - he sounded a bit insecure in his voice on the latter part.

Seeing the young nord Wulfgar covered in blood made Ulf alter course and go from being angry to worrying about this fellow, who hadn’t looked right at home among these men from the start. He reminded Ulf of himself, of what he was or could have been. “Wulfgar, let me aid you, where are you hurt?” Readying herbs with one hand and of course producing his skin of potent non-watery substance with the other (not for Wulfgar but for himself) he continued: “Are you alright, Wulfgar... what happened?”
Eyeing everyone around the camp in an attempt to produce an answer himself, Fygge suddenly appeared, looking ruffled but determined and ... wielding a staff of sorts how peculiar, he spoke about a fight noone here had any part in nor could affect it seemed. But what should I have done? Did I act wrong? Were the atronachs not here on evil intent? Ulf’s thought raced around in his head until focus returned to Wulfgar. “Let me have a look at you laddie”, offering the skin to Wulfgar, he awaited a response. Where is Garrick?

Wulfgar stopped when he heard someone speak his name right next to him. Looking up, he saw another Nord in front of him. Since he was offering a waterskin to Wulfgar, he judged that the Nord did not pose a threat. The Nord's worried eyes reassured him of the assessment.
Wulfgar raised his hands in denial of the waterskin - whatever was inside, his stomach would not be able to contain it.
Slowly it dawned on him that the Nord was expecting an answer to a question - Wulfgar tried to recapitulate the words he had only perceived uncounsciously.
"I'm ... it's nothing ... I'm ...alright ... not my blood ... there were ... three of them, calling for Fygge, then they ... exploded..."
His stomach clenched again, but he was able to suppress his urge to throw up.
"...suddenly only those two ... creatures ... didn't move ... vanished, then ... Fygge again ... I'm ... I do not know what's going on."
His voice failed; with a look of terrification, he kept staring at the Nord.

One second ago atronachs were here, and now they are gone. Great magic in act, Ismail thought. Stunned for a moment he saw Fygge appearing from nowhere. More magic! This will be great adventure indeed. He never liked mages, maybe because he had to listen to them all childhood. And now he is to take part in adventure filled with magic. Not good. Not good at all he thought.

After listening to what Fygge said, she turned to Garrick and said: "Thank you Garrick for supporting me. I see that you are a man that one can rely on". Even not knowing the man, Ismail felt he could trust him. Maybe they will make a good group in adventures to come.

Covered in snow up to his chest, Lui Wong is suddenly shaken from his maditation by shouts in the distance. Wondering who else was on the desolate mountain slopes he grabs his satchel and kwan dao and heads off towards the noises. When he arrives he is astonished to see the mercenary encampment.

Could it be true. Yes, it must be for that is the same man from my visions.

After listening in on the conversations being had by some of the encampments inhabitants Lui's worst fears where affirmed. He was suddenly torn between the fear of his visions and a sense of duty. His loyalty and honor, instilled in his heart from the many years at the monastary, finally won out and he approached Fygge.

"Greetings. I am Lui Wong. I am aware of the plight that faces our world. I have trained for many years and spent equally as long defending the people of my home from foriegn invaders. I am a skilled warrior who has proven himself by defeating raiding parties, led by deadra, attempting to destroy our temple. I have had experience hunting our common foe. My blade is yours".

-----
Name: Lui Wong
Race: Akavir
Armor: None.
Weapons: Silvered Kwan Dao (oriental halberd) and 30 steel throwing knives
Appearance: Lui Wong is a wiry man in his late 20's. He is simian like in apearance. He wears a Gondoleir helm and clothing similar to a traditional shaolin monk uniform.
Major Skills: Spear, Hand to Hand, Unarmored, Athletics, Acrobatics
Minor Skills: Short Blade, Alchemy, Light Armor, Marksman, Armorer

Dur-Colath breaths in relief as he see Ice-Blood intercept the ice ball " ok people we still have a chance, form a defenccive circle arounfd these two...." Dur-Colath got about that much out when the two Atronachs vanish and Fygge is once agine back in the camp. With him are two Nords.

After hearing what Fygge had to say and disapearing agine Dur-Colath thinks 'oh this is just looking better and better as the day goes on, now I need to find out just what our leader really is'

as he gets ready to go get himself clean a newcomer sttracts his attention, Dur-Colath listens to him and replys "Yes you have reached the right camp, but as for getting answers from our 'wonderious leader' good luck. you might have better chances geting answers with his two new bodyguards, if that is what they really are. Now if you would excue me I need to get clean befoire I totally swear off meat" Dur-Colath shakes the hand of Sesmar Alaharnok and then proceds to try and find a bath or stream, he is also looking for that coward Aleksi. walking up to Ice he smiles at him "good work there with stoping that spell, you more then likely saved a good many lives today. And if you see that coward Aleksi let me know because I think we should have a little talk with him about that little vanishing act he did"

Dur-Colath looks at the two bodyguards and figures he could wait till he looks (and smells) betterbefore trying to get some answers and forming a group. " Now for that bath"

Ulf did not understand much of what Wulfgar had just told him, but at least the young man apparently was not hurt albeit shaken quite a bit; like almost everyone seemed to be. Only slowly the anxiety left the air.
"Some things are not to be understood my son", Ulf said in a, not least to himself, calm voice. "All we can do is react to the things we see and look after ourselves and our friends, if we feel threatened". Ulf put his hand on the left shoulder of Wulfgar and at the same time he eyed Ismail talk to Garrick a few meters away he is still alive! thank the maker; reassuring himself in the words he spoke next: "Seems noone here could have effected this, whatever it was. You are alright and you stood firm as a man from the north, that is what's important."

Ulf sipped a bit of homemade brandy from the skin, seeing that Wulfgar didn't seem to want any. "Come, clean yourself in the stream and get your thoughts together. You're not the only one shaken by this."

Leading Wulfgar slowly along the way Ulf tried to reassure himself that Garrick was alright why do I care so for an altmer I just met...?. New people had arrived he noticed.

Kind of joining in late, but what the heck, I like RPs.
Name: Arcos Aries
Race: Dark Elf Male
Weapons: Windscythe, a uniquely forged Dai-Katana, a standard steel Wakizashi and Tanto
Armor: Her Hand armor (Hands of Almalexia armor) minus the helm
Appearance: A relatively young Dark Elf at 110 years old who serves as a part of the Temple's most elite force, the Hands of Almalexia. His face is remarkably ununique for a Dark Elf, with a common Dark Elf frown, red eyes, and black-silver hair that reaches down to his shoulders. His only disinguishing facial feature is a scar from his hairline across his left eye.
Major Skills: Long Blade, Athletics, Destruction, Restoration, Heavy Armor
Minor Skills: Marksman, Acrobatics, Alchemy, Short Blade, Sneak
----------------------------
Arcos Aries suddenly stopped. Someone was moving in the brush across the stream, making quite a commotion, obviously unaware a Dark Elf spellsword sat across the stream anticipating trouble. Arcos froze and watched the tall nordic man wade through the brush, carrying a small waterskin. Arcos darted behind a rock, and drew his Dai-Katana, waiting for the man to stop at the stream.

Suddenly, the lumbering beast of a nord stopped, apparently sitting to cast a line into the water. He heard more voices up the hill of other nords, probably mercenaries. Scum, Arcos thought. Mercenaries only meant conflict was afoot, conflict that would only get worse if they were involved. The Hands of Almalexia, were peacekeepers, not warmakers, and even if he did not like what the mercenaries were set on accomplishing, he was under strict orders from the Lord Archcanon not to disturb any of the nearby warring groups in the area, and only to recover what he was sent to recover.

Arcos listened carefully to the conversation, pricking up his sharp and well trained ears to listen for any words he should recognize. But these nords were largely drunk, and their words were a confused jumble, barely recognizeable aside from the occasional muttered tune.

But the man was still by the stream, and Arcos was becoming more and more angry by the second. Perhaps if it were possible to waylay the man...

No. That would be foolish. His orders said he was not to engage in direct conflict unless directly attacked.

So why not play friendly?

Arcos smiled. It was a clever idea. He was more than strong enough to take on a handful of drunken nordic raiders. And if there was no fight, he had safe travel in his hands.

Arcos stepped out from behind the rock and played as if he had been walking along. He stopped short when he saw the nord who had been sitting beside the stream. The nord looked up slowly at the Dark Elf in the shimmering armor of the Hands of Almalexia.

"Hello, nord," Arcos said in his best friendly voice.

Wulfgar was relieved to hear the reassuring words the Nord spoke to him - at least he was not being rebuked for his unmanly behaviour. Gladly accepting Ulf's help to stay upright on his trembling legs, he let himself be directed by Ulf who seemed to know already where the nearest water source could be found.

Again, the events surrounding Fygge were stunning and mind-numbing, but they also instilled confidence in Garrick, as Fygge thanked those who were willing to aid him. A warm feeling passed down his body, chasing away all the effects of the evil aura that he had felt before.

Garrick nodded at Ismail's words with a smile, thankful to have received some appreciation. As he turned around to look around at the camp, he found Ulf tending to the man he believed was named Wulfgar, which kept the smile on his face. These people seemed trustworthy and strong of heart and intent, spirited and well-willing, like Sigurd had been.
Without warning, Garrick clasped Ismail's arm and tried to pull him towards Ulf and Wulfgar, but if he would not move, he would not force him. Once they were with the other two, Garrick spoke softly so only the three of them could hear it absolutely clear. Then again, Garrick didn't believe some of the others would find them of much interest, judging by their words or actions.
"Ulf, Wulfgar, Ismail," the Altmer began after looking at all of them. "Just to be sure we are on knowing terms, I shall introduce myself again. I am Garrick and I would like to make a proposal to the three of you. We are to venture into Oblivion and at this moment in time, I could not think of others I would rather stand by than the three of you. But perhaps we should find a quiet spot near a stream so Wulfgar, Ismail and I can clean up; we were all too close to this explosion of gore, I believe. Then we can discuss this more fully?"

Aldhelm quickly realized that what he had percieved as being a hive of activity in the mercenary camp had actually been the chaotic struggle to gain control of the obviously newly-formed group and to keep them from attacking the defensively posed Atronachs. Many people try to gain order and Aldhelm is rather shocked when he feels a hand grasp his shoulder and ask, "Kind friend, with your height advantage perhaps you could tell me what it is that so holds everyones attention? For although I am sure that magic and blood are involved you Dunmer, and the Orcs some what obscure the vision of us of average height!" He is rather shocked to be addressed by a Paladin wearing such fine armor since he has been ignored by mortals for such a long expanse. Rather quickly, he resheathes his two daggers and begins to try to percieve the atronachs on the higher planes. "I am Ransom by the way, are you coming?" However, before he can open himself to the sense, he is interrupted with the abrupt disappearance of the two atronachs and the appearance of a man where they had been standing. The man introduces himself as Fygge Ropemuscles and even though he is panting heavily, Aldhelm still percieves a great strength in the one-eyed man. The man briefs them and stands back to allow for decisions to be made. Deciding to take a risk, Aldhelm decides to move through the group in an attempt to get to Fygge. Soon he spots the man who had earlier introduced himself as Ransoms and walks forward, the man turns to him and says , "Greetings, I am Ransom, and you are...". "Allow me to introduce myself, Ransoms, my name is Aldhelm. I am sorry that I did not answer more quickly. I was simply contemplating a dilemna of what to do about the Atronachs, however that dilemna has obviously solved itself." After this introduction, he decides that if any leader is worth serving it is obviously the man who has apparently worked some rather high level magics recently as his aura clearly indicates. Fygge then speaks to them, "My Paladins are veterans of many wars and are good listeners. Their names are Orlando and Olivier. They don't say much but they will hear you out." Making the decision that maybe the man is worth the attempt, he then moves towards Fygge in an attempt to tell him that he, Aldhelm, is at his service.

Knowing from past experience that he is not generally the type to be easily excepted, especially in this crowd of gruff Nords, he decides that his time would best be spent preparing for what inevitably lies ahead. Lui opens up his satchel and takes stock of his gear.

Hmm. Running low on food and herbs. He then gives his waterskin a good shake. And you could use a refill too.

Lui repacks his satchel, grabs his kwan dao, and heads off towards the surrounding brush to restock his supplies. As he heads out he sees a small group gathering and decides to approach slowly.


"Hail adventurers. I am Lui Wong. Do you know where there is any fresh water to found".

The stream was quite close to the camp; this was where Ulf had first met Fygge and his men attending their horses. Back then Fygge had acted a bit strange as he seemed to be making a habit of doing.
Hearing Fygge's voice and seeing that those in the camp, he felt was closest to his mindset, were alright, helped Ulf find the strength to keep his paranoia and thoughts at bay, focusing on the tasks at hand.
"Here we are friend. The stream will wash away all malcontent, both on the outside and inside." That was something his mother used to say to him as a boy, when she forced him to bathe. Memories, fond ones.. Ulf is that you?

A foreign but friendly voice behind him called out: "Hello, nord". Ulf startled, got a firmer grip on his staff (which he had just used for walking while supporting Wulfgar), and turned to meet the strangers face. He felt some of the fear leave him, as he saw no threathening posture from ... "A Dark Elf, here?". Ulf moved in front of Wulfgar in a protective way: Again one calling on him! Was he after him, did he know who he was? "erhmm.. Welcome stranger", Ulf smiled his less than charming smile uneasily. "Are you here to join Fygge's cause like us? Or are you just passing by...?".

Ulf was running out of ideas of what to say to this Dark Elf that came out of nowhere and somehow seemed too friendly for one of his kind. But then again, Garrick wasn't like most altmers, so why not. By that Garrick came towards them smiling and briging along Ismail. Ulf felt his spirit returning from the cold stream of uneasiness. "Garrick! Ismail! Good to see you laddies! Are you alright?"

Coming closer Garrick spoke words quickly and softly proposing partnership between the four. Ulf looked at the Dark Elf then at Garrick: "Aye - you should join brave young Wulfgar here and clean yerselves of this mess. I will help the newcomer in the right direction and be back in a few." With that he strode towards the Dark Elf with low held staff and the best (and still quite ugly) smile he could muster.

"Greeting," Arcos said in his low Dark Elf tone, wary but happy the nords had not attacked. "I am Arcos Aries, spellsword. I was dispatched to this area by the Lord Archcanon of the Tribunal Temple to investigate the recent disturbances by Daedric forces in the area, and I need to know if you or." Arcos paused to look at the other nords and the High Elf that had joined them in the clearing. "Your men have seen or heard anything unusual in the area."

Ulf considered how best to answer the question briefly, and changed the hand he held his staff with. Should he tell him about the atronachs? Or perhaps the stranger already knew and was only testing him. This Dark Elf spellsword did not frighten him, only mystified him. It had seemed the man had appeared out of thin air. But it appeared he didn't need to.

A screech shattered the silence around the stream with unusual force, scattering birds and making Ulf jump slightly.

"Clannfear. Blast." The Dark Elf muttered. "You need to tell me. Now. Have you seen anything? For the love of Vivec and your own safety, have you seen anything?"

Dur-Colath should have known better then to think he could have a quite relaxing bath in the nearby stream....as he wahsed the gore from his cloak and him he saw a darkelf sitting nearby. Expecting trouble but willing to give the being a reason of the doubt 'Idid the same when I first came to the camp.' he was still watching the dark elf silently when Ulf stumbled to the stream. ' the poor fool, he is going to get someone killed before long.' But Dur-Colath still readies his Daedric Tanto incase the dark elf wanted any trouble.

' There is something about that armor that really seems familuar, but I'll be stumped if I know what' Not knowing about a person always put Dur-Colath on the defenceive but he relaxed when the elf finally introduced himself to Ulf and the old man seemed to relax. ' Ok lets see were this goes.' then he saw Garrick and Ismail come to the stream to wash and by the looks of things, it looks like those three have formed a group. ' I really need to start thinking along that line, time is getting short and I'm still not sure about anyne here.'

Thinking back at the semibattle Dur-Colath figure he had nothing to lose by asking Ice and Kane to join up.
"first thing I do after my little talk with Aleksi is see what Ice and Kane think of me in a group with them." Dur-Colath quickly finishes and gets back into his clothes and armor and slings his wet cloak over his arm. His wet feet melt the snow on the bank but he pay little mind to the cold ground. He is more intent on getting a group formed and getting as far away from Fygge and his 'higher power' qualities as he could. steping quitely so he is not seen by the others at the stream Dur-Colath goes back to the camp with many plans forming in his head.

(OOC: editited once I realized that the clannfear wasnt offical.. I really should check up on those kind of things)

When they reached the stream, Wulfgar did not lose any more time. With a sigh of relief and for a moment oblivious of anything else around him, he plunged his head into the water of the running stream. The coldness of the water helped him back to his senses, and gradually the world around gained clarity again. The feeling of sickness was slowly wearing off.
When he drew his head out of the water again, he heard voices behind his back. Turning around, he saw the Nord who had helped him to the stream in conversation with what seemed like a Dark Elf - although members of that people had been a rare sight in his homecountry, they were not unknown to Wulfgar. Eyeing the stranger suspiciously, Wulfgar decided to remain in the background for now. Although he was feeling better already, he was far from having regained his strength and being in full control of himself.

Garrick watched the Dark Elf appear and nodded to Ulf when he said he'd get the good fellow to the camp. With a sigh of relief, he followed Wulfgar into the stream and washed his clothes and body as best he could. He shivered at first, but was delighted by the water's cleansing touch: it had been a good five days since he last bathed. Pulling out his waterskin, Garrick emptied the old water in the stream and filled it entirely with a fresh supply.
"Let us enjoy this feast of cool cleansing, as it might be the last one we'll see in quite some time," Garrick exclaimed to his companions and laughed. It had been a while since he had felt this good. Such a simple thing, such profound satisfaction, the Altmer thought with a broad grin. No one will contradict me on that!

The bath was so revitalizing to Garrick, he could almost feel his fatigue draining away and the mystical essences surrounding him coarse into his veins. This was a moment Garrick knew he would cherish for a long time to come, a thought that was as grim as it was satisfying on this point in time.

"Is there anything NOT unusual in this area?", Ulf boomed as his shoulders relaxed a bit. "I have been here not even a day, the name is Ulf by the way, and I have seen more strange things than I've seen in years. If you need answers, I think you should ask the two paladins in the camp up there... Orlando and Olivier methinks their names were." Ulf hoped, this would get the mysterious dark elf Arcos on his way, so the four of them could talk things through and he himself could understand more of what had just happened.

"I hope you come in peace to those that oppose the dea..." By that he was interrupted by a horrible sound. More trouble, I guarantee it Ulf stumbled a bit and looked in the direction of the screech.

"Clannfear. Blast." The Dark Elf muttered.
"What?", Ulf stammered.

Listening with a half ear to what the dark elf had to say besides that, Ulf responded coldly: "I do not know, what I have seen, but otherworldly comes to mind. Now mister Arcos, are you here to aid or to pester us with questions, to which we have no answer?"

With a firm grip in his staff he turned half away from him and trailed towards his newfound comrades.

"Ha, what a great warrior, not even able to tell a buzzard's scream from whatever mythical beasts he claims to be hunting" Wulfgar muttered under his breath.
Seeing no threat in the Dark Elf, he took off his chainmail, leather clothes and gear and began to wash his entire body as well as his clothes in the stream. He was hoping that there would be some equipment in the camp to enable him to tend his chainmail, so that he would also be able to wash the blood off of it without having to fear that it turned into a large piece of rust.

Following the others Lui manges to find the stream. As he arrives he sees one of the Nords leading a Dark-elf back towards camp and another washing in the stream with two others adventurers. Having not gotten any kind of information from Fygge he approaches close to the others filling up his waterskin.

"Do you warriors know any details about our upcomming mission," Lui says in a nonchelant mannor towards Wulfgar and his companions. Not entirely aware of thier motives he made sure not to make eye contact and study thier reactions before continuing conversation.

"Ha, what a great warrior, not even able to tell a buzzard's scream from whatever mythical beasts he claims to be hunting"

Aleksi, near the stream on his way back to camp, couldn't help laughing at this comment. "So much for him," he replied, walking over. "Maybe this mythical beast is a better fight for our brave hero?" His tone was light-hearted, showing no sign of recognizing the fellow nord. "I was about to give those two credit for some skill, but they haven't spent much time in the woods if they can't even tell a bird call from a demon..."

His words were half spoken to himself, and he began cleaning his weapons without waiting for a reply.

Arcos scowled. He couldn't have expected much cooperation from nords anyway, but his disappointment turned to fury at the old man's comment. "Do you know what lies in this very valley at this very moment, old man?!?!?! Or are you just toying with me?!?!?! I was sent with orders from Ocato himself through the Lord Archcanon to investigate daedric disturbances in this area! Do you have any idea what that means?"

The tall Altmer looked as if he were about to say something, but thought better of it and said nothing.

Arcos sighed. "Where is your camp? I will provide an extra sword if you will provide lodging for the night. I have no intention of remaining long in this area, but if daedra attack again, you will find my abilities..." Arcos trailed off, then smiled. "Useful."

Getting up from the force of the spell, Ice thought to himself, "interesting, must've been quite a powerful spellcaster to have conjured something like that up. Usually my blade just absorbs frost magic..." Putting the thought aside, he stood up and called to Ulf, "I assure you that I am not in league with those beings, I simply did not wish to provoke them into attacking so soon. And Dur-Colath, thank you for the compliment. Such things are rare for Argonians in these lands." He then walks over to where he threw his cloak and retrieves it, taking a sharpening stone from one of its pockets. He sits down on a nearby rock and sets to work on his blade. He cared little that his armor was stained with blood from the encounter, as he was quite used to the sight from his many battles in his crusade against slavery. "My only regret thus far is that we were unable to fight those Atronachs, as it would have been beneficial to test both our abilities and those of our enemies," he says after a moment.

"At least this old man's hearing is still good enough to tell a buzzard from a deadra, although you had me wavering there for second master elf.", Ulf replied drily but then lightened up from the chuckles around him aswell as Wulfgar's promising comeback. "My good elf, look around you. This is not a camp of nords dancing and drinking the sun over the hillside! Stout and proud men and women of arms and arcane skill", Ulf nodded towards Wulfgar and the others, "have been gathering here for days under the banner of Fygge Robemuscles to prepare for none other than outright confrontation with the blackness spilling out from that rift!". Surprising himself more than anyone, Ulf continued pouring some wisdom into this youngin fancypants from the city in the shining armour.

"You noticed people with blood and guts all over them yet or did you take it for wine stolen from the cellars of rich barons and counts?", he chided on but now softened his tone and met the dark elfs stare, "Do not come here asking if we do not know what it means but believe me when I say, we are not here to understand, we are here to fight and repell those that want to do evil against us and our friends. Those who have long pestered our hearts with foul actions of old and new."

Ulf faced him and opened his arms, "You should join us not question us". By that he returned to the others and learned how it had all happened out of the blue, that Ice-blood was alright and just wanted to prevent assailing any unnecessary aggression from the atronachs.
"I acted clumsy and rash, for that I am sorry my friends - might have brought you more danger than not", Ulf said in a low voice, sat down, and got a sip from his skin.

OOC: owner of Garrick...it was a few words I used to get the right effect for my post...nothing more

Kane smirks at the one known as Garrick and his 'kindly' spoken words, slowly he shakes his head, remaining under the tree where he has been since the atronachs arrived, disappeared and Fygge giving another briefing, almost instantly Kane knew he and Garrick wouldn't work together, they didn't know each other and already they were bashing heads...to Kane a few people stood out as good comrades yet Kane wasn't one to up and ask, this was his time to focus, without his focusing most of his skills would be useless but kane couldn't leave Garrick's arrogance without a reply...without even looking around or bothering to be polite to others, he projects his voice directly at Garrick.

"You are fools...too much arrogance and not enough brain...you think I ran or became a coward from battle! every battle I have faced I have always stood to the challenge...heck my motto is Never Give Up, Never Give In...I am determination itself...yet even I know that running into a fight with mystery enemies is suicide...sure we outnumbered them but can you really calculate their strength just like that? I doubt it...true that we could of attacked but how many lifes are you willing to risk by attacking two atronachs that have been ordered to stand ground while their master fights Fygge...how many lifes are you willing to risk before we even get to the rift?"

Due to frustration of the subject, he stands up, his eyes narrowing while he glances at everyone within the camp.

"come on...how many lifes are you willing to risk before we get to the rift...Fygge himself said they were after him, not us...yes he is our leader but do you really think two atronachs would be placed to stop all of us if Fygge couldn't handle himself? you all need to think where your loyalty and common sense lie...my common sense lies within my head...my loyalty lies with those that my service are too...my loyalty is to this camp...but it doesn't get me killed...and if you all think I am trying to be a glory hogger...wanting fame and glory...then think again...have any of you even thought about those in Cyrodiil? I doubt it...my family live within Cyrodiil and that is where my actual loyalty lies....as for this grouping...you can team with me...that isn't the problem...but I hope you have common sense because you won't last two minutes without it"

His eyes glance around once more, his hands clenching into fists as he thinks about his family, the ever chilling thought stuck within the back of his mind and the question of whether are they alive or not floating about, he sighs deeply...the worry about his family showing, he turns slowly and walks off from the camp but not too far incase people wanted to talk to him, slowly he pulls out his nordic longsword, closing his eyes as he places his left foot infront of him, his right foot behind with his knees bent slightly. Along with this he also held his left arm like he was holding an invisible shield while his right arm is pulled back and held outwards in a ready position to slash horizontally.

He holds this pose for several minutes while he listens to the sound of a gentle breeze passing him. Allowing a few more minutes to pass before maneuvering through a strike pattern, he eyes still closed as the attacks speed up, he continues to do this until he is needed, taking his time to cool off and find his calm exterior once more.

Arcos considered this carefully, then knelt on the ground and drew his sword, Windscythe, placing it before him. "Very well, mercenary. In the name of Vivec, I swear to fight the daedric hordes, to battle them back from the rift, and give my life in the defense of the great Tamrielic Empire." He looked up at Ulf, then over to the old nord, the Altmer, and the other nords. "But do not mistake my intentions. I swear allegiance to no man. I will fight for your cause, die for it if at all necessary, but no man outside of Vivec himself earns my allegiance. I am no naive fool. I am not inexperienced in the ways of war nor the workings of Tamriel," he said pausing to stand up and sheathe the Windscythe, "and I don't believe you will think so after you see a Hand of Almalexia in combat."

Ulf nodded. "Glad to have an extra man aboard."

Arcos strode up to where they were gathered. "Shall we return to the camp?"

Dur-Colath enters the camp and see Ice sharpening his weapon. sitting down on the ground next to him he says "Ice I have given this some thought, During the battle you saw how things were and didnt just automaticly atack at the sight of the beasts. I was wondering if you will be part of my group when we finally leave this place for were ever our leader deames proper?" Dur-Colath sits quietly and waits for Ice-Blood to answer.

Garrick laughed lightly and softly at Ulf's chiding jests. As he watched and listened to Ulf setting the Dunmer's vision of the encampment right, Garrick also noticed something in the stream. Kneeling in the fresh water, he gathered some algae from a rock and brought it up from the water.
With the algae in hand, the Altmer wandered to the bank and sat down. He then proceeded to put the algae on his knee and tear up a piece of his shirt. Carefully, but not careful enough to prevent a few winces of pain, Garrick smeared the algae on his burn wounds and then bandaged them with the strip of cloth.
Not as potent as a potion or spell, but it will do for now, Garrick thought to himself and looked around at the plants and trees growing about. This place might be good foraging grounds. I might not be the greatest alchemist around, but even raw ingredients can safe a life and I am sure I could whip up some potions or cures before we leave.
"Good gentleman," Garrick said to all those within earshot. "I just realized that the surrounding area of Fygge's camp might contain interesting ingredients with which to make potions and the likes. Would any of you happen to be skilled in alchemy and interested in helping me find the components for such draughts? I am not much of an alchemist, but I can whip up potions well enough to help out."

Barely had he finished his light-hearted question, or the man in Daedric chose that moment to reply to Garrick's earlier words. Shaking his head subtly, Garrick listened to the man make his speech. As he listened, however, his fury with this man's arrogance and lack of perception grew beyond normal levels.
"If you are a man of great experience, then you should know that those of less experience are often led well through example. If we were to take yours, I am afraid we would be off quite worse than we are now."
"Let us look at this from a logical point of view, such as mine is. The attack came sudden and not a word was spoken by those who attack Fygge to the atronachs. You assumed they were there to defend their master. Now, I do not know what language of the mind these creature might possess, that you heard and understood, but I did not hear or sense anything that made me think these creatures were there to simply stand around, even though they did."
"You, on the other hand, had quickly decided that these creatures were not worth your time and sat down under a tree! Now, I have not been trained by the Fighter's Guild, so I might have missed some mysterious and mystical sword attack, but I doubt that is the best position should you be attacked, or any of us. But, wait, of course, you knew the atronachs wouldn't attack or at least you cared enough about the others here to squat in the shade."
"How many lives would I risk? One! I have but my own to risk, sir, and you shall have no say in how I do that or not. Apparently, though, you also must have known what Fygge was to say, before he even said it! as you couldn't care less about what happened to us. If I had known that they were after Fygge, would I have changed my actions? No, because I would not trust the intent of Daedra. No, because I am not one to sit around idly, even if it meant that I would stand ready nearby, should something unexpected happen. No, because I care"
"Have I thought about those in Cyrodiil? What kind of a question is that? Why do you think I am here? I have seen the innocent citizens of Cyrodiil killed by monsters akin to those atronachs! But I would be caught dead before you'd find me sitting under a tree while others might be in danger!"

Garrick looked around at this point, expecting to see some confused faces, perhaps a few angry ones, but then he continued his reprisal in full force. "What you do is dull the heroic intent of nearly every man in this camp. Nearly each of us here was ready to act responsibly, to come to Fygge's aid, to fight as one group: one united fist against these Daedra. Now you would call us fools? Arrogant and brainless? To me these men have proved to have more heroism in a thumb than you in that entire fancy armor of yours!"

"You seek to lecture me, sir, but I would dare you to think carefully before you do so again! You point the finger of accussation, but I would show you the stopping palm of my hand. Do not judge me or any of the others here again, but seek only to judge yourself and your actions, as they are what measures you among men. It is what you do that defines you, not what you watch others do and judge them on."
"Never give up, never give in, huh? I guess that's easy if you avoid any situation in which either of those two come up! I've seen men killed as they tried to safe their wife and children, they knew nothing of their foe, they knew they could not beat their opponent, but still they fought! Would you dare call them fools now? Would you berate that man for his lack of common sense? Would you tell him to run and let his family die? It is not the outcome of an event that is important, it is your intentions during that event and how you would act upon them that seperate the heroic from the apathic. It is not just black and white, right and wrong! Everything changes, evolves, revolves and shifts. What you seem to call common sense, I would call... madness"

After these words, Garrick positioned himself squarely before the armor-clad Imperial, possibly interfering with the exercises was trying to perform. He made a poor figure, with his bandaged arm, wet hair and clothes and carrying no weaponry whatsoever, as his axe lay near the stream still. However, he was an Altmer who stood for what he said and believed.
His believes, the Imperial's arrogance and the insults hurled at the otehrs, this all gave Garrick an air of determination that normally would have been arrogant. However, equiped as he was in comparison to the Imperial, few would call the Altmer arrogant. Crazy, most likely, but not arrogant or aloof.

Ulf’s heart beat faster and he felt his ears warm up from blood circulation and his anticipation of how the dark elf, Arcos Aries, would respond. He had never talked to anyone this way before, he felt different; felt Fygge's aura somehow engulfed the entire camp giving him strength, to become the man he was supposed to be. One that takes care of his surroundings as well as himself, one that does not live his life on the inside cursing others for his plight. He hoped he could continue this change for the good.

Arcos disconnected him from his thoughts and brought his attention back. Surprised and feeling very out of place, we saw him kneel on the ground, drawing his sword, and placing it before him in Ulf’s direction. What in Tamriel is he doing?

"Very well, mercenary. In the name of Vivec, I swear to fight the daedric hordes, to battle them back from the rift, and give my life in the defence of the great Tamrielic Empire", the dark elf said in a clear and determined voice. Ulf was stunned.
After hearing him off, listening closely mainly to keep focused and not let him look more stupid than necessary Ulf nodded. what do I say to something like that...?
"Glad to have an extra man aboard", Ulf tried.

Arcos strode up to where they were gathered. "Shall we return to the camp?"

Relieved that he didn't make a fool of himself and that his speech had not backfired, Ulf nodded to the others and stretched his arm out in front of Arcos. "This way, let me show you around and introduce you to those, whom I have met here. We're not as bad a bunch of people as we might look!", Ulf chuckled but kept a thought in his mind: No, not bad at all - seems the incident put some team feeling into everyone despite the differences of opinions and actions.