The Deadric Wager

[The Great Me!]

Sign-Up/OOC thread and plot info here:
https://www.iwakuroleplay.com/threads/the-deadric-wager-open-accepting.41346/

=======================================================================

=======================================================================

A moist chill on the wind promised rain within the coming day, heavy clouds hanging over the landscape and mixed with the bitter chill of mountain frost wafting down from the highest peaks, nipping unforgivingly at even the slightest amount of exposed skin.

The wicker of a horse followed the turned backs of two figures walking up the cobblestone road and past the entry walls of the Hold up on the hill, the only noticeable structure for as far as the eye could see across the central-Skyrim tundra of Whiterun.

One of the figures was dressed in a manner that marked him as a Redguard, wearing the native clothing of the Al'ikir sands.
The other was dressed in a full cloak, the shoulders and hood lined in fur and feathers, the only visible splash of color on the shorter figure's otherwise all-black clad form being the brown of hide leather and gleam of steel plating on one leg, the other hidden by the furls of his cloak.

The shorter figure huffed audibly, a single blue eye gazing up at the stone walls and large gates from beneath the hood which otherwise hid his scarred face in shadow. He'd been told time and again that it was important he play calm and diplomatic, as if he hadn't heard it enough times, but even so, that really wasn't his style.

Yet, he still found himself made to go, though why him was beyond his understanding. Why couldn't Nazir go by himself? It wasn't as though the Redguard needed him for protection or anything, being one of the most senior surviving members of the Brotherhood, and now it's leader.

"There's not going to be any damn werewolves there, are there?" he muttered under his breath in complaint. His two second-most-hated group of beings; werewolves, and vampires. Invasive bastards always felt the need to invade his personal space wanting to know about him when they caught wind of his unusual scent, as if it was any of their business.

"The summons was for all four of the guilds in Skyrim, which includes the Companions," Nazir stated in a matter-of-fact baritone. "So it wouldn't be an unfair guess to assume one of them will be there."

"Just fucking perfect," Faulklin spat under his breath. "I hate werewolves. Damn dogs don't know when to keep their noses' out of where they don't belong."

Nazir gave him a pointed look of warning as they came closer to the main gate.
"Just remember to mind yourself in there. Things are going to be tense enough with both the leaders of the Legion and Stormcloaks present. We don't need to add to it and get ourselves or our group into any unnecessary trouble, especially with the eyes of every major force in Skyrim upon us."

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you the other hundreds of times you told me on the way here," Faulklin brushed off belligerently, rolling his single eye. "Nice to know you have so much faith in me."

Nazir ignored him as they came to the gates and the guards moved to intersect them, eyes scanning both males.

"Halt! I think I've seen you before... What purpose do you have here in Whiterun?"

"We're here on business, to answer a summons at Dragon's Reach," Nazir explained, producing the letter which had been sent to the Brotherhood by courier and showing it to the guard. The man took it and glanced over it's contents before looking back up at the two.

"I remember now, the summon for the guilds' meeting. You're both a part of the Brotherhood, am I right?" he questioned with a note of harshness to his voice. He hummed in thought before handing the parchment back with reluctance. "Well...alright, you can go through, but I have my eye on both of you. Conduct any business that deals in blades and blood while in our city, and you'll have me to answer to."

"We'll keep that in mind," Nazir replied calmly as he folded the summons letter and tucked it into hiding again, completely unintimidated by the thinly vieled threat and walking forward as the gates were opened by the guards to let them through.

"Well he seemed like a pleasant fellow," Faulklin sneered under his breath, dogging Nazir's steps up through the Cloud District until they came to Dragon's Reach, the other guards who patrolled the city eyeing them suspiciously the entire way.

 

[Raimei]

Spoiler

Prologue - The Schaelfe'chur,

The Snow Elves were peaceful, they stuck to their little tribes and kept to themselves. The tribe of Schaelfe'chur lived on a small, tiny, in fact, island just off the coast (a literal ten to twenty minute swim away) of Auridon. The tribe consisted of around twenty to thirty members, at that time almost a thousand years ago. Auridon was under a constant blizzard as the continents of Nirn shifted and changed. Many of these minute changes we're small enough to be left unrecorded, just tiny shifts in the earth. But with these came (occasionally drastic) weather changes. This one, for instance, was an eight month blast of coldness. Whilst the Altmer huddled inside their shelters, the Snow Elves, more primitive, remained in their tents with a mere campfire to keep them warm. Though many weren't bothered, as the Ancients could survive in temperatures below freezing for long periods of time. The Schaelfe'chur, as mentioned before, was one of the more civilized of the tribes, the other, larger tribes reverted to old, primitive ways, which in this context meant living in caves found along their pilgrimages. Some kept a bad reputation, rumors were often crossed back and forth between the Altmer of Daedric connections, even cannibalism. The Schaelfe'chur managed to overlook this, they occasionally suent someone to go into the small Altmer villages not too far from their island to observe any news or important happenings that may affect them, but other than that they remained distant and isolated. They preferred this, the Altmer weren't known for getting along with the Snow Elves. They had an education system where a small class of infants aged five years to fourteen learnt etiquette (extremely strict compared to any Altmer or Snow Elf alike) along with reading tomes written by the tribe Elders (the oldest and wisest who lead the tribe), learning how to channel their magika into spells, survival skills and religion. As for survival skills, this part consisted of learning how to weave things from clothes to ornate fishing hooks. (The Schaelfe'chur adapted well to the ocean, eating only fish they caught and cooked themselves, and taking to water with agility and precision in hunting and swimming) Their religion was awfully strict, if someone took a wrong turn, committed one petty crime, did anything of a criminal nature and they were sent to the Elders (who were often never seen) were dubbed as 'unpure' and often ended up banished from the tribe; never to return. Marriages we're only for the purpose of reproduction and any romance prior to marriage was forbidden.

 

[Naruka-Chan]

Holding the rough leather in her hands, Kari flipped through the pages to resume her reading. She has read the book multiple times, but it was one of the few she kept in her bedside drawer for her eyes only. Sitting on the wooden seat just outside of her room, she relieved her eyes from reading and looked around the room. The red with gold stitching intertwined banner lazily slumped next to her, it's twin just lengths away. The tale was littered with empty bottles of mead that Tilma hadn't thrown away yet, and a steaming plate of fresh sweet rolls. Picking one up, Kari bit into it, continuing to search around the room for nothing. She then moved her bare feet along the soft cow fur rug, it was comforting and made her feel safe in a way, but no one was truly safe.

Hearing footsteps come down the hallway, Kari's trance was interrupted as the doors slowly opened. An aged Nord kinswoman showed her face through the crack and smiled. "Kari," the frail voice traveled from her mouth, "you're going to be late if you don't get dressed and to Dragon's Reach," Kari only nodded as she left the seat that was getting slightly uncomfortable, and watched as Tilma let herself in to clean.

Heading into her room, she tried thinking of what to wear. Instinctively, Kari grabs her black wolf hat and places it over her straw colored hair. Next came dark brown elvish leggings and a dirt colored shirt to match. It was tight fitting around the waist, and was lighter in the chest area. Lastly came some hide boots that she slipped on. Pulling the drawer from her bedside table, she grabbed the parchment paper and read over it once more. Growling to herself slightly, a few words escaped her clenched teeth, "Damned Stormcloaks. Why do they have to be there?"

Leaving Jorrvaskr, a few people wished her luck, or pulled their fists to their chest in respect for their Harbinger. Slowly descending the stairs, Kari's amber eyes darted from side to side, memories flooding her vision. Blood painted the stone, bodies lay in wait to be either burned or to be food for wolves. She closed her eyes as hard as she could, but to no avail, they still haunted her mind. Walking past the Gildergreen tree, she gently dragged a pale hand across the rough bark, it was something she does every time she passed the massive thing. Watching as two men, one tall enough to be a child, headed up the stone steps towards the Reach, Kari slowly trailed behind.

Soon enough, she passed the shrine of Talos, and smiled. Even though she hated the Stormcloaks with a burning passion, the Aldmeri Dominion had the same place in her heart. Once her foot hit the first step, her attention was back on the matter at hand, getting up these steps without killing herself. Kari did so, and every guard she passed, they all said the same thing. "Hail, Harbinger." The words rang through her ears, even though she had been the Harbinger for a year, it didn't feel though she was. Kodlak should still be the man in charge while Kari was set out to help the people of Skyrim.

Finding herself at the door, Kari sighed, she needed to be more focused, to stop spacing out as much as she was. Placing her right hand on the wood, she pushed on the door and made her way inside. The Reach was dark as always, lit by a single fire directly in front of the Jarl's throne. It was a change in temperature, that was for sure, as the weather outside was cold, and inside was warm. It made time seem to stand still, as she walked along the rug and up the steps, finally about to figure out what this summoning was really about.

 

[Raimei]

'An innocent unpure.'

Dakiin knelt on the mossy rocks of The Schaelfe'churian island, overlooking the icy sea as it swept up and down over her bare toes. The Snow Elf surveyed the frothing, dark waves for the sign of any fish. Or a porpoise, a porpoise would make alot of money, or feed her family for a good few days. She breathed in the cold air, the petrichor scent of the earlier hail fall crept through the coast.

A splash came from not too far away, now alert the Elf's eager eyes darted quickly to the source, from what she heard the splash was light and weak; a mere catfish, most likely. A fish not of much worth but better than returning empty handed. She readied her dagger as she kept a watch for the next splash. It came from the left, still near the rocky bank. She took a short breath, put her pale hands together and dived into the navy sea. She kept her, coincidentally, pastel blue eyes open, her eyelashes were a deep black, standing out in her otherwise blue to white palette.

She looked around in the water to spy the, as she predicted, catfish, swimming away. She raced after it, dagger in hand as she gripped it's slippery tail and dragged it back, plunging the dagger into it's gills and twisting it as she brung it to the surface. Now lifeless, she stuffed the fish into her woven, white bag made primarily of cotton as she traipsed back up to the beach. She hung it on her shoulder as always, she'd been down to this coast every day since she was fourteen. Around four years now.

The pale Elf left light footprints in the frosted sand as she ambled across the coast. She came to this side of the island to pass by the Altmer village on the way, she never interacted with anyone. She merely observed the daily goings-on of the High Elves and then moved on her way. Today, from the position of the sun, it was around eight am. The markets were open from the sounds of the townsfolk, calling for customers and promoting their goods.

Dakiin walked along the outer wall of the village, overlooking the Altmer as they went on with their daily routines. As she carried on walking across she slipped and fell, hearing a loud 'crack' as her body contacted the pavement. She was on the inside of the wall. Her hands trembled as she fumbled to get up, a few concerned villagers wandered over, a rough looking pair of them helped her up, moving her behind a building, barely conscious. In one punch they knocked her out cold.

 

[State Of Bedlam]

At last, Tullius, Rikke, a Maruardt courier, and a small contingent of Legion soldiers arrived at the gates of Whiterun. It had taken far too long to get there, and it was going to take far too long to tread the road ahead. It wasn't the journey from Solitude that so bore on Tullius, though, but the weighted grey of war. War was always entirely too lengthy, however necessary.

"The general arrives," a guard spoke. "The Archmage and the assassins arrived ahead of you."

"And I assume the Companions' representative is there already as well?" Tullius replied.

"Most likely," the guard responded.

That just leaves the thieves.

Tullius and company made their way inside as the gate creaked open. He eyed the courier to his left for a moment. The Maruardt Estate had been the Legion's greatest local benefactor of late and he valued their insight, but it always came through these damn couriers. Something was unmistakably off about them. Not criminal, just stiff and devoid of personality. In times like these, better not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Dragonsreach grew closer with each step. Tullius was tired, but he was ready. This meeting was exceedingly important. It would likely make or break the war.

Rikke stepped forward and pushed the door open.

 

[The Great Me!]

Admittedly, even for the mouthy and often complaining teen, the warm air that wafted from within Dragon's Reach was welcoming compared to the always-frigid air of the vast majority of Skyrim. The crackle of fire was a welcomed sound as the two made their way up the steps at the entrance, sitting front-and-center within the throne room chamber while long wood tables sat on either side of it, five chairs to each.

Idly the teen wondered if it would be enough to seat everyone, though he supposed that depended on whether either the Stormcloaks and Legion only brought themselves and their bodyguards or their whole damn army.

Maybe if we're lucky, they'll fight to the death over who gets to sit down and finish their stupid war right here, he couldn't help but think wistfully.

Already it appeared as though some of the seats were taken, the Mages from the College having already arrived. Nazir cast them a look as well as he took a seat at the table opposite, regarding the female leader of the College with a slight incline of his head.

"You must be the new Arch Mage I've been hearing about," he regarded her stoicly. "A pleasure to meet you."

For his part, Faulklin remained silent, taking a seat next to the Redguard in a noticable 'I really don't want to be here' slouch, not bothering to remove the hood of his cowl and keeping his face draped in shadow, save for his pale-lipped scowl which was still visible.

When the doors opened again, heralding the arrival of another member to their meeting, Nazir gazed over at the wolf-skin clad woman who approached. Since it was obviously not a procession of either Legion or Stormcloak forces, and Nazir had heard through the information grapevine that the Nightingale's themselves would play representative for the Thieves Guild, he could only guess which faction this woman belonged to.

"And that must be the representative for the Companions," he announced needlessly, more making a casual observation to all present.

Faulklin groaned under his breath and slid further down in his seat, looking more the part of a petulant child than even before.

"Great. Damn dogs were invited to the party after all," he muttered, his complaints mutteredly quietly but not so quietly they couldn't be heard.

 

[Raimei]

'Awakening'

A gasp and heavy breathing broke the silence across the glacial remains that floated not too far from Summerset. A beam of sunlight shone into the Pale Elf's eyes, making her squint as she inhaled as much of the fresh air as she could, falling to her knees on the ice as her chest flexed inwards and outwards rapidly, her ribcage showed how underweight the Elf was as she kept herself up, her white hands stable on the ice below her.

'You are deemed unworthy, unjust and unpure. Dakiin Reteck of the Schaelfe'chur'

The Snow Elf coughed and spluttered, still on all fours before getting up. She was completely soaked, she shakily walked over to the ice from which she came, using it for grip as she regained motion in her legs, continuing to squint in the morning sun as she stumbled about. The coast wasn't too far ahead, the island she formerly resided upon was nowhere to be seen. The rising tide could be to blame.

Dakiin's head was all over the place, she rubbed her eyes to unblur her vision as she slowly sat down and slid into the water, the freezing sea felt warm in comparison with her skin. She waded through the water, making it to the coast in good time. How long had it been? What had happened? Where were the others? She feared these questions may never be answered.

The waves were still, silent even, on the now golden sand which was formerly caped in snow, frost and more ice. The colour of the water had changed, too. A chortle of Altmerian voices could be heard from a distance away, the market was never this close before. So much has changed.

'I love you. And I'll undoubtedly miss you, sister.'

Dakiin continued to walk cautiously into the town, people were now around, some gasped, some walked straight past her. There were things she'd never seen before, men covered in fur with tails and ears of Feline origin. Elves without pointed ears, men with scales too. How had so much changed? It felt like not only a day ago she was back on the island. The Markets were gone, replaced with extravagant architecture, the streets were crowded with hundreds of people going about their daily business. She couldn't take it all in, beginning to hyperventilate she stumbled back towards the wilderness, walking through as she took in deep breaths.

Trotting alarmed the Elf, making her pulse raise more, her stomach fill with anxiety. She couldn't tell where it was coming from, so she continued to walk. Voices with unknown accents echoed through the trees. The gallops were getting closer. Dakiin felt the urge to run, she didn't know if her fear was too much or her senses were alarming her. Either way, she decided to follow these instincts, she began to run, darting through the treeline. She came to a path, a horse and cart galloped across it, many more behind.

Dakiin wouldn't survive on her own in this new time, not without aid.

"E.. excuse me!" She managed a call, the train of carts lined with Guards stopped, one got off and walked towards her.

"Yes?"

"M- c- can I ride on one of your carts.. please?"

"I don't see why not. Get on then." The officer shrugged, the carts carried on.

"Where are you going?"

"To Whiterun."

 

[Raimei]

The cart rocked to and fro as the train came off the rocky roads of the wilderness and onto the smoother ones used for main travel, Whiterun was in sight now, Dragonsreach also. The Pale Elf was somewhat amazed by the sheer advancements of this city. And everything here, in this new world. Well, time. But this time felt as if she was somewhere else completely.

"So where are you from, anyways? You don't look like a normal citizen." A guard interrupted her gaze, his unknown accent echoed about his helmet.

"An island off the coast of Windhelm." Dakiin replied, "D- do you mind telling me what year it is?"

"Fourth Era - 201. Why do you ask?"

Three Eras.

Dakiin gulped.

Three Eras.

Three Eras she had been gone.

"Are you okay?" The guard interrupted once more

"Yes, yes I'm fine."

A moment later the carts came to a stop, they were at the gates. Everyone got off and began walking in straight rows, all the guards walked one direction, the guests another. Dakiin followed the guests up to the extravagant palace which stood above the other buildings, entering now and preparing herself for more shock.

(sorry for short post)

 

[Ruko]

The gates parted as Ulfric Stormcloak crossed the boundary into Whiterun. Their attack may have failed, thanks to the insufferable Dragonborn, but they had succeeded in leaving their mark, at least. It was well covered up, but there were still holes in roofs, smouldering planks and small mounds of charred stones. He thought a peace meeting in Whiterun was a terrible idea actually, what with it being in enemy territory, but he knew he couldn't win this war without the aid of professionals and that is what he aimed to get.

Accompanied by his excessive phalanx of warriors, he intimidated his way to the cloud district, after beating up a man named Nazeem who seemed unable to direct him there despite his almost programmed cockiness. He realised that now he had only 3 guards left. He had no idea how it had happened, but knew that when he got back to windhelm, someone was being executed.

"Damn commoners. Why do they have to view ale as the most important thing? Damn taverns."

He knocked on the door, and the echo reverberated throughout the palace. After a much too long distance of time, the door was finally opened and a bemused and impatient king strided through them, in a much too pompous manner.

 

[Tanzinite]

It was a soft, glowing blue light that awakened her in the small hours of the morning. Groaning, she raised her head from her hide bed and blinked away the sleep from her eyes. The sphere of blue grew until it encompassed a large amount of the small space in her room, and then faded once more as a figure appeared. At first, the intruder looked mostly like a man, with a strong, muscular build, but then as her eyes came into focus she spotted the antlers atop the deer head. Hircine.

"My lord," she murmured, just barely managing to hide her annoyance. "What brings you here while I sleep?"

"There is a meeting to take place in Whiterun. I wish for you to attend," came the booming reply. His voice always sounded like it was on the verge of madness. "A meeting between the Stormcloaks and Imperial Legion. I find their goings on interesting. I would like you, my champion, to attend."

"And you couldn't have just told me this in the morning without waking up and appearing in my house?" no longer trying to hide her annoyance, she glared. "Besides, why can't you watch it yourself. You would have a much easier time than I."

"Well, perhaps I wanted to see you. It's been a while." His deer ears flicked around his head. An action her performed when agitated. "Besides, if you go to the meeting, I can keep my eyes on other things. And with the Hunt impending, that seems most prudent."

A the mention of the Hunt, Tayla perked up. "Have you set a date? Do you have a target? Will I be able to participate this time?" She asked in a rush of excitement. For the last two Hunts, she had been the one to call the hounds to their task, but never had she been allowed to participate herself.

Hircine cocked his massive head. "I have yet to choose a target. When I do, if I think the target is strong enough, I will allow you to take part." That was always the deal. But it seemed as though he could never choose a target strong enough to let her participate.

Deflating, Tayla looked down. "I will call on Bog. We will leave for Whiterun in not too long."

Hircine gave her one more look. "You are too powerful for most hunts." He muttered, before another blue light engulfed him and he disappeared.

Rolling her eyes, Tayla rose from the bed and grabbed her armour. Making quick work of putting it on, she was soon out in the crisp morning Solitude air. All but the guards were still inside, which was nice for her. She hated all the glares she got when she walked the streets of solitude. Everyone thought she was a danger to them. At the moment, she wasn't, but if they continued to ostracize and scorn her, she might become one. There was only so much she could take.

Out the main gate, she was met with the cold air common to this part of Skyrim. Repressing a shiver, she jogged down the hill and quickly began her climb up the mountain to the right. It took her about a half hour, and by the end she was panting heavily. Gladly away from the line of sight of any of the guards below, she threw back her head in guttural howl. Not long after, she heard the responding howl of Bog, coming closer even as he let it off.

Soon, a giant, white wolf stood before her, it's rough thick with soft fur. Tongue lolling out his mouth, Bog looked at her with excitement. It had been weeks since the two had made a trip together. Far too long.

With a smile, she reached up and touched the animal's massive head. He seemed to smile at her touch, and quickly lowered himself to the ground so that she might climb onto his shoulders. He would be her ride to Whiterun. Following a few more pats around his neck, he rose, ready to move faster than any horse. His body language seemed to ask what destination she had in mind.

"To Whiterun." She smiled as Bog took off.

 

[State Of Bedlam]

Rikke made her way inside, Tullius right behind her and a few other soldiers right behind him. Although he respected the College mages and the Companions, his eyes betrayed a tinge of impatience which he'd made little pretense to hide. The Dark Brotherhood's leadership was here also. A necessary evil, unfortunately. As he'd concluded at the gate, the only party not here yet were the thieves.

They were all very young. The Archmage looked to be in her mid twenties. The Companions' leader and one of the Assassins were in their teens. It's a strange world.

"Greetings, Guildmasters. I've arranged this meeting hoping I could sway you to the side of the Legion. You knew that much already, but I think it's best that I state so bluntly. Our intentions are no secret," He'd never been extremely charismatic, but he tried when it was needed.

"As an imperial soldier, my solemn duty is to every citizen of the empire. I belie-" a knock resonated throughout the longhouse. "Ah, that must be the thieves. Good timing, I haven't even found my seat yet."

It wasn't the thieves that barged in though, but Ulfric Stormcloak?! He trotted in like he owned the place, head held high.

Rikke and the other soldiers took position in front of Tullius. "You have no right to be here, Ulfric! What is the meaning of this?!" spoke the general.

Two of the Machine's couriers, in civilian garb, were making conversation between some pillars at the entrance to Dragonsreach when Ulfric came in. Another stood idly by the Talos statue down below. A fourth hunkered down in a cave outside the city walls, ready to perform the black sacrament if given the order. They were ready to contact any of the guildmasters after the meeting, should the Machine desire it.

 

[Raimei]

Dakiin observed as the leaders conversed, the hood of her navy cloak still upon her white hair, her pale ears poked through. They were pierced multiple times with gemstones blue and grey, her irises were pale blue. Her whole palette was blue or white. Some may have considered it boring to keep to a colour coded look, but this was the way of the Snow Elves. She was somewhat glad she slipped past unnoticed, now tiptoeing towards a chair in the corner of the huge room, a small table with a bowl of unknown food next to it. Green and spherical, modern folk would know that these were mere apples, but the Elf had never seen them before. Her stomach rumbled, but she wouldn't risk anything. She'd go hunting when she could get the chance. But not now. All of these people we're somewhat new to her. An unknown subspecies. All she'd ever seen was elves. These were like them, only with different ears and changed complexions and tones of colours. The one called 'Ulfric' was getting the most negative attention, coincidentally, he had the flag of the guards she traveled with on his back. Glad that no one had saw her yet, she continued to watch.

 

[Ruko]

"My business here is my own. I would ask you to mind your own, but I know your type aren't very good at that." He turned away, and assumed his seat.

 

[State Of Bedlam]

"I don't know how a person can be so dense," Tullius responded, flabergasted. "This is a private meeting, and I did not invite you. It is that simple. If you intend to keep your head on your neck, I suggest you walk right back through that door."

"Who told him about the meeting?" Tullius thought. "Someone in one of these guilds must be a Stormcloak sympathizer."

 

[The Great Me!]

It was at that point which Faulklin let out a dry little laugh, straightening up in his seat slightly.

"Looks like both Legion and Stormcloaks remembered to invite everyone but each other, like the typical competant forces they are," he mused aloud sarcastically, sounding almost hopeful at the idea of the tension escalating and heads truly rolling. He gave Nazir a glare as the Redguard cleared his throat in warning, the teen rolling his single eye.

"What my colleague here means to say, is; it seems both sides seem to have come to similar arrangements of meeting, coincidentally on the same day, no less, and for what reason I'm sure will be made clear to us soon enough."

Despite that he said it as though ignorant to the reason for the arrangment, he knew full well why both Legion and Stormcloak had summoned them, and he had reason to suspect at least some of the representatives from other guilds had come to the same conclusion with how recent events had been unfolding.

 

[Raimei]

Dakiin continued to sit and observe the earless elves as their argument heated up, keeping her head held up by resting her chin on her palm. Her anxiety began to grow as she watched a guard walk towards her, he wore the Whiterun sigil on his chest. "We don't want any trouble miss but only invited members can stay inside Dragonsreach at this moment, I'll have to ask you to leave. If you have buisness with the Jarl you can see him after." Without hesitation Dakiin nodded gently ad got up, slipping past the people once more and exiting the palace. She didn't know what to do, the most reliable source would probably be the Jarl, maybe. She sat on the edge of the rail-less stone bridge which lead to the main doors, dangling her feet over the water whilst she waited.

 

[State Of Bedlam]

As the snow elf was shooed out of the longhouse, one of the couriers in the entrance pulled out a communication orb and spoke into it. "Sir, I think a snow elf just walked out of here." There is silence for a moment. The voice of the machine answered. "Are you sure?"

"I'm... pretty sure," the courier responded. "Pretty sure doesn't cut it. Was it a snow elf or not?!"

"It was a snow elf, I'm sure of it. I don't even think she was a vampire."

---

The courier down by the Talos shrine was startled by a message through her orb. "Machine to courier twenty three,"

"I copy," she responded.

"Did you see a snow elf leave Dragonsreach?" the machine asked. The courier racked her brain for a moment.

"No, I did not. Could it be up by the doors still?" she asked. "Go check," was the machine's command.

The courier went up the steps to see a hooded figure sitting on the bridge, dangling her feet over the water. Feet white as snow.

"Hello? Ma'am?" the courier asked her.

 

[Raimei]

Dakiin jumped slightly as a female voice broke the silence around her, she looked up to see a young woman. Another earless elf.

"Y-yes?" Dakiin replied as she stood up.

 

[State Of Bedlam]

The courier took out her communication orb and said "She's sitting right in front of me. No one else is in earshot,"

The voice of the machine bellowed from the orb. It's deep, sing-song bass was at once soothing and commanding, yet at the same time it somehow almost sounded like the inner workings of a dwemer construct buzzing and clicking away. The voice of the machine, truly, was a force to behold. He spoke thusly:

"I AM THE MACHINE,"

"Are you, as I have been told, a snow elf?"

 

[Ruko]

A clap of thunder boomed overhead, and a flash of light caused Alkroz to swerve around it. The air was cold here, but nothing a swarm of bats couldn't handle. Next stop: Whiterun...