CLOSED SIGNUPS The Elder Scrolls: The Summerset Wolf

Discussion in 'GROUP RP IN CHARACTER' started by Applo, Jul 29, 2016.

  1. OOC

    22nd of Sun’s Dawn
    The Palace of Kings
    Ulfric & Delphine

    Gloom lay over the ancient city of Windhelm just as heavily as the winter storm clouds that brought fresh layers of snow and ice. Where once the city had thronged with residents and visitors going about their business at all hours now the streets were empty spare the groups of ill-tempered soldiers patrolling the streets for curfew breakers.

    Delphine looked down on the city and watched as ball of light made its way through the streets, following its progress until it disappeared round a corner. Turning her back to the window she stared at the room’s other occupant whom she noticed seemed able to live a far more opulent life than his citizens.

    “Here’s the rub Ulfric” she started “I have no desire to hand you some great elvish weapon and now that I have this information what’s to stop me from sending my own men after it instead of assisting your selection of criminal thugs to find it.”

    The Jarl let out a short laugh before answering “While it’s true I want you to break these people out of my dungeons, brainless thugs they are not. They are people who with suitable direction could do real good for this land. Anyway as I understand it from my spies you are barely able to spare the man power to hunt a deer.”

    Ulfric took a moment to watch Delphine squirm before continuing. “Would you credit me with not being a fool Delphine, if my men were able to uncover the existence of a closely guarded Thalmor secret is it beyond reason I could know how thinly stretched your blades are. Frankly I’m a little surprised that you felt able to spare the time to see me. As to your concern over the fate of the weapon, I would never ask something as crass as you handing it over to me. Destroy the thing, all I’d ask is proof of its existence, when the people learn of the concordat’s true treachery the Imperial’s support will fade and they will have to sue for peace.”

    Delphine took a long deep drink from the tankard in her hands to stall for time as she thought. The man was not the idiot she had supposed and in fact had played her like a damned fool. He’d offered just the right bait and terms to draw her in before she realised what was happening. She knew she didn’t have the resources at her command to do anything with this information and at the same time she couldn’t just ignore it. Reluctantly she came to the conclusion she would have accept the insufferable oaf’s proposition, she just hoped there would be some way to spin the situation to her advantage.

    “Very well Ulfric, you have a deal” she spat “I’ll help your prisoners find and destroy this thing and you’ll get your proof. As for the breakout I have a few ideas on how to do such a thing, I should be ready in about 2 weeks. Now if that is everything then you’ll excuse me, I suddenly feel a powerful urge to go and wash.”

    “Yes yes, very good. I’m glad we could reach an understanding.” Ulfric said waving his hand dismissively. Some while after Delphine had left the room a thought occurred to the Jarl. Two weeks’ time was more or less the First Planting festival wasn’t it? “Hmmm how funny” he said to the room in general “maybe the nine are looking kindly on this.”

    7th of First Seed
    The Palace of Kings dungeons
    Cynric Endall


    Cynric Endall paced around the inside of his ignoring the screaming inside his head, he’d sworn he wouldn’t do anything like this again after the last time, but someone had approached the Guild and they had turned to him. His only small comfort was that hopefully if it all went wrong they come and get him, right, RIGHT?

    Trying to calm himself he ran his fingers through his knotted hair, lingering over the particularly dense bit where he had tied six lock picks to his scalp. In theory this should be more than enough but with all the pressure that was on him he had felt like having all the spares he could.

    “What time is it? He asked as the jailer walked past

    The jailer sighed, this prisoner had only been here a two days but was persistent in asking and it was just easier to tell him. “It’s about five hours to dawn prisoner, now I’d suggest you do like you compatriots here and sleep, you all face the jarl in the morning.”

    Cynric thanked the guard and watched him disappear deeper into the dungeon. When he was confident the no one was watching he slowly began to unwind a lock pick from his hair. Crouching down by his cell door he reached through the bars and felt blindly for the key hole. Gently he eased the rake and tension wrench into the lock before feeling for the pins, when he thought he had them all he started to rotate the wrench only to be met with a mettalic crack.

    “Shit” he whispered reaching for a second pick, this time he went even slower teasing the pins into place. Once he was sure they were all seated he twisted the lock. For a heart wrenching second the lock held for a moment and then he was rewarded with the sound of the bolt sliding across before the door swung open.

    Relief surged through his body followed by waves of confidence. He was good at this, he had plenty of spare picks, this would be easy, and he’d be back in the flagon soon enough, drinking and laughing with the rest of the guild. Stepping across the hallway from his cell he began working the locks on to the rest of the doors on the corridor and before long every cell door had swung open. As heads started to appear round doorways he held a finger to his lip

    “The guard will come back through here in a few minutes. Anything you had with you when you were arrested should be somewhere in that room" Cynric said pointing to a doorway at the end of the corridor. "You should have just enough time to grab your things and go without the guards catching you. There's a boat waiting for you at the docks, it flying a red flag. I'd suggest you hurry or you won’t have many options about how this goes.”

    With his words of instruction given the theif turned on his heels and ran, he'd only been paid to get these prisoners out of the cells, the rest of the escape was up to them.​
     
    #1 Applo, Jul 29, 2016
    Last edited: Jul 31, 2016
  2. 7th of First Seed
    The Palace of Kings dungeons
    Victoria Gunnarsdotter


    When her cell door scraped open Tor didn’t move, instead waiting to be seized and dragged away by the guards. She was going to be executed, she knew this. It was the only the only possible explanation for why after months of festering in the dungeon she had suddenly been moved to this new cell near the surface. Presumably now the guards would take her before the Jarl for him to pass sentence on her. When nothing seemed to happen curiosity took hold and opening her eye she saw that there was no one looming over her, just an open door. Peering round the doorway Tor saw a handful of other prisoners emerging from cells.

    “The guard will come back through here in a few minutes. Anything you had with you when you were arrested should be somewhere in that room. You should have just enough time to grab your things and go without the guards catching you. There's a boat waiting for you at the docks, it flying a red flag. I'd suggest you hurry or you won’t have many options about how this goes.”

    As her liberator stole away into darkness, fire roared through her veins and she found herself running for the room the man had pointed at without any hesitation. Once inside the large storage room Tor didn’t bother looking for the things she had owned when she was imprisoned. There hadn’t been anything special to her and anyway it had mostly been Stormcloak issue. Instead she contented herself with sifting through the boxes of flotsam until she found stuff she was happy with.

    She pulled on a blood caked mail shirt and then a set of hide armor, fixing both in place with a belt before ripping the tattered fabric off her feet and slipping them into a pair of beautifully soft fur lined boots. On one hip she placed small steel dagger, on the other an iron sword that still had a decent edge and across her back she fasten a quiver steel arrows.
    As Tor worked her fingers into a pair of gloves she studied her new compatriots. A skinny dark haired imperial held her attention. She felt like she knew his face even if she couldn’t put a name to it. As for the rest of the group, they looked competent enough but she wasn’t prepared to let her freedom rest in their hands. And so making as much noise as she dared Tor tried to get the whole groups attention.

    “I have no idea what happening here but I do know that our best hope for freedom lies that way” she said pointing to a flight of stairs on the opposite side of the room. “If we a quick enough we might just get out of here. What say you?”
     
  3. 7th of First Seed
    The Palace of Kings dungeons
    Ennoc

    Patience, patience and meditation, that was all Ennoc could muster while in his little, icy cell. He had hidden his destruction magic skills for the time being seeing as they wouldn't do him much good as long as the iron bars on his cell remained shut, so he waited until they weren't. If his sentence ended than that was that and this little intermission in his quest for knowledge would end, but if they wanted to execute him, then they would see what tricks he held secret.

    Much to his surprise, when the gate finally did open, there were no set of guards waiting to drag him to the execution block, nor a lone guard telling him to go, but rather a silent little thief picking his lock and flinging open the rusted door. A trick? No, why would they bother.
    Slowly, but confidently, he emerged from his cell only to see that he wasn't the only one the jailbreaker set loose.

    “The guard will come back through here in a few minutes. Anything you had with you when you were arrested should be somewhere in that room. You should have just enough time to grab your things and go without the guards catching you. There's a boat waiting for you at the docks, it flying a red flag. I'd suggest you hurry or you won’t have many options about how this goes.”

    A strange situation indeed, though not an unwelcome one. Ennoc would see how this would play out, perhaps not out of necessity as much as curiosity, after all, no one breaks out a group of prisoners and sets up transportation for giggles and laughter.

    The mage quickly rushed into the room his liberator pointed at and collected his possessions, luckily for him he didn't need to bother with platemail or leather armor so he was quickly set up. The benefits of travelling light must never be underestimated. As he waited for his newly found "companions" to finish getting ready he examined them closely. Most, if not all, appeared to be most proficient in close-quarters combat, which was good for Ennoc as he now had a choice selection of meat shields if worse came to worse.

    "unless we're planning on staying, then I suggest we get moving. There won't be a second chance if we get spotted too early." He had been sitting on his ass for too long, so was it any surprise that his patience ran out the moment his cell door opened.
     
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  4. 7th of First Seed
    The Palace of Kings Dungeons
    Logan ey Ravensbourne

    Logan opened his eyes slowly at the sound of a chink in the door. He couldn't process exactly what was happening in that moment, except the fact that his door was opening. The first thought that appeared in his mind is that he was soon to be executed, but there weren't any guards dragging him from his cell, nor was there anyone trying to break in to murder him in his sleep. It was just one man, unlocking all of the cells one by one.

    "The guard will come back through here in a few minutes. Anything you had with you when you were arrested should be somewhere in that room. You should have just enough time to grab your things and go without the guards catching you. There's a boat waiting for you at the docks, it flying a red flag. I'd suggest you hurry or you won’t have many options about how this goes."

    Standing, he slowly followed the other inmates out of the cells and towards the room that the man had indicated towards. Once he entered the room, he quickly began opening boxes, one by one, until he found the box his possessions were in. As he began to dress himself in his robes, he noticed a dark-haired woman's gaze fall on him, and then slowly looked up, frowning. He only spent a second looking at her, before turning his attention back to his own belongings. He felt a strange sense of familiarity about that woman, but he didn't want to address it now. It wasn't the time.

    "I don't know about you," Logan muttered to the pair that had spoken, lifting his sword and walking towards the flight of stairs. "But I haven't got time to talk."
     
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  5. 7th of First Seed
    The Palace of Kings Dungeons
    Vruk Grognak

    Vruk was snoring loudly when the door to his cell opened. He woke up when he heard a voice speak softly from the outside. "The guard will come back through here in a few minutes. Anything you had with you when you were arrested should be somewhere in that room. You should have just enough time to grab your things and go without the guards catching you. There's a boat waiting for you at the docks, it flying a red flag. I'd suggest you hurry or you won’t have many options about how this goes."

    Poking his head out of his cell, Vruk saw several other prisoners enter the storage room. Shrugging to himself, he followed them inside. Watching everyone grab their gear and equipment, Vruk laughed softly when saw where his armor and battleaxe and been stowed. Unlike all the other clothes, Vruk's large armor was too big to fit inside a regular chest, so it had unceremoniously been thrown in a heap on the floor in a corner. Walking over, he took a minute to don his gear and hefted his battleaxe. "Damn milk drinkers cant even find the strength to put away my armor. Nobody in this city appreciates good craftsmanship." He then followed the man with the sword towards the stairwell and to freedom.
     
  6. 7th of First Seed
    The Palace of Kings dungeons
    Brollius Umbione

    Somehow, even after this, the young man was most likely going to enjoy a drink when freedom presents itself. After all, freedom is a cause for celebration. Celebration is a cause for drink. The logic was flawless and it made him chuckle. What quickly washed the expression away was the sight of someone cracking open his cell door and telling him to get to a boat with a red flag. Brollius raised an eyebrow and watched as the lock breaker disappeared into the dark. Doesn't a rescued damsel have to kiss their savior? Well, thankfully, this wasn't the case this time around. He leaned his head out, looking about the other inmates. They certainly all seemed to be much more intimidating individuals than he. Sure he has a Nord looking beard and good size, but he was walking, rumbling orc or a face painted warrior.

    Casually whistling, he moved over to the chests and looked into see which one had his things. A big smile appeared on his face when he spotted the lute. "Good." Gathering his things, a blink and stare was given to the...rather attractive looking Nord who was trying to rally the troops into storming the dark and get onto the boat as no one had ever boarded a big brown boat before. He knew a thing or two about lighting fires under the rumps of crowds, but it seemed that the others seemed content to just brush her off and make a break for it. Understandable, but he did feel compelled to at least respond to them.

    "I say you may want to save the speech for another time, for we have a meeting with a boat. I also say you should come with us, as you look like a capable fighter and don't need to let your beauty or sword arm rot in here." He smiled and beckoned her, hoping she would at least know he meant well. With that he starts to move towards her suggested exit.
     
  7. Victoria Gunnarsdotter

    Tor stood for a moment and watched the backs of the other prisoners disappear into the gloomy half light of the stair well she had pointed out. While her words seemed to have had the desired effect, she couldn’t help but feel that there had been better received rallying calls and they had been given by giants. The sound of a skeever in the corner of the room jolted her back to reality and she set of after her fellow prisoners.

    Running up the stairs as quickly as she could whilst making the least amount of noise possible although Tor caught up with the group and she realised the she needn’t have bothered. For the most part her fellow escapee seemed worryingly inept at moving quietly although the imperial that had caught her attention before seemed to have some skill. As Tor passed them she shot the worst offenders a scowl with a finger held to her lips and hoped that they would take heed, she had been in those dungeons to long for some lead footed fool to mess up this chance for her.

    The corridor at the top of the stairwell was much darker than the storage room or even the cells had been. The sconces that were meant to provide light had been allowed to burn out so that the only light was being cast by the dying fire in the great hall through the archway at the far end of the passage. When she was happy that there no guards lurking in the shadows, she motioned for the rest of the group to follow her and began to slowly work her way along the corridor.

    “What proof do you have of this?”

    Tor broke out in a cold sweat at the sound of the voice and approaching footsteps emanating from the great hall. Silently cursing her luck she flattened her self against the wall before edging towards the archway.

    “None I-I-I’m afraid master Lorgeir” said a second much meeker voice. “All I know is what he mumbles when has emptied several mugs of mead. It’s always the same, that the rebellion will begin anew today. F-f-for the last couple of weeks it has been like this.”

    There was sound of a cork being pulled from a bottle before the voice that must’ve have belonged to Lorgeir spoke again. “Hmm very well Norilas, I shall relay your information to my masters but you had better hope it’s not just the rambling of a foolish drunk I will tell them about. They tend to look poorly on people who fail them. If you get any more solid information send it with a courier to the inn in Morthal addressed to Tommen.” There was a short silence ended by the sound of spraying liquid. “God’s curse these fucking Nords, who the hell put juniper in mead, the disgusting bastards.”

    After the large door of the great hall slammed shut Norilas let out a sigh, begged forgiveness from Talos and then stalked out of the hall, flashing through the limited field of vision afforded to Tor by the archway. She hesitated for a moment after the sound footsteps had died away before beckoning the group into the great hall. The large tables were covered in the debris left over from the previous evening’s meal. Having spent the last couple of months living on gruel even the sight of the leftover scraps had her mouth-watering and she grabbed a lump of bread and bottle of mead off the table, pocketing both before also snatching a half-eaten chicken leg.

    “When we go through these doors this gets a whole lot harder, if any of you have the burning urge to exchange pleasantries now’s the time, you can call me Tor.” She said in between bites of the chicken leg. "From what I’ve heard since Riften was lost half the Stormcloak army is garrisoned in the city. Hopefully they’ll mostly be in a drunken stupor by now but there will probably be some guarding the docks at least. As for how we get there I have no preferences but I suspect that the entrance to the grey quarter by Candle-hearth hall might be the easiest route.” Leaving her fellow prisoners to sort themselves out she strolled over to the great doors and waited.

    After a while the other joined Tor and she swung open the doors just wide enough to allow her to squeeze through. As she crept into the courtyard the cold air made her hair stand on end and brought a smile to her face. Moving away from the door she moved into the deep shadows cast by the fires on pillars along the centre of the courtyard and examined the scene in front of her. There seemed to be three soldiers standing around the furthest fire warming their hands and talking loudly amongst themselves.

    "Well the quick route is through those three. I think we should rush them but if any of you won’t we could chance the other route” she whispered back to the others whilst point to a dark archway on the far side of the courtyard. “It’s a much longer route but we might not have to fight through it.”
     
  8. Vruk Grognak

    Vruk scoffed at the idea of going the long way around simply to avoid a little brawl. "I say you leave those three to me, I can take them out quickly without any of your help.I detest the idea of skulking around in the dark like a bunch of thieves." He grunted and hefted his battleaxe and looked around at the small group. It certainly was not his preferred choice of company. Most of them looked like they would run at the chance of a fight and the few that looked tough enough simply didn't seem to show the fighting spirit that most orcs have.
     
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  9. Brollius Umbione

    He stayed with the group the best he could. It wasn't long before they made a quick pit stop and their self-elected Nord leader had started in on the grub left here by the guards. She had the right idea. Even a day of jail is one too many. As they grabbed food, the possibly alcoholic bard pocketed some berries and nuts before chowing down on a sweetroll and some cooked beef. Drowning it with a quite large swig of wine, he stifled himself with an unexpected belch that he tried to keep to himself. Quietly, he excused himself and gave a nod to the equally hungry Nord. "Brollius is the name, and music is the game." He said, with a widened, dimpled smile. They group might not be together very long, but he didn't see any reason not to greet them.

    Now that he had a moment to really take stock of the group he was traveling with. Warriors types mostly, with a man...who was most likely either a mage or a talker, based on his dress. Nevertheless, this loose coalition aimed to get out of here and escape in the boat. Quite an adventure fit for a man of his exploits.

    When it was time to move on, they slipped into a nice, cool courtyard and seemed to be given a choice of routes. As he weighed the options, of course the more martial of the group felt the best was to play to their own strength. Fair enough, but the bard thought to suggest a different course of action.

    "And I detest the idea that the only route that satisfies you is one that requires senseless loss of life. Sure there are three guards there. Hell, I could even handle them. However, with the risk to our escape with the noises your fighting would make, I would rather take the route that doesn't add to our sentence if we end up caught. Because, if you attack them, it won't be back to cell with you. It will be to kill on sight. If that is how you want to go down, then that is okay. I'll be using your muscle bound shenanigans as a distraction as I preserve my freedom by going the other way. These men don't deserve your ire just for doing their jobs. There will be plenty of time for fighting later, now is not the time."

    Brollius takes out a berry and flips it in the air and it lands in his mouth. At this point, he was determined to take the path that didn't have bloodshed. There is enough of that in the world with nations dispensing out justice to those whom they deem worthy, without a group of convicts taking down some men at the wrong place, at the wrong time. And the bard wasn't about to ruin what good name he has left by jumping the criminal totem pole from delightful shenanigans to attempted murder.
     
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  10. As they left the storeroom, Ennoc silently snuck in between several other escapees to ensure there was a body before him and at his back, that way he ensured a solid meatshield to protect him should worse come to worse. Most of them looked capable enough, if a bit dimwitted, especially the orc. With any luck the big, green oaf could at least take a beating for he didn't seem good enough for anything else.

    Once at the main hall, the group suddenly stopped for whatever reason, Ennoc didn't seem to care much. Most of the eyes were fixated on the front, so he gazed behind to see if they weren't being trailed. Soon enough the party began to move once more and into the great hall they went. The dark mage already had a feeling many of his "companions" were mindless brutes, after all most of the ranks were filled with NOrds and Orcs, but their arrival near the banquet table basically confirmed his suspicions. The moment they saw food, they dove right in gorging on what was left behind by better men, or at least men who believed themselves to be better. Ennoc had hoped the Imperials would at least show some restraint, but as it turned out one them was the worst of all, stuffing his face before washing it away with way too much alcohol for someone to drink during a prison break.

    When the barbarians had finally satiated their base needs and were finally willing to go on, their self-chosen Nord leader suggested they'd introduce themselves. Ennoc on the other hand found it difficult to care less about socialising with people of their stature. Instead he held his tongue and simply followed as they sortied out of the palace and into the cold winds of Skyrim.

    Outside however they stumbled over their first problem namely the three guards posted at the courtyard. The options were there as to what they could do, but the truth was the entire situation was less than optimal. The Orc thirsted for battle, a surprise to no one, while the overly chatty Imperial advised restraint and stealth. "There's no guarantee that we won't come across more patrolling guards if we take the long route, not to mention that the longer we're in the city the more chance there is of our escape being discovered and setting the city in an uproar. Once that happens the gates will lock and the port flood with guards. Our fastest way is through them, skulk in the shadows if that's what you prefer Imperial, but blood will melt the snow this night whether you like it or not, so best to have it be on our terms."
     
    #10 caligari, Aug 22, 2016
    Last edited: Aug 22, 2016
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  11. "You'd better get ready, you green eejit, for I'm expecting you to do the only thing your kind is good at and kill whoever is left standing." Ennoc hissed to the Orc before he rose and made each of his hands grab the opposite forearm. Slowly he moved his palms toward each other as he mumbled incantations to himself almost unheard for anyone else. When his palms finally met sparks flew off his hands and increased in number up until his hands finally let go and created an arc of lightning between them. With a flick of his arm the dark mage channelled the spell through the air and toward the three guards. "chain lightning" he said with a soft tone to no one but himself and an instant later the spell made impact.

    Chain lightning is good for crowd control, but it lacks the concentrative power of an ice spear or the devastating impact of a fireball. Still, it was perfect for this task as it sought out its own target. The first one to get hit was the unluckiest one of the three as he got the hardest blow; the lightning hit his shoulder and the build up in pressure was too much for his veins to bear causing the entirety of his right arm to boil with superheated blood from the inside out. He wasn't going to use that arm much, if at all, even if he would survive. The second one learned the hard way that metal conducts electricity as the spell didn't so much injure him as it was absorbed by his chain mail, causing it to heat up and turn his armour into an oven. He was lucky that he wore clothing underneath most of it, protecting him from getting burns all over his torso, but the parts that directly touched skin got a unique new pattern of burns to be added to his tattoos as decoration on his person. By the time the spell hit the third guard it had already lost most of its power and coursed through his body without making much damage, the only good thing about it was the fact that when hit with lightning, muscles tense up causing the guards mouth to be forced shut. He wouldn't be calling for help at least.

    "Prove to me your kind is worthy of land in Daggerfall, beast, and kill them!"
     
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  12. Vruk watched as the mage zapped the guards with lightning and consequently told him to kill them. "I will not kill them simply because you demand so mage. To kill an opponent who has already been weakened would be shameful and cowardly." Vruk huffed in annoyance and drew his club as he strode over to the disoriented guards. "Apologies, i wish this could have been a fair fight." The first guard Vruk went after was the last guard who was hit by the lightning. Before the man could even draw his sword, Vruk had smashed him over the head causing him to pass out. The second guard who had gotten burned by the lightning tried to rush Vruk while his back was turned. Vruk simply side stepped and tripped the guard, causing him to fall to the ground. Before he could get up, Vruk walked over and stomped his head into the cobblestone. The guard who had taken the brunt of the lightning was simply laying on the ground bleeding out as Vruk stood over him. "Tis a pity you were defeated by cowardly magic." He bent down and tied a gag around the guard's mouth as he put a rag in the man's free hand. "You can either hold the rag to your arm to slow the bleeding or untie the gag and bleed out while you yell for help." He then stood up and walked back over to the group of escapees. "The path is now clear. Lets move before the next patrol comes."
     
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  13. As the sparks flew from the mages hand Tor began the rush towards the guards only to find herself pulled backwards. She felt herself land against someone before a hand clamped down hard over her mouth. For a moment she struggled against her unseen attacker but stopped when something sharp pressed into her back.

    “Good girl Victoria” the voice of the familiar imperial said in a rushed whisper. “I don’t know what’s happening here but I’m not being a part of it and you’re going to help me get out of here.” Now the voice in Tor’s ear took on an even more vicious tone. “Before you get any ideas about not helping me you had better be really sure you can kill me, because if you don’t do what I say and I survive I’ll make sure my friends hunt down that little harpy of a sister, what was her name, Cerys wasn’t it”

    At the mention of her sisters name the red hot rage that had been building in her was doused and replace by wild rampaging fear and clearly the imperial could sense it.

    “Good, it seems you traitorous Nords do have your uses, now run for the city gates, I’ll be right behind you”

    Those last three words spelt trouble in Tor’s mind just as surely as the howl of a sabre cat but she couldn’t worry about that. The imperial bastard pushed her back on to her feet just after the orc announced his victory and Tor didn’t dare hesitate for a second, exploding past the orc and over the bodies of the three guards before flying down the steps into the city square.

    Sprinting onwards past candle hearth hall she saw a guard flash by and some shouting but the sound of her heart in her ears drowned out the words. Rounding the corner of the hall she saw the gates wide open, a portal into the world the she dreamed of for so long before suddenly two guards appeared from either side of the gate swords drawn.

    Skidding to a stop Tor just managed to drawn her sword only to feel herself being launched forwards onto the cobbles, the sword flying from her hand as something hit her square in the back. In the moments of turbid confusion after landing the shouting that had been background noise until now became clear.

    “ESCAPED PRISONER, GET HER!”
     
    #13 Applo, Sep 8, 2016
    Last edited: Sep 9, 2016
  14. "Our terms? Mine don't include assault on those attempting to keep this place safe from people like us." He scoffed before taking off into the other direction. If the man wants to fire first that is his prerogative, but Brollius had a more stubborn moral compass than that. Before he even got to the archway, a spell had been fire off and the guard had been caught with their tunics up. At least they weren't able to scream as the terrible pain of bolt of lightning hit your body like an orc with a spiked gauntlet. The blue flashed and he knew it was time to get moving. He felt terrible for the guards. There was more shouting and fighting that he could not make out, as he was heading into the darkness. While not the best sneaking, it would hard to see anything else when focused on a group of escaped convicts attacking guards with weapons and magic. It would be a surprize if anyone else even noticed him.

    "Damn."

    It seemed Brollious had thought too soon as two guards were still posted at the gate, instead of dealing with the more immediate threat. Perhaps, it was to block their escape. That made sense, at least.

    Thinking quickly, he looked around his environment. Spotting a hoe and a rack of cloth beside a shop, the idea formed in his head. Working the metal tool apart and ripping the least elegant cloth carefully, he had a makeshift cloak and a walking stick. Now to add to his impromptu disguise. A limp? That could work.

    His eyes widened as a pile of dung caught his nostrils just a few feet away. Horses were such majestic creatures. Upon retrieval, he generously used the cloth to pick it up and rub it against different spot on the cloak. Now he was a proper nomadic git with a limp, and was good at getting himself into deep shit.

    He then threw the cloak over himself and it was ripe. They would surely smell him before they saw him. The horse likely ate a lot of corn.

    Limping his way into sight, Brollius made his way to the guards at the gate. "H-H-Hail, sir and madam." He said "A little lat-" The male guard spoke but then coughed."What happened? Did you come from The Ratway? You smell like horseshit." Said the second guard. "N-N-N-no madam. I would not associate my-m-myself with such filth. I may smell like a farm, but I earn my li-l-living. In fact, I am just trying to make my way to the docks. It is getting late and I n-n-n-need to get home to my children."

    The first guard had his hand over his mouth and looked to the second and shook his head and they parted. "You may pass." "Please take a bath when you get there." "O-o-o-o-of course. Have a nice night, Riften's protectors." Thankfully, he had made it through without a single swing being swung within reach of him. Good thing too, because there was a patrol of four, heavily armored guards heading towards the gate. The hard-heads were getting more and more trouble than it was worth. Brollius tried to tell them. Even with his conviction to stick with his course even if they ended dead, his innate loyalty made him hate himself for not going back. In spite of the fact he didn't know them, they were all in a jail cell for crimes probably far worse than his. At least, that is what he told himself. With that, he limped through the doors and when out of sight, the "cloak" and stick were hidden in an halfway empty barrel of apples. Hopefully, the smell would not follow him.
     
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  15. "You accursed weakling!" Ennoc blared at the Orc, his disappointed rage overtaking every conscious remnant "An Orc with a bleeding heart?! And here I thought your kind couldn't be anymore useless!" With clenched fists and a short incantation the mage created an ice spike in each hand before tossing them through the skulls of the least injured guards. "How did you ever leave your mother's teat, you overgrown child?"

    And with that Ennoc left the Orc behind, his patience with the barely sentient beast had run out and he had better things to do than rely on a bleeding heart to be a proper meatshield. In silent rage and under his breath he cursed himself for believing he could've used the green oaf to punch their way through the disorganized guards, now he had to rely on his wits and skills.

    Limited time made him quicken his pace as he ran out the palace area and past the walls of candlehearth hall. The drunken, Nordic halfwits didn't even realise the fact that something was going on as sounds of drunken ravings and typical Nordic tavern brawls pierced the cold stone of the inn.

    In short time he made it to the gate that lead to the docks and once again he cursed himself and the Orc who was far more trouble than he had any right to be. Four heavily armoured troops stood between him and the gates plus another two archers held vigil atop the archway.
    The four on the ground were the biggest problem: thick steel plating and forged steel, they would not go quickly nor quietly and they were far too many for Ennoc to deal with with Destruction magic alone. The only thing he saw as an option was having them deal with some kind of distraction as he made a run for the docks. He wanted nothing more than to summon a Dremora lord and have the ignorant Nords fight it out with a being from their nightmares, but such a ritual would take way too much of his magicka, magicka he might need later.
    No, he needed something bigger and cheaper, something like... a frost Atronach. The hulking monstrosity of ice could take quite a beating as long as the Nords only knew how to deal physical attacks, which they always only do, and the Daedra is able to heal itself so it could take punishment even longer. That only left the archers; the last the Ennoc wanted was to take an arrow to the back as he bolted for the ships.
    No time, no choice, he'd have to risk it.

    From out of sight he began speaking incantations in the Daedric language as he tore a hole in between the Oblivion planes and Nirn. From the dark void that was created by his even darker spell came a towering monster dragged forth from the coldest pits of Oblivion. Its mere presence caused the already cold air near it to drop even further as it stood gazing at its new master awaiting any order Ennoc would give.
    The necromancer peaked around the corner of his hiding spot at the archers atop the wall, before stepping out and making the motion as though he was about to throw a javalin. The icy weather of Windhelm allowed the spell to be hastened and a few seconds of incantations later a solid ice spear was formed in his hand. With a mighty throw the freezing projectile pierced the air before it pierced the chest of the archer.

    The death of one of their comrades obviously got their attention, but before they could spread out to find the attacker Ennoc ordered his atronach to destroy the guards. The ground shook as the towering Daedra moved from around the corner and headed straight for the four guards at the gates. If they feared the beast it would not last as they collected themselves and ran toward it with drawn weapons and bellowing battle cries.

    The moment the battle was heated enough Ennoc bolted for the gates. If the guards noticed him they didn't care or they realised that if they turned their heads for a second they'd either get spiked by the atronach's spear arm or pommeled by its club. With all his weight Ennoc dashed against the gate but it was far from enough to open the blasted thing. Instead he had to plant his heels and push with all his might to get it to open barely enough for him to slip through.

    But as he was running toward the ships and gloating in his success a piercing pain lodged itself in his shoulder blade as an arrow from the archer lodged itself in the mage's back. The shock made Ennoc trip and tumble down the stair, as if that wasn't bad enough, the tumble cause the arrow to snap sending even more pain across his body and tearing the wound open much more than needed.
     
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  16. Vruk growled at Ennoc as he passed. Getting up he jogged after the mage but was stopped short by the appearance of the frost atronarch. Skirting around the raging battle, Vruk was almost out the gate when he saw Ennoc get hit by an arrow. Looking up he saw the archer looking for anyone else that might attempt to escape. Backing up, Vruk found the stairs up to the rampart and ran up. The archer saw Vruk charging at him but before he could fire off another arrow the orc was on top of him. Vruk simply picked the archer up and tossed him off the wall onto the cobblestone below. Vruk then ran back down and out the gate. Jogging down the steps, Vruk found ennoc sprawled out on the ground with an arrow sticking out of him. "That should teach you to wear decent armor next time mage." Vruk then jogged off towards the waiting boat.
     
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  17. "That should teach you to wear decent armour next time, mage." The damned, green monstrosity growled at him through those overcompensating tusks he called teeth as he raced on by.
    "I swear by all the Aedra and Daedra combined that I'll enjoy killing him before all this is over." Ennoc mumbled to himself as he slowly got to his feet. The arrow stung like a bitch, but he was out of the city, now all he had to do was find a ship sailing beneath a red flag. It proved less than an issue as the red flag stuck out like a sore thumb upon the white backdrop of Skyrim.
    With pain racing across his body he moved up and boarded the ship before planting himself at the base of the main mast and casting a healing spell upon himself. The magic eased the pain, but he had to be careful not to use too much as the arrowhead was still lodged in and the last thing he wanted was for the wound to close over the metal tip, if he wanted to heal proper someone else had to pull it out first.
     
  18. As Tor tried to force the air back into her lungs she was horribly aware of the sound of swords being drawn from their scabbards and of hurried whispers between one of the guards and her blackmailer. Tor looked up from the cobbles just in time to a couple of vials pass between the hands of the imperial and one of the guards.

    “Give a few of those to the men at the other end bridge and tell them Jorrick sent you, they’ll let you pass friend and don’t worry” the guard said turning to look at Tor “we’ll deal with this bitch.”

    With that the imperial turned on his heels and set of at run through the city gates and out of view as Tor staggered to her feet and tried to get a grip on the situation. Jorrick and the other guard were both now facing her, swords at the ready. Looking around she saw her own sword on the cobbles several paces away, for a second she thought about trying to reach it but decided against it. Surely her opponent would expect that and move to strike before she would be in a position to use it. Instead she reached for the dagger on her right hip whilst watching the guard’s eyes and desperately tried to work out how she was going to survive.

    “Don’t worry, you’re not going to die” Jorrick laughed, seemingly able to read her thoughts “at least not strait away. The Jarl will want to know how you manged to escape and he isn’t to fussy about how we go about finding that sort of thing out”

    He paused for a moment and looked Tor up and down.

    “Yes I’m sure we could find quite a few lads who’ be eager to interrogate you.”

    With this both guards began to close the gap between themselves and Tor, occasionally testing her with their swords. A couple of times she lashed out wildly with her blade to force them back but as soon as one retreated the other would step closer. She quickly came to the realisation that not only were they better equipped they were also much better swordsmen than she was. Whilst she was able to dodge or parry most of the blows some slipped by her guard. The first by sheer luck skittered off the chainmail sleeve that covered the tops of her arms while on the second blow the very tip of the blade caught Tor just above her left eye, it wasn’t more than a flesh wound but her eyebrow was soon dripping with blood.

    Tor’s brain scrambled for anything that would help but every time it came back to the fact that there was two of them. They could take it in turns to toy with her until she was too tired to hold a sword dodge anymore and then move in to kill her or worse. She had to take one of them down now or she didn’t even have a hope.

    Sparks flew from the cobblestones as Tor dodged an advance from the nameless guard before she manged to drive him back with a vicious kick to the knee. Before the man was able to recover his composition Tor grabbed a handful of arrows from her quiver and launched them strait at the man. As the soldier batted the flying arrows to the cobbles Tor ran and leapt at Jorrick with all the strength her legs could muster. She hung in the air for what felt like eternity, her mouth open in a scream of noiseless defiance, dagger in out stretched arm. With surprising and dread inspiring speed Jorrick dropped his blade and lifted both arm above his head, almost catching Tor as she fell towards him, using her moment to throw her into a wall.

    She felt the crunch as the quiver on her back shattered from the impact against the wall and heard the skittering of steel on stone as the arrows bounced away over the floor. A fraction of a second too late instinct told her to move and pain exploded down Tor’s right flank as a blade slashed down her side tearing through the hide and mail amour, leaving a deep gash. Her scream was barely more than a pitiful whimper, her lungs being near empty from colliding with the wall moments before.

    Gasping for air she manged to pull herself up on to her hands and knees before a boot smashed into her stomach which rolled her over onto her back. A second kick hit the hand with the dagger, causing the little blade to fly a couple of meters before burying itself into a pile of snow.

    Tor just about manged to prop herself upright against the wall when she felt something narrow and sharp under her hand and the cold touch of steel under her chin. The blade pushed upwards against her chin until her eye were drawn level with those of Jorrick, whose malicious smile was at the other end of the sword.

    “I’m not sure we’ll bother interrogating you, now I look at you properly I don’t think it’s worth the hassle of Storm Cloak men to spend any time on you” Jorrick panted “not pretty, brave or good at fighting, what kind of nord are you. You’re a disgrace to everything I’m fighting to protect. Really I’m doing your ancestors a favour putting you down you little bitch.”

    Jorrick paused for a moment to laugh then drew the sword back for the final strike. Recognising her only chance and with a silent prayer to Talos, Tor struck. Her hand came up and round as she thrust the arrowhead into the side of Hendrik’s knee before pulling it back out again. Hendrik let out a bellow of pain and his sword was flung to one side in an attempt to balance as his leg started to give way. As he fell Tor thrust the arrow head up towards the underside of his mouth with both hands and this combined with the weight of his falling body was enough to drive the steel head up through his mouth and into his brain.

    For an instant the world was completely still, then Jorrick’s lifeless body toppled sideway, crashing into the floor. Tor knew not to wait and she screamed as she leapt to her feet, the movement causing the gash on her side to tear further. Cupping her injured side with a hand she saw the glint of steel as the other soldier managed to redraw his sword. Gritting her teeth she began to run, pain searing across her body with each jarring impact as she sprinted towards the city gates.

    She was barely onto the bridge when a shout of “ARCHERS!” rang out and seconds later arrows started to clatter off the cobbles around her. Putting her head down Tor began to zig zag back and forth across the bridge to try and throw of the archers shots but when she glanced up again she was stopped in her tracks. Between her and the far end of the bridge was a line of slowly advancing soldiers, shields and swords at the ready.

    An arrow buried it’s self into her shoulder, knocking her to the ground before she snapped out of the daze and scuttled into one of the alcove the in the bridges walls. She leaned head first against the wall and let out a single sob. This was it. There was no way she could fight her way past the soldiers, the wound on her side was oozing blood that had soaked through the chain and hide armour and was dripping down her leg, anyway she doubted if she had enough strength to lift a sword, even if she had had one. She let out another sob as the noise of the soldier boots got closer and then looked out over the moon lit water when suddenly she saw her way out.

    Looking towards the dock she could see a ship with a red flag, that was what the man back in the cells had said to make for and there was still one way she could get to it. Peering over the side of the bridge caused her stomach to drop for a moment but she steeled herself as best she could. Come on she willed herself dying trying to escape has got to be better than dying by their swords here or being taken back to a cell to lose my head later. It wasn’t the most reassuring thought she’d ever had but it would have to do.

    “Please stop, I yield, I YIELD” Tor cried out as she saw a head poke round the archway. “I don’t have any weapons, please, please don’t kill me.”

    “Okay then nice and easy take off your armour and toss out here” said the head that kept glancing round the arch.

    Tor undid the belt then went to tug the armour off over her head when a pain from her shoulder stopped her. The armour was pulling at the arrow head. Grimacing she pulled the armour over her head as hard as she could and let out a cry when the arrow was ripped out, taking a chunk of flesh with it. After she threw out the armour the soldier pulled away from the edge of the arch and turned to face her sword and shield still ready.

    “Good, now get on your knees and keep those hands where I can see them” he barked

    Tor backed away from him and in a moment that had nothing to do with trying to escape burst into uncontrolled sobbing.

    “I SAID GET ON YOUR KNEES” the soldier shouted.

    Tor kept edging backwards still sobbing and climbed onto the parapet of the bridge.

    “YOU DON’T WANT TO DIE? THEN GET DOWN FROM THE RIGHT NOW YOU STUPID LITTLE…”

    Tor saw the man eyes widen with shock as she deliberately stepped backwards of the parapet and began to fall. Closing her eyes, she took one deep breath and let her mind fill with images the sister she might never see again.

    Smashing into the water caused her various wound to erupt anew with pain of even greater intensity than before and the cold water tore at her ripping the breath from her lungs. After a struggle the seemed to last for eternity Tor clawed her way to the surface and desperately sucked air into her burning lungs as she fought to keep her head above the water whilst the current of the river carried her towards the docks.​
     
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  19. 7th of First Seed
    Outside Windhelm
    Logan ey Ravensbourne

    As Logan reached the bridge, he slowed down. Several of the guards there had turned to face him, their eyes widened a little in surprise at the sight of him. He sneered at the sight of their outfits. Everything about the Stormcloaks irritated him, but he didn't say anything as he gripped his sword in one hand and some vials in the other. One of the guards looked hungrily at him, as if they wanted to end his life.

    "Halt there," one of them said, approaching him with his hand wrapping around the hilt of his blade. "You look rough. You wouldn't happen to be one of those prisoners at Windhelm, would you?"

    "I have something for you," he said, handing the vials to the man. "Jorrick sends his regards."

    The man looked suspicious, and was about to draw his sword, when another of the guards approached and hastily snatched the vials, placing his other hand on the first guard's chest in order to indicate that he should stand down. Logan's eyes turned to this second guard, who was inspecting the vials for quality.

    "This is good stuff," the guard mumbled, pocketing the vials and nodding. "Jorrick knows his stuff. If it's good enough for him, it's good enough for me." The first guard sneered, but the second stepped to the side. "Travel pass, imperial. But if we see you around here again, you won't get away so easily."

    Nodding to show his gratitude, Logan walked pass to see a collection of Stormcloak guards hurrying towards the bridge. His eyes followed their destination, and he watched on as Victoria had scrambled onto the bridge and was preparing to commit suicide. He frowned a little, standing and watching until it was just him and the other two Stormcloaks.

    "The stupid bitch is gonna get herself killed," the guard who he had given the skooma to said with a very haughty laugh.

    "Jog on," the first guard said, looking back to Logan.

    Logan felt a clang of guilt rush into his heart. Betraying Victoria to the guards was a necessary act to save himself from his potential re-imprisonment and possible execution, but he didn't want her to die. She was a Stormcloak. He had assumed that she would be spared eventually. The thought of her about to die like this pained him a little. Stepping away from the two guards, he was about to leave, when a thought crossed his mind. As Victoria fell backwards from the bridge into the water, he decided to take advantage of the distraction.

    Logan drew his sword and plunged it into the back of the guard who was closest to him, covering his mouth with his other hand to prevent him from making noise. Then, sliding the sword out, he twisted around and brought the sword swinging around, slicing the throat of the second guard he had given the skooma to before he could even say a word. As both of the guards fell wounded to the ground, he watched quietly as the life drained from the first guard, and took back the skooma from the second guard as he painfully gasped for air.

    "Apologies," he said, sheathing his sword and then pocketing the skooma.

    Once he had done this, Logan sprinted down the bank of the river in the direction of the docks, knowing that his actions had gone unseen due to Victoria's sacrifice. He could either escape on horseback and travel for days down a route he didn't trust, or he could reach the docks and escape in a ship. As he hurried down the bank, he watched as some of the guards slowly backed away from the edge of the bridge, assuming the woman was dead.

    Spotting Victoria's body in the water, he rushed to the water and dived in, swimming against the current with much difficulty. The water was icy cold and would no doubt damage his swords and perhaps even the skooma if the vial wasn't sealed properly, but he knew he had to save her. He owed it to her. She had played her role in saving his life already. His betrayal was necessary, but he didn't want her to have to die if it could be stopped. As her head bobbed up and down the water begging for air, Logan stretched his arm out and grasped her, allowing the current to lead them to the docks.
     
    #19 derelict_lilyflower, Sep 15, 2016
    Last edited: Sep 21, 2016
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  20. Tor had no idea who or what was holding her up and as she gulped down air she didn’t care, it was taking all her will power to stop darkness closing over her eyes. The first she was aware of the having reached the dock was when she bumped into something hard that turned out to be a set of wooden steps.

    She was just about able to pull herself up the little flight of stairs despite the pain from her shoulder and side. When she reached the top she was aware of her rescuer scrambling past before heaving her onto her feet.Tor thought she heard her partner ask her something but the words got lost in the haze that was enveloping her mind and she decided to respond with the only thing she knew whoever this was needed to know

    “th..th..the boat with the r..r..red fla..flag, red flag, boat red flag”

    The information clearly meant something to her rescuer as they set of half holding, half dragging her along with them. After an agonising walk Tor found herself being passed down a step and after being let go staggered a few steps before falling to the floor. From her new position she was sure she could see a scrap of red fluttering above a sail. Convinced she was in the right place Tor let go of her last scraps of strength and let the creeping darkness over take her.​



    Delphine paced irritably along the deck of the boat, occasionally throwing glances to where the stairway from the city opened out onto the quayside. The few blades that were with her knew well enough to stay out of their leader’s way and busied themselves Ulfric, gods curse him, had sent word that he had five suitable candidates for her. As far as she was concerned so far she only had one. A somewhat portly Imperial had been the first to arrive and judging from the lack of blood on his clothing had been smart enough to stay out of trouble. Delphine liked him already even if being near him had made her eye’s water.

    The Orc and the Breton wearing a mages garb had arrived shortly after the sound of all hell breaking lose had emanated from the city. Delphine had no idea what had occurred but knew that whatever had happened would surely have drawn nearly every guard in the city towards the docks and even though she was two bodies short Delphine was minded to cut her losses and leave before they arrived. The prisoners she had would probably suffice, the orc and the mage whilst clearly hot headed fools had been sensible enough to get here and at were also clearly good in a fight, the orc was flecked in blood but as far as she could tell none of it was his and the mage had received only minor wound. Add to that the smart one and maybe one of her blades and she was confident that her plan could work. Having reached her decision she order the blades to begin casting off before turning to speak to her newest recruits.

    “Let this be your first lesson, follow my instructions if you want to survive. Where ever your friends are now they had better hope the gods are kind because I’m not going to let their stupidity ruin my pla…”

    The sound of something big hitting the water caused to whip round and search for what had made it with part of her mind wondering if Ulfric had siege weapons she didn’t know about. After what seemed like an eternity she was able to relax when she saw a person break the surface and begin to flail desperately to stay there. Delphine motioned to her men to stop gawking and carry on. If this one was meant to be of hers, and of that she had little doubt then she could do without them. Clearly they couldn’t follow instructions or win a poorly picked fight and while she felt a little cruel leaving them to their fate she had no place for such a person.

    It was only when another person dived into the river from the far side, swam to the poor retch and began drag them towards the dock that she changed her mind. If the swimmer was the final prisoner she had been promised then they were clearly resourceful enough to get out of the city unharmed by them self, if it was just a bystander then they seemed to be prepared to put themselves in harm’s way to help another, either of which she could use.

    After quickly checking that none of the city guard had ventured down to the quays she shouted at her men to stop the boat. The boat had mostly pulled away from the slip and was beginning to be pulled by the current but one of her men was able to scramble ashore with a rope to hold the boat in place.

    An arrow plopped into the water as the soaking wet pair fell into the boat and without any instruction from Delphine the blade on the shore leapt back into the boat before cutting the rope the anchored them to the slip. After a tense couple of seconds and several more arrows from the emerging guards, one of which landed squarely in the deck with a reverberating thud, the current caught the boat and the helms man was able to steer it down stream and out of range of the arrows.

    With their escape safely underway nothing more she could do for now Delphine examined the final recruits. The rescuer was another Imperial, leaner than other one, but like his fellow country man his actions meant he had Delphine’s respect. The one he had had to rescue on the other hand did not. The Nord girl was already splayed out on the deck unconscious, a large wound on her side oozed blood and her breathing was shallow and sporadic.

    Stepping around the unconscious body Delphine looked at the rest of her recruits and after careful thought to compose herself she began to speak.

    “Straight away let’s get one thing clear, I am responsible for getting you out of those dungeons and as such you work for me until I say you don’t. Another thing, I’m not going to bother with your names yet, you haven’t earnt that, for now you shall be known by the order you came aboard. For example” Delphine said pointing at the orc “I will address you as two until further notice. I also want you to know that I am a women of considerable resources and if you decide to skip out on me before your job is done, I will make the rest of your short life as miserable as I can. If you stay however, you may just find yourselves doing the most worthwhile thing you’ve ever done. Finally I'd suggest that if you don’t already you should spend some time getting to know your new colleagues, perhaps whilst you try to make sure your friend here lives till morning.”

    With that Delphine turned her back on the group before they could have a chance to respond and strode to the stern of the little boat, whispered instructions in the helmsmans ear and took up sat with her bakc agaist the gunwale​
     
    #20 Applo, Sep 21, 2016
    Last edited: Oct 2, 2016