Rann

Rann followed Indor into the study. The air was damp and its thickness made his lungs feel heavy. He watched for a moment while Indor read.

"Anything interesting?" he asked after a few moments. He wasn't sure if reading was the safest thing to be doing at that exact moment.

Issac

He blinked before looking toward the entrance. Even if his father wasn't still wearing his blood red robes, Issac could have picked him out. The Altmer got up and strode to meet Ian.

Ian, Lokken

Ian recognized Issac come out of the crowd and they embraced as father and son. "I figured you'd be here if you were in Chorrol at all." The vampire commented, clapping Issac on the shoulder.

"Satyana and I have something to tell you, come on." Issac said with a slyness that would make an orc curious. "He's pleased about something; I'm brimming with anticipation." Kirana stirred in the vampire's mind. Ian just returned his son's grin and followed him to the table. He nodded to Rahvin and Smacked the unopened bottle in the midst of those that had been emptied.

"So I hear you have good tidings," The vampire took in the others arrayed around the table. "Three couples all in one place, our 'family' has grown in the course of a year" Ian couldn't argue with Kirana, the realization that everyone here had personal ties to each other still amazed him.

He gestured to Satyana and Issac, "You have the floor."

OCC: Satyana can be the one to tell Ian. She's the mother after all.

Indor

Indor noticed Rann’s tone and stopped reading. “Its fascinating. His theories are… outside the box… shall we say. But he backs them up well. This could be a real breakthrough.”

He bundled the papers and oddments together before crouching down beside the corpse. The Breton had been dead long enough for the worst of the stench to be gone, but it was still an unpleasant job. Indor pulled his pockets and pouches open examining their contents. Most of it was junk, but he pocketed a small notebook, an amulet of no apparent use and some coins before standing and wiping his hands off on his trousers.

“I’d like to have a quick look around and make some of my own notes before we leave,” he said to Rann.

Rann

Rann took a seat on a half-rotted, overturned barrel and began to inspect his small wounds. His arm was still bleeding, as was the small gash on his midsection, but everything was still intact, for the most part.

"Take your time," he answered, "Just don't forget that we probably didn't kill everything that was in here."

Satyana

She blushed a bit when everybody was looking at her, but straightened up and turned to Ian;

"Ian....you are going to be...a grandfather!, Issac and I are going to have a baby in about six months"

She sat down again and continued; "We'll call her Serene, after my grandmother"

"Iif it's a girl that is" she added nervously

Oh...that was close, I hope nobody noticed....but I do know I'll have a girl

Brianna

Brianna smiled faintly, it was good to see Ian again, she liked him despite he was a vampire. She came to think of Sadril, wondering what became of him. The memory of the long walk over the mountains that Rahvin, Sadril and herself did back then stood clearly to her.

"Two future grandpa's in one bar, let's celebrate!" She grabbed the bottle and opened it

"Anyone?"

Rahvin, you're awfully quiet....what's the matter?

Flint Ironwood, Bruma.

After making sure the pidgeon had been sent, Flint decided to make the most of his free time and went to see his new 'boss'.

Since the last year, Odrik had changed a lot. Gone was the Nord with eyes that burned like a thousand fires. Gone was the loud voice that had commanded the siege engines during the battle for the Imperial City. The man that sat in the comfortable chair, staring out of the window, mead in his hand, was a mere shadow of that man. When Flint knocked on the door to his office, he didn't respond. After a moment, Flint opened the door and walked in.

"Odrik. You really should stop drinking." The Breton said and shook his head. Odrik grumbled something incoherently and took a mighty swig of his cup. His drinking prowess was the only thing he could be proud of these days.
"Oh, come on. Odrik, stop ignoring me! Don't you want today's report or what?" Flint added somewhat annoyed after a minute of silence. This time, Odrik did respond.
"Report? I don't need no stinking report. Betsy blew up. I could see the smoke from here. It's a drat shame. Such a fine lass, now charred timber." He slurred and emptied what was left of his tankard. Subconsciously, his free hand grabbed a full bottle of mead and refilled his cup.

"Betsy? Ah, concept D. Yeah, it failed. That's why I want to fill the spheres with simple water from now on." Flint said. Odrik had an intense attachment to every siege engine under his command. He gave them all names and cared for them more than his wife. In fact, Flint had heard rumours that said wife was preparing the papers for a divorce because she felt neglected.

The Breton looked around the office while absentmindedly stroking his beard. The place was a wreck, even moreso than last time he'd visited. Documents were piled up everywhere, documents that Odrik should have processed weeks ago. Empty bottles of mead littered the floor and a bucket stood in a far corner. Flint leaned in closer to see what was in the bucket but soon turned away in disgust.
"Gods! Odrik, why do you use a bucket as a toilet? Have you even been out of your office for five seconds today?" He sighed.

Odrik shrugged.
"Why should I?" He asked.
"Why? Well, if you don't go home and take a bath, your wife is going to leave you for one." Flint argued.
"So? Let her. Don't care. Let her leave. All I wanted was to make this project work, to build the best siege engine ever. An engine that would go down into history, as famous as Tiber Septim, a machine as famous as Numidium. That's all I wanted. But it's never going to happen, I see that now." Tears streamed down Odrik's face as he remembered his dreams. His tankard moved to meet his lips, only to suddenly be torn from his grip by an invisible hand and thrown through the window with great force.
"Stop wallowing in self-pity, idiot! You're making me sick!" Flint shouted angrily.

"That was some good mead. It's a shame you threw it away." Odrik whispered.
"Gods! Look at you! You're a wreck! I'm not the type to comment on other people's drinking habits, but you have been completely wasted for way too long! I don't know what you're thinking, but I haven't given up yet! Just so you know, we still have those plans for importing an authentic Dwemer ballista from Morrowind and we can still make concept D work if we just keep trying!" Flint turned around and stomped away to the door. He was no longer in the mood to deal with the Nord.
"Yo, Flint buddy. You're right, I've given up. But not because our concepts don't work. They do. It's because there's foul play going on here."

Flint froze at the door.
"Foul play?" He asked warily. Odrik swung his chair around so he could look at the old Breton.
"Foul play. I wasn't convinced at first, but now I'm sure of it. You see, not only the prototypes keep failing, but those three old-style catapults we built last month? They used Rotten nails, all of them. The first bit of a rain and they fell apart, irreparable. One catapult getting through our quality-check? Unlikely, but possible. Two more, after I sharpened the checks? Impossible." He said softly, yet with an echo of his old spark.

Flint frowned.
"So you're suggesting...sabotage? But who would stand to gain anything from that?" He wondered out loud. Odrik sighed.
"Don't ask me. I'd say an Akaviri spy most likely. During the war, there were Imperials fighting on their side. Imperials, Bretons, all the scum of Cyrodiil. I wouldn't be surprised if one or more of them went undercover after the loss of their commander. We all know we haven't delivered the decisive blow to the snakes yet. We scattered them, forced them to retreat. But as long as they're not wiped out to the last scaled tail, there is no peace."

Flint nodded.
"I'll take some time off to investigate this. If there is an Akaviri spy, I'm going to find him and skin him till he tells us what colour socks his grandmother wore." He said.
"But you will have to take over for me in the meantime, Odrik." He added with a sly grin.

Ian

The ramifications hit home, Ian blinked. "Well," Kirana began. "If that's not a closure then I don't know what is." Musing the possibility was one thing, but the news that Satyana was pregnant with Issac's child was more profound than many could imagine. A decade and a half ago, Ian and Kirana had found a orphaned noble boy in the rubble of the Temple District. Now he had grown and was set to father his own child.

It was one of those life-affirming revelations that few were fortunate enough to experience personally. Ian felt his spirits soar and a genuine smile came to his face. The vampire forgot about Umbranox, Amrita, and Altair for one moment in his existance he was truly alive.
He glanced to Brianna with a spark in his eyes. "The mother should avoid getting drunk for the time being." Then Ian got up, "But celebration there will be. I'll return shortly."

Issac

Issac knew he couldn't imagine the rush his "father" was having from this. But it clearly had a profound affect on him. He hadn't known Ian to be so overjoyed by anything, compared to his normal reservation it was an epiphany. Seeing his patron react like this drove the point deeper for him. I'm going to be a father. Just like Ian was to me.

Ian managed to dodge through the travern's crowd with and walk outside in a matter of moments. Issac turned to Satyana, cupping her cheek with his right hand. "I've never seen Ian so happy in my life."

This post has been edited by Lord Revan: Aug 21 2008, 01:17 PM

Rahvin

Rahvin accepted Brianna's offer and she poured him a drink. As he watched the conversation unfold before him, he couldn't help but be amused at the strange look of a sincerely touched vampire.

"I'm not sure the world's seen anyone that happy before," he added to Issac's statement.

Brianna

She smiled. Ian looked so...ehh alive! That was remarkable. She noticed his remark on the "mother not getting drunk" and laughed;

"Don't worry old friend, the drinks are for us! Satyana gets nothing stronger than comberry juice"

Then turning to Rahvin she continued:

"Soo, werent you happy when Serene handed you Rannie? I've heard you were, dearest" She took his hand and squeezed it devotingly.

Satyana

"I'm glad he's happy. I think he needs that feeling. Our baby will get the best grandparents in the whole of Nirn" she added happily

Ian, Northern Goods and Trade

"In over a decade I have never seen you in such high spirits, Ian." Seed-Neeus commented after the agent appeared suddenly and made a rather abnormal purchase for one of his nature.

"There are things that can cause a complete change in people, one of those things has just happened." Ian replied, handing the Argonian a bag of gold. "Issac's wife, Satyana, is with child; he's going to be a father soon!"

Seed-Neeus smiled to herself as she remembered the Altmer lad Ian had raised as his own. "If Satyana needs any help with small things, Dar-Ma will be happy to help."
"I'll remember," Ian said as he took the sack and left the shop. Neeus shook her head, smiling to herself. Now she'd seen everything.



Issac

When Satyana mentioned grandparents, he realized yet again that Kirana was gone. She had worked with Ian to raise him, teaching him what he knew of magic and people. Kirana had more of a mother to him than the Altmer woman who had perished during the Oblivion Crisis.
I miss her so much, Remembering his matron's passing sobered Issac a bit. I'll make her proud, our child will know who her grandmother was.

He came out of his reverie and replied, "couldn't think of anyone better."

Indor

Indor nodded and went back into the main chamber with a quill and a few blank parchments he had taken from the dead mage. First he wandered around it looking for anything of interest and memorising the locations of the traps. He came across the body of the dremora, its throat slit. He shuddered: he hated the things. The way Rann had taken it out still had him wandering, it was either extreme luck or there was more to the dunmer than he let on. Indor didn’t think it was luck.

The mage had already gathered almost everything of interest but he did find another stone in a bracket on the wall. He also found several inscriptions on the walls and pillars. He sat down and copied them. It was a slow process as, for the most part, he didn’t recognise the letters, let alone words. Someone might though and it might be of interest – there were certainly enough traps to suggest that it had been a place of some importance.

He lost himself in the work and once he’d done copying he gave a couple of the traps a careful examination and drew a plan of the room itself. There was a small tunnel going away in the opposite direction from where they’d entered. He was examining it when he became aware of shuffling footsteps. He looked round. They came again from down the tunnel. He opened his mouth to speak then realised that it probably wasn’t Rann. From within his shirt he drew a dart, he drew the cork off it revealing a tip sticky with poison.

I hope this isn’t an atronach, he thought easing forward into the narrow space. He raised the torch to light his way. The footsteps stopped then started more quickly. A scamp hurried round a corner into the light. An instant later Indor’s dart took it in the chest. It screamed and ran at him. Four steps later it dropped. Indor listened for another but heard nothing. “Hmmm,” he muttered to himself, “Four steps, poison must be going off.”

Sorian, Chorrol gates.

Sorian was still recovering from the fight and resulting chaos.
"Ugh, I never want that to happen again. Geez, what does a guy need to do so that the guards leave him alone? Something other than giving up his sword." He grumbled to himself. He made for the gate, but then realized that there were more guards in the city itself and the earlier events would be likely to repeat themselves if he met one.

So instead, the Redguard loitered just outside the gates, pacing back and forth.
"Can't go in, not without surrendering my sword, which I won't do ever. Can't leave, cause I'm rather tired and would like to sleep in a real bed for tonight. What to do, what to do?" He thought. After thinking for a few minutes, he got an idea. It was stupid, so stupid he considered he might as well stab himself right from the start, but it was the only one he had.

Sorian clenched and unclenched his fists before striding purposefully to the very same pair of guards that had attacked him earlier.
"Now, I know we are not exactly on the best of terms, so I shall be brief. I want to enter your city. However, you won't let me in unless I surrender my sword. That, is a demand I cannot comply with." He spoke. The two guards eyed him angrily and were already reaching for their broadswords again. One of them checked around him to see if anyone was close enough to interfere this time.
"So perhaps we can come to a compromise? You let me in, with my sword. In return, I'll report to the barracks right away and present myself for some...volunteer guard duty? Mercenary, no need for payment?"

"Gods, I hope they're not going to laugh me in the face. This sounds so dumb."

Rann

While he sat, Rann noticed that Indor was beginning to stray down a strange tunnel. With a sigh, he stood, and headed quietly in that direction.

He entered the tunnel a few moments after Indor, and heard a small commotion. He continued on, only to spot him standing near a dead (but twitching) scamp. He relaxed visibly when he realized that there was no immediate danger.

"Why so many daedra?" he asked quietly, "I don't see any cultists or mages."

Flint Ironwood, Bruma.

Outside Odrik's office, Flint stopped to think. The whole idea of a saboteur still felt unlikely to him but he had to admit that their constant failures were becoming a bit suspicious.
"But damn, who could possibly be a spy? I don't think it was someone of the siege division. Everyone of them we put on the project was also there during the battle last year. On our side of the walls. And if it isn't one of them, then who is it?" He thought and shook his head.
"Crap, I haven't even begun yet and already I feel like I'm in over my head."

After some debate, Flint came up with the bare bones of a potential plan. But first, he wanted to make the investigation official, by involving the legion.

Several minutes later, the grey-haired Breton walked into the Bruma barracks, where those guards that were off-duty tended to hang around. He wasn't dissapointed in his expectations, as there were indeed over two dozen guards present. Some were gambling, others where armwrestling and some were merely talking or watching the gambling and armwrestling. All in all, the atmosphere was light and relaxed.
"Ok, everyone. Listen up!" Flint shouted over the noise. Everyone in the room turned his or her head towards him, some slower than others.

Flint took a few more steps into the room before he continued.
"For those among you who may not yet know me, I'll introduce myself. My name is Flint Ironwood, and I'm a member of the Bruma Siege Division. Specifically, a member of the development branch. Now as I bet you all know, the Siege Division has been developing some new engines over the past few months and as you also know, we haven't been very succesfull in our endeavours."

The Breton looked around the room to observe the effect of his introduction.
"The reason for that, as we've discovered, is sabotage. Somewhere, there is a traitor in this city, one that is actively undermining our efforts at rebuilding our defenses after the war. We're running an investigation right now and that's why I'm here. I would like to enlist the aid of the guards when we're going to make our arrest." He then spoke.
"And also, I want you to gossip, put the word out on the street that this spy, whoever he is, is about to get nailed down hard."
"So, can I count on your help?"

Indor

Indor bent to retrieve his dart. The presence of the daedra puzzled him almost as much as it worried him. He gave the scamp’s corpse a kick then stood. “These are no temporary conjurations,” he said, “They haven’t faded at all. That means their physical presences have come across.” He paused to think, “I suppose its possible that they came to our plane during the oblivion crisis and were stranded. They might have holed up here since.”

It was possible, and he wanted to believe it. He didn’t want to have anything to do with summoning again.

OOC I’m not sure where (if anywhere) you want to take this. I’m ready to leave the ruin but if you have any more fun planned for it then fire away.

OOC: nah, I'm done with the ruin too.

Rann

"So is there anything else to look at here?" he asked as Indor returned with the dart.

"We've got brandy waiting."

Antus

Antus sat in a ring of off-duty guards surrounding a small table. In his left hand was a bottle of ale, and his right held five cards. He had in front of him a moderate pile of gold, but he knew it would get larger. The cards were favoring him at the moment, though he could barely read them through the cloud of alcohol in his brain. He laughed, but by the time he raised his bet, he'd forgotten the joke. The stakes were high, and the climax of the game appeared as the time came to show the cards.

In one terrible moment, the game was put on hold as an authority figure appeared. As he listened, he began to look around at all his fellow guardsmen. Being a newcomer, he now had to be extra cautious about his companions being traitors.

When the speaker asked his final question, Antus took another look around his peers to see what their reactions were...

Indor

“No, I’d say we’ve been successful here. I’ll just get the stuff.” Indor walked past Rann and back into the little side room and bundled the papers and finds together in the dead mages threadbare blanket. He re-emerged with them and walked back out the ruin.

The air outside was pleasantly fresh after the ruin. He was surprised how long they had been underground. He stretched and turned to Rann. “Do you think we should camp a bit away from the ruin? Or shall we crack open the brandy now? Or both?” he grinned.

Bruma, Legionnaire barracks.

One man, a captain when onduty, just another regular man when not, answered.
"Why, certainly the Legion shall help. Treason is a crime after all, and crimes are what we are meant to fight. That, and invaders." He said and shrugged casually.
"But then again, invasion is another crime, so it all boils down to the same thing in the end." He muttered.

"Excuse me?" A Nord called. Flint turned his eyes at the legionnaire.
"Yes? Is there a question you'd like to ask?" He inquired politely.
"Well, yes. Who exactly is this traitor?" The Nord asked in return. Flint made a dismissing gesture with one of his hands before answering.
"Ah, that. We are already quite sure of the traitor's identity, but I want to make some last inquiries to make absolutely sure. Till then, I'd prefer to keep the suspect's identity a secret. No offense, but I know you people sometimes do your job too well. If I told you right now, you'd all keep an eye on him and if he were to notice...Let's just say I'd like to keep the element of surprise. I hope you don't mind."

Flint swept his gaze across the room.
"Any further questions?"

OOC: sorry I haven't been around lately, school has me busy. i'll try to post with other characters soon.

Rann

"Both sounds good," he answered, bending down to pick up the two bottles he had stashed a few hours earlier. He continued to drink from the one he had already sampled and handed the unopened one to Indor.

He shouldered his pack and they headed in the general direction of Chorrol, drinking as they did. As the city gates became visible on the horizon, Rann suddenly realized how close he really was to facing problems he'd tried to leave behind a year before. Satyana surely hated him by now, and it had been ages since he'd spoken to anyone else. He took a few more sips from his bottle.

Indor

Indor was pleased to see the city gates on the horizon. He took another swallow from his severly diminished bottle and paused to gather himself. He noticed Rann swigging heavily from his bottle as he looked at the gates.

“What’s Chorrol like?” Indor asked, “In fact I’m not sure I ever asked why you’re headed there.”

He took another drink of the brandy.