Ian

"Sure if it's not too much trouble," he replied. "My robes will suit me fine while you work on to leather."

Ian set the armor down on a rack beside them. "I'll keep the gauntlets, they're relatively intact."
He added quitely, replacing his guantlets over his hands, "that politcian from Leyawiin and the Imperial City is back; I wouldn't trust him."

This post has been edited by Lord Revan: Mar 15 2007, 08:45 PM

Green-Root, still in the damn cavern.

After countless turns, twists and branches, Green-Root and Merethicus finally saw something approaching the light of the outside world.
,,And here we are, at the exit............What?! This is the place we started at!" Green-Root hissed, extremely annoyed.
,,Gah! I've had it with this mess. I'm out!" He crawled up through the hole and vanished into the woods, not bothering to check if Merethicus could climb out of the cavern with that heavy armour of his.

Semir Grey, Flying Dutchman.

Semir looked at all the carpets that covered the ships cabin and belowdeck areas. Each glowed dimly in the moonlight.
,,So, Sparky. Ready when you are." He whispered. Sparky the Breton gave a gleeful smile and pressed a finger into the carpets. The finger glowed with an arcane light that soon travelled out, spreading through the carpets like a stream of water.

The Blue Serpent shuddered. It leaned over to one side heavily, causing some panic for a moment. Semir rushed up on deck and pulled one of the recently installed levers near the wheel. At the starboard side of the ship, a ring enchanted with dispell was moved away from a metal rod enchanted with burden. The starboard side became heavier, and the ship stabilized.
,,So this is how Sparky envisions an airship? Burden spells to steer and a massive dose of levitation to fly. Crude, but effective." Semir thought.

,,Alright men, full sails! We're going to Argonia!"


Flint Ironwood, at the campsite.

,,Yeah, keep the gauntlets. They look fine, for as much as I can see. Sharp blades attached to a gauntlet isn't exactly my type of weapon but hey, it's not as if I know a lot about these things. I'm a smith, not a warrior."
Flint yawned and looked closer at the leather.
,,Hmm, it looks like there are bug shells woven into it. Sorta like chainmail. I need to replace them but whatever critter provided those shells, I doubt it's here. Hmm, I need a substitute." He concluded and looked around.
,,Wood? It might burn, but it's the closest to the original material in strenght and weight."

The Breton retrieved the tools he needed from his belt and got to work.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Mar 15 2007, 09:06 PM

Flogir

Flogir approached the seated Patholos slowly, a concerned expression on his face. Taking a seat about a full arms length away he placed Patholos' dagger beside him.

Slowly, he edged his arm out and patted his shoulder in an unsure way.

"Umm.... There there, Patholos, you just try to.... err... cheer up... ya....." Flogir managed to say off the top of his head. The man or mer's behaviour was quite unsettling.

"Do you think we can move camp. All I smell is burnt flesh, blood, and an extreme version of bad wet dog smell," Flogir added in disgust.

Rann

He walked with Altair for a few more moments before answering, both because he wanted more distance between them and the rest, and because he was trying to decide whether or not to answer the question honestly.

"Well, he tried to kill my mother quite some time ago, if that counts." Rann answered in a confused tone. "But what the hell does he have to do with anything?"

Veric

"Absolutely nothing. Now what is it you would like to ask me?" Altair replied, obviously wanting to leave behind the topic of Veric. He was simply seeing how Rann would react to his real name.

Patholos, talking to Flogir

"This means much to me, friend," Patholos said, having a hard time with the last word. "It really does. I need to find myself again, and its been years since I've seen any of my Order. The loss is spiritually and emotionally draining, and it feels like when I lost my family,..." Patholos closed his pupilless eyes and put his hands on his head. Then Patholos turned that pale face towards Flogir.

"I'm sure you don't care about what I say, I am physically ruined, and I am a cold shell of a man. But heed this, there is nothing more important in life than friends. Nothing." Patholos paused, then the muscles on the corners of his mouth twitched, and he tried to smile.

"Would you like to see if we can give Flint a hand, friend?..."

Rann

"Well," Rann went on, deciding to think about the relevance of the Veric question later, "We've talked politics, but you've done nothing yet, and failed to mention any plan of action."

Flogir

Flogir sympathized for Patholos. Whomever he dealt with before had made him a wreck. Flogir thought it would probably take a lot of patience and understanding before Patholos felt more comfortable around them.

Flogir stood up. "Sure, let's go see what Flint is up too."


Flogir led the way to Flint, who seemed to be examining some armour. Flogir tsked. "If only I had my supply cart. I'd have all the supplies you need to make those pieces perfect again. I had boldmold fragments and everything..."

Veric

"How many people in Cyrodiil do you think will except a democracy-like government? Not many, I think. The people are looking for a hero, and the champion of Cyrodiil has dissappeared. So since we can't shove our government down their throats, perhaps we should give them a person they feel they can trust to represent it. You follow?" Altair asked as they walked farther amd farther from the camp.

Serene, feeling awkward

She noticed Rann walking away with that man....why did she have that odd feeling about it?

"Rann!!" she called, "Where are you off to?" There was concern in her voice, although she doubted Rann would even notice...

Patholos

Patholos followed Flogir to the place where Flint was working. Patholos noticed the careworn hands of a smith on Flint and wise old eyes. Patholos noted that this man could be a fountain of knowledge and he could help with the information that Patholos had to deliver.

"Flint, I would like you and Flogir to know that I trust you," Patholos' cold blank face did not portray any emotion, but it did not appear false or aggressive. "And I would like to confide in you a secret my Dread Father shared with me..., but the Dread Father is not an attractive ideal, and I do not wish to convert any of your ideas, but I need to talk to someone who has lived longer and seen more than I..."

Flint Ironwood.

Flint looked up from his job.
,,That would be handy. But we can't complain about it now. So the idea is to improvise." He replied to Flogir. He then looked around the campsite for a moment.
,,I was thinking of replacing those bugshells with wood. As for protecting our new friend Patholos, I just got an idea. See if you can convince some of our friends here to remove the flesh from those werewolves. The ribs, shoulderplates and some of the other bones should be useable as armour."

While his mind mulled over the possible forms of armour he could create, Patholos spoke up.
,,Well, I have seen a few things. I don't know much about the Dread Father though. But go ahead. What do you want to talk about?" The Breton answered. He flipped out a knife and carefully removed a cracked bugshell from Ian's armour.
,,Bugs as armour. How peculiar. I should ask him about it someday."

Rann

"And I take it you wnat to be that person." he said flatly, becoming a bit suspicious. Before he voiced his concerns, though, he would let Altair finish his explaining.

Rann had his own ideas of how the government should be organized and run, and he hoped that Altair's ideas would match up somewhat. It didn't look that way right now. Serene called after him then, disturbing his internal thoughts.

She comes into my life twenty years late and treats me like a child.

He ignored her as he waited for Altair's reply.

Flogir

Flogir was just about to question Flint about the fact that the werewolf corpses might revert back into human anytime now that using their bones would probably be pointless when Patholos spoke up.

Flogir listened carefully to him and then to Flint's response. He took a moment to consider.

"The little I know of this "Dread Father" is that the Dark Brotherhood refers to it as one of their patrons. But that's about it. I figure you don't necessarily follow the Dark Brotherhood as I heard you say mention that the Dread Father involves itself in other things as well. But I'm curious, so continue."

Veric

Altair looked to Rann, waiting for him to answer Serene, though when he saw that he wasn't going to he answered, "Me? No. We need a person to really connect with the people of Cyrodiil, find out what it is they need, what they want, and problems they have. Too many politicians fighting for the throne are looking only to gain fame. Now that the Septim bloodline has faded, it seems honor in the Empire has as well.

"No, we need a person who can connect with the populace, and we need a situation to make him well known. I am not much of a people person myself..." Altair purposefully eluded to this 'person' as possibly being Rann and the situation as the Silhouette in an attempt to entice the still young, yet remarkably sharp Dunmer. He purposefully avoided speaking of what exactly the plans of reform were because, quite frankly, Veric was still coming up with a believable answer.

Rann

"Me?" he asked, as if the very idea were ridiculous. "Wouldn't work. Sure, I'm charismatic and all that compassion, but I don't clean up very nicely. Besides that, nobody's going to support a dunmer barely starting his second decade of life. You've got everything necessary for that position; just give me one that keeps me out of the spotlight."

"I was hoping that we could put heads together to plan out the organization of government and plan of action before trying to bring the populace into our folds and uniting against this Silhouette bastarde."

This post has been edited by Dantrag: Mar 19 2007, 03:30 AM

Ian

Sitting beside the campfire, Ian ran a stone over his blades, honing their edges. He paused briefly to take in the fact that Rann and "Altair" had resumed where they left off in Leyawiin. Ian went back to his work, sharpening more .

The Imperial could guess that part of Rann's fiercely independent, and, in his opinion, reckless nature, was due in part to the natural impulsiveness and authority problems many young men had. This Altair appeared to support views and ideals that Rann held to, so naturally the Dunmer got along with him well.

Ian's features darkened, no mean feat when one was under the effects of . But even if that Altmer is nothing more than he appears, he is still a politician. In Ian's experience with politics, few practicioners were straight arrows rather than two-faced minipulators trying to further themselves.
He set down his blades and cast aside the smoothed-out rock. Ian didn't trust the High Elf as far as an ogre could throw him, let alone with any of the group's souls. He continued to brood over his suspicions and the fates of the youngest charges.

Issac

With the fighting over, Issac decided not to approach Satyana for awhile, at least until everyone started moving westward again in the morning. Then Issac noticed Rann and that Altmer counciler making their way to the woods.

An amused smile played across his face as Issac saw no reason what soever not to join them. Besides if Altair is as noble in his intentions as he claims, what ill could possibly come to pass? With that thought in mind Issac caught up with the two, "Hail, you two."

OCC: If this was too intrusive, then just tell me

Veric

"Indeed, though this Silhouette bastarde needs dealing with now, or there will be no Cyrodiil left to run. We are in no rush though, so we can still discuss this," Altair said as he began to walk away from the camp, seeing as Rann was not going to answer Serene.

"Picture this: a council, ensuring that no single man has too much power, however in times that require speedier action than that which a council can provide, times like right now with the Silhouette destroying cities, a leader among them is elected to execute decisions. This presence should be dealt with now, though, so we could use it to give spotlight to me or whomever will bring forth this new idea to give it a better chance of surviving," he finished waiting for a comment from Rann when Isaac appeared.

Veric was unsure of how much of the coversation he had heard, but since he was in character the whole time he had little to worry about, "Hail friend," he replied with a smile that could barely be seen in the darkness, "Rann and I were just discussing politics."

This post has been edited by ShogunSniper: Mar 19 2007, 03:56 AM

Rann

Rann gave Isaac and odd look that communicated the question 'Why are you here?' it wasn't rude, merely a sincere question, since Isaac had seemed to hold a certain contempt for Altair earlier.

"An elected council would work," he said, continuing as if Isaac never joined the conversation; he could jump in when he felt it was necessary, "But how would it be organized? Obviously each country of Tamriel would have to be represented, but they would most certainly need more than one representative per country, and each country would have to have an equal number of representatives in order to keep everyone happy."

Veric

Seeing that Rann did, Altair followed suit and continued the conversation with Isaac. "Perhaps the number of couniclors should depend on the number of people they are representing?" he offered, acting unaware that this may lead to more councilors per one country than another.

This post has been edited by ShogunSniper: Mar 19 2007, 04:32 AM