Town of Caldera

[Orisis]

Surrounded by walls on all side, and protected by a few stationary guard towers, Caldera is a well-protected imperial town. Guards patroll the streets, and archers are always on the lookout for the stray wild beastie.

[Ranger]

Tedril stepped into the store. It was owned by Irgola, a Redguard Pawnbroker, one of the few people who would take anything besides Skooma without asking many questions, if at all.

"Three Iron Arrows."

Irgola, who had been cleaning one of his decorative (yet purchase-negotiable) Silver Plates spun around.

"Who's there? Oh it's you. I didn't see you come in, Ranger. Four Iron Arrows was it?"

This wasn't the first time Tedril had purchased wares from Irgola; it was the second. The first time he'd come in, Irgola had drawn his Shortsword and nearly attacked him before seeing that Tedril had stolen nothing. Rangers were even rarer in Morrowind than Cyrodiil - then again, Cyrodiil did have the most Rangers. Not that it was saying very much. But Morrowind in particular was not very much fancied by Rangers, mostly because of the lack of easily accessible food in the wilderness and the constant danger even worse than in Cyrodiil, because in Morrowind, one had to look up as well as backwards and forwards. Tedril personally viewed it as a challenge - besides, the Cliff Racers were good target practice.

"No, I said five. Five Iron Arrows. And put in a couple of Chitin as well - say twenty."

Irgola frowned.

"For what? Last time I checked, Rangers didn't have too much money."

Tedril shoved the Kagouti hides onto the top of the table.

"These. They're in pretty good condition."

Even considering the arrow damage to the hides, the Kagouti skins WERE in pretty good condition; regular Kagouti hunters mostly had to end up chopping the Kagoutis to kill them.

"Five Iron Arrows. Ten Chitin. Even in pristine condition, I can't give that much for a dead Kagouti." Irgola shook his head.

"Got anything cheaper than Chitin? I'll take some Corkbulb Arrows if you have some."

"None of those. I mostly get what I have from travellers, and most of those get what they have from Balmora. Fletchers don't usually bother with using Corkbulb."

It was Tedril's turn to frown. Not many fletchers had the skill to make Corkbulb Arrows and those who did generally didn't bother with them. Corkbulb Arrows were of the lowest quality and broke easily. They didn't provide much penetration either. Tedril could make them, but he needed a Corkbulb plant, and not just the roots too.

"Very well, Five Iron Arrows and ten Chitin." he replied.

"Done. "

Irgola accepted the hides and pulled the Iron and Chitin arrows from the barrel they lay in. The barter concluded, Tedril slipped silently out of the store and back onto the busy streets of Caldera.

[Orisis]

Pyr Galtrem. Pirate. Well, he used to be one, at least. Now he’s degenerated into a mere adventurer. The thought of that didn’t make Pyr particularly angry – no. He thought the change of pace might do him good, but all the same, he would’ve liked to have a ship & crew to call his own anyway. Due to the unnaturally harsh winds, both his ship, and crew, was shattered. At that notion, he grew uncomfortable. He cared greatly about the wellbeing of his crew, and the fact that such a fine ship was dashed upon the rocks made his heart ache.

All the same, he had deigned to put it all behind him now. In Morrowind, nobody knew of his name, ship, or crew. Even less of his exploits, although the looks some of the locals give him make him think twice. He sighed. Morrowind would certainly not be a place the faint-hearted would stay. Even in the dreamy town of Caldera, wild beasts occasionally run amok in the town. It would certainly be an exciting change of pace, but still, he thought that not everyone will have his sense of adventure.

Humming a jaunty tune to himself he had heard some of his crew sing to, he led his pack guar into town. He had been quite befuddled at the lack of horses & mules in Morrowind, but he assumed that it was some sort of taboo to own horses, as everyone he met gave him strange looks whenever he brought the topic up. Nonetheless, a guar worked fine, even if it didn’t seem as intelligence as the horses he was so used to, and he couldn’t ride the beast.

He looked every inch the adventurer, and he had even found himself a nifty-looking bandanna. Everything else he had dumped on his pack guar, who accepted the added burden without complaint. It seemed diligent enough. A leather pouch hung from his belt, chiming with the sort of sound metal would make when it strikes each other. Well, that pouch looked quite full of the stuff, and Pyr noticed, with some sort of abstract delight, that he was noticed wherever he went.

This time, in Caldera, he felt that more than one pair of eyes were eyeing the pouch that so enticed them. Pyr didn’t really mind, as long as none of them actually made a move. Besides, he was only in Caldera for a small stop before moving elsewhere. In reality, he found the novelty of adventuring fairly interesting, if not the sort of thing he was used to. In Vvardenfel, there were quite the selection of people who could use a hand, or an escort for a short time. On top of that, he found it brought in a decent profit as well – more than enough for him to live on.

This time, he had managed to raid a third-rate smuggler’s cave. He had caught the men off guard, when they were sleeping. The foolish folk didn’t even bother to leave a guard out, and he had silently ghosted & and slitted their throats in their sleep. They slept surprisingly sound for people in such a career, and despite their amateurish ways, they had quite the haul of items, most of them legal. He grinned to himself – they would fetch a fair price at Irgola’s.

He quite fairly liked the man, he didn’t ask too many questions, which was good for both of theirs wellbeing, and he accepted things without too much talk. The redguard also seemed to be the sort who wouldn’t gossip too much. That would be good for his purposes – if the legion found out that he was slitting people’s throats in their sleep, (even if they were smugglers) they wouldn’t react very kindly. Pyr doubted that even he would get away with something like that.

Still grinning, he swung open the door to Irgola’s and strode in. He had left the guar outside, casting a spell on it so that anyone who’d seek to pilfer its goods will end up setting off an alarm. A very loud, and very distinct one that’ll send Pyr running back outside. He would ask Irgola to come outside and take the guar to the back before inspecting the goods. Here, everyone knew him by Cain, and that word held no other meaning than the name he went by.

Suddenly, he looked up, and noticed that Irgola was already busy with a customer. His grin turned into a wry smile. Apparently, the redguard had quite a business going on, and even with odd types such as he, and that odd cloaked mer (man?) he saw. Even so, Irgola saw him, and raised an eyebrow more so, before returning back to his current customer after a small motion from Pyr.

“I can wait,” he spoke to both of them, even if the other customer didn’t turn to regard them,” I’ve got all the time in the world. Almost. Heh.”

[Ranger]

As soon as Tedril left the shop, he noticed something which hadn't been there before - a Guar. A Pack Guar, judging by the containers loaded onto it. He deduced that this must belong to the other customer in the store. The other customer had seemed a little outlandish. An adventurer, perhaps. It would explain why he was choosing to go to Irgola's and not the wealtheir Verick Gemain's up the street.

It was none of his business however, and so he continued to Caldera's small eastern gate near the blacksmith's. As he strolled, he caught something out of the corner of his eye. He immediately scanned the area, and nearly missed it. Nearly. The application of magic hadn't quite been enough to bypass his trained gaze. The training came out of nearly being stabbed from behind a couple dozen times. It was actually because of a lot of luck that he was still standing here. Then again, he always had been a lucky person. But still it had to run out sometime. There had been a time when a knife from behind had landed in his leg.... But that wasn't about to happen today. Was it?

The magic was easy enough to spot. The telltale shiver in the scenery that Camouflaging spells always left - unless applied by an absolute Master. Whoever this was though, he was good. The spell was almost perfect. He estimated perhaps 90% perfect. He vaguely remembered noticing and bypassing this shiver as he'd stepped into the store. Whoever this person was, he had been following Tedril. Caldera wasn't a big town, but it was big enough that he'd notice if people were following him.

What was this person's intention? He glanced back again. This time he felt his heart beat just that bit faster. There were four men milling about the invisible spellcaster - no, three men and one woman. Two of the men were Imperials, one a Nord and the woman was a Redguard.

Surely not... Not here...

They couldn't see him watching. Not with his hood on. But he could see them. As he watched, the four milled about in seemingly random patterns. The two Imperial men stopped to chat. Then the woman and the Nord.

No... It can't be...

He looked behind himself. There were two women near the blacksmith. One of them was a Breton. Another was an Imperial. Both armed. Standing right near the town exit. With a sinking heart, Tedril realized what was happening.

Dammit....

He was caught in an ambush. This must have been a massive operation. But then, they would be eager to lay their hands on him. In Cyrodiil, there was a 300 Septim price on his head for murder. In the Cyrodiil underworld, the price was about five zeros larger. For the organisation pursuing him, Tedril was Private Enemy No. 1. A six-man sandwich was a stretch, even for them. But then, it just showed how ruthless they were. They were notorious, they were persistant.

The Dark Brotherhood was on his trail again.

[Orisis]

The customer had left hastily after he entered, and he shrugged. Not everyone who visited Irgola’s was necessarily honest, if you followed his train of thought well enough. Still, it wasn’t his problem unless Pyr made it one, and he was a man who tended not to stick his neck into other people’s business without a very good reason to do so. Besides, he had enough trouble on his hands already – a ship, a crew, and a life. He grinned wryly to himself as he approached the vendor.

“It’s just one after another, isn’t it?” Irgola commented in an amicable tone, “So Cain, what is it this time? I believe your guar is still alive & well?”
“As well as can be,” Pyr flapped his hands, “Well, I left Georgie outside, so if you could be so kind as to take him out back…?”
“Yes, yes. Certainly,” Already, Irgola moved from out the counter to outside, trusting the guard to keep his store safe,” So, what do you have for me this time ‘round?”
“We’ll see. We’ll see,” Pyr smiled in a cordial manner,” I hope that you didn’t exhaust your earnings just yet.”
“We’ll see about that,” The redguard moved to touch the guar.
“Oh, no, you wouldn’t want to do that just yet,” Pyr warned. In reality, he was quite looking forward to the reaction Irgola the Pawnbroker would make.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

The redguard’s hands reflexively recoiled from the guar, and Irgola gave a small yelp of surprise. The guar itself seemed unfazed, though, and Pyr tried his best to suppress a chuckle. Sending a glance of annoyance at Pyr, Irgola nonetheless moved to lead the guar to the back. Then Georgie the guar collapsed, blood spurting out of the right-leg, the closest one to Irgola, a plain, unmarked throwing knife embedded deep in the guar’s leg. Pyr’s eyes widened. It wasn’t that he was emotionally attached to the guar – it was just that it was an insult to his person that someone deface a belonging of his so.

The guar was crying out in anguish. Giving it one, sadistic glance, his scimitar came out in a move to end the beast’s misery, and then to find the guy who assaulted his guar and teach him the order of things. Unfortunately, things didn’t go quite as planned. Even though the Dark Brotherhood went to extensive means to make sure that Tedril was caught in their net, it didn’t mean that they weren’t prepared for certain allies accompanying the dark elf that they didn’t know of.

Pyr wasn’t one of those allies, but nonetheless, the Dark Brotherhood didn’t believe in coincidences. Instantly, a burning hot ball of flame erupted from seemingly nowhere, aiming in his direction. Pyr saw where it came from. However, he didn’t have enough time double to check as the fireball came hurtling towards him. Pushing Irgola back, he muttered frantically, waving his hands, and a shimmering wall of energy sprung up just in time to reflect the fireball. He pushed Irgola back into his shop with a look that didn’t encourage questions as his eyes scanned the surroundings.

Six people. He assumed they were citizens of Caldera, since he didn’t frequent the area often, but the fireball didn’t come from any of them. He found it odd that they all carried weapons of some sort, however, and then there was that mysterious-looking cloaked fellow. His guar, long since gone quiet, would have to wait. He had the hunch that he saw the shimmering of magic, and then he saw it – a masterfully cloaked magician, flickering in and out of his sight, a shimmer of magic apparent now that he was aware.
What do they want from me…? He had assumed that they were after him at first, but after a second’s thought, Or… that person there.

Nonetheless, he sprung into action. His eyes saw the same things as Tedril saw, and in his mind’s eye, he interpreted things the same. It was a trap – likely not for him, but for the dark elf (He knew it was a dark elf because he saw the colour of the skin under the hood). Drawing both his blades, and abandoning any attempt at a ranged attack, his eyes scanned the area carefully before making a dash towards the wizard…

[Ranger]

Tedril made for the Blacksmith. If he was lucky, there would be a guard in there. The guard could provide cover, willing or unwilling.
He stepped to the door and pulled it open.

The guard was lying on the floor. A knife was stuck in his back. The Nord weaponsmith was face down on the table, half a dozen throwing stars stuck in him.

Tedril shut the door and whirled around - the two women had drawn their knives and had been advancing towards him. With a screech, the Imperial pounced. Tedril unsheathed his dagger and blocked the attack. The Breton had had put away her knife and was readying her spell. The Imperial slashed at Tedril's legs. Tedril reversed his grip and parried the attack, while reaching for an arrow with his left hand. The Breton launched her attack, a flaming sphere of flame at Tedril while the Imperial thrusted for Tedril's neck. Tedril blocked the attack and stuck the Imperial in the head with his arrow. Unfortunately, this left him open to the fireball. It splashed against his chest, leaving a blackened spot against his torso.
"Sorry." Tedril's mouth twisted into a grim smile. "Dark Elf."
Before the Breton had a chance to cast another spell, Tedril reached into his shoulder sheath and hurled a Throwing Knife towards the Breton. The Breton responded to late. Shlack - Dead Breton.

Above, the other customer from Irgona's was duelling with the four men and mage.

What by the Nine Divine's does he think he's doing?

The adventurer was skilled with his blades. But it was four on one - no, three on one. The invisible mage, the Nord and the Redguard. The two Imperials were advancing towards Tedril. Tedril assessed the situation. The most unpredicatable and therefore dangerous foe was the Mage. The Imperials did not seem to possess any magical powers of any sort.

Tedril unslung his bow, nocked an arrow and drew to full length. The Imperials started running zigzags to evade his inevitable shot. But he wasn't aiming at the Imperials. He turned the bow horizontal, aimed seemingly into empty air and released his arrow.

A two on one advantage should give the adventurer slightly better survival chances.

[Orisis]

The Dunmer was skilled, Pyr would give the mer that as he heard rather than saw the enemies fall slack to the ground. His grin that was there previously was wiped off, remaining a grim line of determination. No matter how good a duellist & swordfighter he was, going head-to-head with four opponents was madness. Now, along with the looming threat of the mage, he had to worry about four opponents, all of them skilled at swordplay. Then, all of a sudden, he felt the pressure drop. Three opponents. Still no easy feat, but for Pyr, it was do-able. He didn’t have the advantage of terrain, numbers, or intelligence, and he was being pushed back, but he knew that he had moves that his opponents weren’t anticipating. Namely, cheap shots.

Grinning, he used both blades to parry the attacks of his opponents. Managing to stand his ground, he realized that they were slowly attempting to encircle him, No chance in hell would I let you mongrels do that, he thought to himself while trying to see an opening he could take advantage of. If it was just the two swordsman, he could probably take advantage of them, but he was in constant fear of overextending himself and opening himself to a blast from the mage.

Damnit, he cursed silently to himself, Why do I always get myself into these sorts of things!?

In a sudden bout of fury, he struck out in a sudden, wild movement that caught his opponents off-guard, and struck both of them. Unfortunately, the mage, who was not in the heat of battle, took advantage of his sudden movement. Pyr knew he overextended himself, but if he stalled any more, he would be resigning himself to a defeat, and he braced himself for the strike that he knew was going to come…

Which never did.

The mage had toppled to the ground, an arrow in his chest, killing or disabling the man. His chameleon effect had worn out too. He didn’t bother to check for any more details, as the two swordsmen he had busied himself with redoubled their attacks on him. He thanked the Nine that he was skilled in two-weapon fighting, or else he would’ve been killed long before in the battle. Probably.

He continued to block, parry, and look out for openings. He saw his opponents were frustrated – they could never get a hit in – but Pyr was frustrated also. He could see no openings at all which would not leave him open to attack. Then he saw it. The person on the left was overextending himself. The Nord. Pyr was glad that he wasn’t using an axe, which would’ve broken his curved blades. Still, he could see the opening, right there. Hoping for the best, he struck out with his left arm. Two strong hands gripped

Then his heart skipped a beat. Apparently, a stroke to the heart didn’t bother the Nord, who moved to strike Pyr. It was a moment of horror, and then, the Nord crumpled to the ground, releasing his grip on Pyr’s blade, and leaving him with one enemy to worry about. The redguard. He grinned at the man.

“So, having much fun?”

The redguard didn’t reply, his mouth set in a grim line, his heart set on defeating this man who appeared out of nowhere.

[Ranger]

The arrow suddenly appeared in the middle of the invisible mage's chest. Tedril had been aiming for the head, but it was hard to aim at something he couldn't even see entirely. It didn't matter though; the arrow had the intended effect.

Tedril faced his two opponents. Melee combat was not his speciality, and he couldn't target them fast enough with their zigzags. Fortunately, he had more than his bow at his disposal. He dropped his bow. He needed two hands to pull this off. The Imperials were nearly onto him - one had a Spear and the other a Shortsword. The timing had to be right... now.

He jumped back while reaching into his cloak and released a wave of Steel Throwing Stars straight at the two unfortunate Imperials. Of the ten stars he threw, four hit. Two in each Imperial. Unfortunately, none were embedded in any vital organs.
"For the Brotherhood." the Imperial with the spear set on him with a flurry of thrusts.
"Say that when I'm dead." Tedril reached into his left shoulder sheath and hurled his other knife.
The Imperial ducked, but the knife grazed his temple and he fell unconscious. Without wasting any time, Tedril unsheathed his dagger and slit the Imperial's throat, just as the other Imperial swung at him with his Shortsword. Tedril blocked the cut easily. Obviously, this particular band had been counting on the edge of surprise to take him. They hadn't prepared for other eventualities. For example, they weren't wearing greaves.

Tedril smashed his foot into the balls of the Imperial, who doubled over in shock. It was a low trick, but then, so was trying to stab someone from behind. Tedril slit the other Imperial's throat. He galnced up at the battle in the upper streets. The adventurer had taken out the Nord and was duelling the Redguard..... There was something wrong with the scene. Tedril only needed half a second to figure it out. The Redguard.

The Redguard he saw had been female. The one the adventurer was duelling was male. The male was a shade darker, too. It couldn't have been coincidence that the female had been talking to the Nord, because the four assassins and mage had stopped in a precise Dark Brotherhood ambush formation.

So where had the female gone?

[Orisis]

Pyr didn’t see the female Redguard silently slip away from the action – he was too focused on the battle at hand. However, it became a completely one-sided battle as he bore down on the male Redguard, a sadistic smile returning to his face as he enjoyed the advantage he had over the man. Still, he was still thinking over why a sudden conflict would break out here, of all places. He could afford to think now – the situation was not so urgent anymore, and even duelling with the Redguard wasn’t as difficult as before.

A parry here, a feint there, and Pyr had already gauged the fighters’ ability before the battle had even truly begun. The reason he was having trouble just earlier was due to the Nord’s pure brute strength, but the Redguard was merely a nuisance. He outmatched the man in both strength, skill, and technique. After catching the Redguard’s blade in a lock, he kicked the man, sending him staggering backwards. Then, he took a great step forward, and then did a whirling slash, clockwise, before performing a coup de grace, severing his head clean from his neck.

“Now that’s finished,” he spoke gruffly to himself, “I wonder how that mer’s doing on his side.”

The immediate threat to him was over, but he didn’t sheath his blades just yet. Then, he saw a figure appear from the corner of a building, aiming to throw a knife. He doubted that even the ranger would notice such a presence. He let his mouth fall agape for half a second before shouting a word of warning.

“Oi!” He shouted, “Duck!”

And then he dropped one cutlass, drew a throwing knife from a pouch, and then threw. The knife went straight & true on it’s course, and Pyr trusted the mer’s reflexes to duck in time. He had saw the Redguard release her throwing star at the same time. He gauged her distance – she was a fair bit further away from the dark elf than Pyr, but she seemed more skilled, as the throwing star speeded to it’s target…

And then he saw the figure disappear.

[Ranger]

As Tedril was picking up his bow when he heard the noise. It was the noise of someone unsheathing a Throwing Star. He had heard the noise himself plenty of times, because he had used his own Stars enough times - but this was different in a major way. The difference was that the assassin was trying to do it silently. He recognised two things from this attempt: One, the assassin was from the Dark Brotherhood, because only Brotherhood assassins were trained in the art of assassinating with Throwing Stars and Two, he wasn't practised enough. Tedril did not consider himself an absolute master, but one proficient enough in the skills could do it about ten times more quietly than this assassin.

"Oi!" The adventurer was bellowing at Tedril. "Duck!"

Tedril heard the noise of a Throwing Star spinning through the air and the noise of a Throwing Knife being hurled. They were distinctly different sounds. Stars whistled when they thrown. Throwing Knives made a duller, heavier sound. Judging from the volume, the Star had been thrown by the assassin, who was nearer, and the Knife by the adventurer, who was further away. From the noise, he discerned the direction from which the star was thrown. From his own knowledge of Throwing Star trajectories and Dark Brotherhood tactics, he guessed the mark it was making for. Tedril swung his bow around and neatly deflected the Throwing Star, two feet away from his neck.

In front of him, a Throwing Knife slammed into the stone walls of the building from which the assassin had chosen as his position. But the assassin had vanished. Tedril guessed that an invisibility spell had been used. Like all invisibility spells, it would probably break once the user touched anything with his bare hands or tried to cast other magic, but otherwise, he was invisible. Thankfully, whoever it was wouldn't be able to use a knife without breaking the spell, but it wouldn't stop him from escaping. Not for the first time, Tedril wished he was able to cast a Life-Detection charm on the general area. But for now, he would have to move out of town as soon as possible, before the assassin(s) regrouped and tried the follow him. However, he had one matter to clean up first - the adventurer. Something told him that he wouldn't be seeing the last of this adventurer. It had been unfortunate that the adventurer had gotten himself caught up in Tedril's personal matters, but there wasn't anything he could do about the knowledge in the adventurer's brain.

There was only one non-magical way to remove knowledge from somebody's brain. It happened to everyone. Tedril just had to make the decision whether it should happen to the adventurer later - or sooner.

[Orisis]

The throwing star whistled past the head of the Mer, and his own throwing knife thudded into the wall with a dull clunk, and proceeded to jut out of the wood. He cursed to himself when he saw the woman disappear, and his knife miss. Nonetheless, nobody got hurt too badly, although he had noticed a small cut on his right forearm that he didn’t notice beforehand. He sighed – he wasn’t too big a fan of cuts, or war trophies. Hopefully, that injury was light enough that it didn’t leave a scar. He sighed. The guar cost him a goodly sum of money, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if Irgola was the sort who would pilfer his items when he wasn’t looking. Not that it mattered that much anymore.

He took another look at the mer, and rushed to the side of his Guar. Miraculously, it was still alive & kicking. He sighed, and wondered if anyone would take a lame, used guar. Then, with some surprise, he noticed that all the items were still there. Apparently, the Redguard was too afraid to poke his head just out his door. Nonetheless, he had some questions to ask the Mer. It was certainly an ambush, although he knew next to nothing about who set the ambush up, nor whether the Dunmeri he just aided was a criminal.

Not that it mattered, really. He, in a respect, used to be a criminal too.

“Hey,” he spoke quite loudly, and definitely loudly enough for the Mer to hear,” What was that all about?

[Ranger]

Tedril strode towards the adventurer. He didn't relax. He never relaxed. To relax his guard was to allow the Brotherhood to take a potshot at him.

"Hey!" The adventurer yelled at him, "What was that all about?!"

Tedril continued towards him, fingering his knife below his cloak. Could he do it? He certainly could - if he wanted to. Did he want to do it? No he didn't. This was one of the reasons he avoided towns. Or one of the reason he had in Cyrodiil, in any rate. Generally, anyone who got in front of him found themselves between him and and somebody else. They usually wound up dead. So far he hadn't done in any of them himself. They just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. This was one of the reasons why he had managed to survive in his early days - unfortunate and unlucky innocents had ended up unwittingly becoming his meatshields.

As he stepped on the streets, a thought occured to him. The whole previous scenario should have been prevented. There should have been at least one guard on the streets. For some odd reason, the streets had been devoid of guards. Sure, there were those in the shops - but the shop closest to the Brotherhood's planned ambush point had already been secured. The massacre of the Blacksmith was pretty easy to guess - the Breton and Imperial woman had killed them. The guards weren't so easy to explain. There were usually about five of them patrolling the streets at once - tough opponents, even for 7 Brotherhood assassins. And usually more in the watchtowers too. Even if they had killed the guards, the whole town would have noticed the scene. Even 7 Brotherhood assassins couldn't fight the whole of Caldera. Of course, there might've been more initial assassins, but Tedril couldn't see the Dark Brotherhood expending so many people even on him. Seven was already a stretch, though if they were new (the Redguard woman had at least proven that), that might explain the numbers. But that still left the question: Where could all the guards have gone? Tedril suspected the Redguard man absent in his original detection of the ambush had something to with it. And he had a sick gut feeling about the woman, too.

One step at a time. Deal with the adventurer first.

[Orisis]

The Mer wordlessly advanced upon the pirate, and suddenly, Pyr tensed. He didn’t like the way that dark elf was treating him. Yes. If that Dunmer had been a member of his crew, he would’ve had a word out of him before he could’ve taken another step. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a crew, and he wasn’t a captain of a ship. He groaned, kneeling by his guar to inspect it. The encounter just a few moments back had taken more out of him than he thought – it had been quite some time that he had such a bout. Usually, his opponents were several levels below him, or he was taking on enemies one by one. Neither of those were the case just then.

“You fought pretty well, elf,” he shrugged, not knowing what to say, “Why were those folks after your skin?”

His eyes took gauge of the mer. The mottled green-coloured cloak hid most of his visage from the former pirate. Most likely, underneath that cloak, he would find soft hide armour, and a myriad of weapons. The way he fought suggested that he was used to range – he had resorted to moves reserved for tavern brawls in his melee encounter with the imperials, and he had no dedicated short-range weaponry. Pyr shrugged. He would probably be rid of the Dunmer after a few words of thanks & hopefully a small payment, but he was curious.

[Ranger]

“You fought pretty well, elf. Why were those folks after your skin?” the adventurer questioned him.

Tedril stopped before the adventurer. He continued fingering his knife. He had committed murder once, when he was still a loose street-thief in the alleys of Imperial City. It had been mostly an accident... that was what Tedril kept telling himself. But accident or not, it had set Tedril on a path to which he was following to this day. The fugitive-from-the-underworld path. He faced the adventurer.

"Let me ask you a question. When you fought those men, what were your intentions?"

[Orisis]

"Hm?" Pyr never really needed a reason to get tangled up in other people's business," I s'pose it was when they chucked a knife at Georgie 'ere. Very... how'd you say it... unprecedented."