To a band of assassins went a lizard named Bann-Je

Clumsy he was, one of no great feat

To hone his skill, to save his life

The master bid him meditate, that others would pass to death's dark night

In the depths of his mind came the shattering of faces

A dark shadow emerged, armed with all of death's graces

To stab, the poison, to kill, to concentrate as he aimed

Thus was Squints his Eye given his name


To the person on a mission, gear is important. Yet, it also reflects the personality and the person that chooses and wears it. Armor, weapons, supplies, all of it pointed to either an experienced traveler or a foolish wanderer should the final kit either be lacking or overburdening. Even then, the gear chosen points to the personality and sometimes the story of the person who carries it.

Claudia had a full suit of leather armor, appropriately thick to give her protection but not bulky enough to get in her way or interfere with her archery. For added protection, a layer of chain mail covered her vitals. She could not be bothered with a helmet, she would have to take the risk. She valued her archery more and she had yet to find a helmet that did not interfere with her aim.

She carried at least two daggers, depending on how many she felt appropriate. One was always tied to her boot, the other always hidden somewhere on her person. However, the two weapons she treasured the most were given to her by her family. Her bonemold bow was a family heirloom, one they believed came all the way from Morrowind. Bonemold weapons and armor were a big deal over there and this composite bonemold bow had served her and her ancestors well. Sadly, no one knew just how it got into their hands.

Then there was the steel rapier. Claudia did not carry it often. The metal was plain but the weapon was not. Few in Tamriel had seen one, fewer knew how to use it, much less fight with or against it. Claudia was trained in its use and knew how to counter several different fighting styles while using it. It was not easy, most swords across the mainland were made to be much heavier, the technique more brutal compared to the direct if less obtuse rapier.

Sibylla's equipment was the least complicated out of all of them. Her armor was solid steel fashioned after the classic Nord smithing techniques. Many of the armor pieces sported simple but blunt ridges designed more to further enforce the armor rather than act as an ornament. Her gauntlets where fashioned to have the likeness of snarling wolves on the top of her hand. Her helmet was fully closed save for the wide spaces for her jade green eyes to peer through. In an decorative flare, steel wings parted on her helms. Practically, they served to bar weapons from striking Sibylla on her temples. Visually, it was not hard to imagine her as an angel of war with the helmet on.

Her prized possession was Head Reaper, her massive glass battle ax that stood almost a head taller than her. The metal was far from translucent but its green color readily matched with her eyes. There was not a single rough or abrupt edge on the blade, everything polished smooth save for the wide, wicked arc where the ax's killing blade was. Even the end of the shaft ended in a blunt, pointed pummel which Sibylla had learned to use in her favor.

Bann-Je, while he wore tough leather boots, did not have any sort of protection for his lower body, just simple cloth breeches. He needed stealth and full range of motion to operate to his best. It was riskier for him but he had learned to compensate. Nonetheless, his upper body was encased in a hardened leather armor, thin steel sheets covering only the most vital or sensitive areas. Even then, these sheets were covered over by another layer of leather so it was not readily noticable.

Bann-Je was a minimalist by nature and compulsion. Four thin, stout daggers were strapped to his belt, each coated in a different, exotic poison. Only he knew which dagger did what and which three were fatal with no redemption. The fourth had an antidote to it, an antidote rare to come by though he carried a vial of it somewhere on his person. In fact, he carried several anti-toxins in secret on him as well as more secret vials of poisons. Two throwing daggers were strapped to each boot, four altogether. And of course, he always had access to his bound blades which he could conjure from the ether.

Secretly, there was another dagger which he kept on his back. This one was also coated in poison but it was not a fatal one. It was only designed to make its victim quickly fall asleep, mimicking death or allowing Bann-Je to carry them off without protest. There was an antidote to it to rapidly counteract its effects. Of course, there was always the option to let the body metabolize the poison on its own which would take several hours.

Bann-Je, whether in jest or in irony, called this blade "Peace."

And then there was Do'Ravier. Long before he started donning mages' robes did he learn to love wearing such long fabric. With the right material you could keep the brutal sunlight off of you, or the biting cold out. It also didn't do a bad job of hiding the fact that he wore scale armor made of Dwarven metal. Anyone who asked where he got the armor received the same story. A desperate blacksmith came to him as his only child was dying of fever and all the other healers had failed. Realizing that the situation was desperate, Do'Ravier was left little choice but to go with a hunch and subject the patient to a double whammy of healing spells and a strong restorative potion. The treatment turned out to be excruciating but the results were definitive. The child lived and with no ill effects.

The smith, seeing the Khajiit's Dwarven spear, decided he could do the mage a favor.

The armor was made of overlapping scales, giving a balance of both protection and flexibility. The bronze amber armor was stronger than its steel counterpart which made it more valuable. Do'Ravier's feet were not humanoid, he stood naturally on the balls of his feet so the smith made metal coverings for his paws. The tips were lined with leather so the metal would not clank against the ground. Finally, perhaps as a nod to his race, the tips of the gauntlet's fingers ended in small, sharp, metal spikes fashioned in the shape of claws.

Do'Ravier just tried not to think of all the valuable Dwarven artifacts that got melted down to construct the armor.

The road to Northpoint was long, strenuous and chilly. While the landscape was nowhere close to the mountainous terrain of Skyrim, it was still rocky, pocketed with hills and valleys and the roads occasionally meandered. Also, winter was in the air while most of the trees were bare. Every now and then a strong gust would blow down from the north, reminding them that soon the snow from Skyrim would find its way down there. All of them were occasionally trying to seek more warmth from their clothes than was usually to be found.

"It's cold. Again." Bann-Je shivered, his breath practically forming clouds in the cold air.

"I wish my cloak was heavier." Do'Ravier huffed, huddling into the black, heavy cloth.

"Oh please, this is nothing. You two would not survive a trip up to Winterhold." Sibylla laughed, enjoying the chilly weather.

"There is a reason I never volunteered to go anywhere further north than Khull in Vvardenfell." Bann-Je grumbled.

"Winterhold? Nope, can't say the name ever sounded appealing to visit." Do'Ravier shook his head.

"Haha, you two better learn to deal with it. We're only halfway to Northpoint and it's only going to get colder." Sibylla chuckled.

Both Bann-Je and Do'Ravier groaned in disappointment.

"So do you allow them to maintain this banter? This lack of discipline?" Alaviera asked from the back, question directed to Claudia.

True to the Thalmor directives, Alaviera had come along for the ride. She had her full set of Elven armor. In fact, all of her equipment, armor and weapons, were of Elven make. Her shield, dagger and longsword were all Thamor issue and kept up to their high standards of maintenance.

"We're not regular military, Alaviera. Also, they know how to pay attention and live at the same time. We're not expecting hostiles and this area is not known for bandits." Claudia explained cordially.

"I see. We usually assume danger no matter how unlikely." Alaviera murmured.

"It would probably help if you didn't piss off the locals where you went." Sibylla commented.

Claudia braced herself to break up a fight but Alaviera thankfully did not rise to the Nord's challenge.

"Sibylla, be nice." Claudia scolded, settling for that instead.

Meanwhile, in the back, Bann-Je glanced at Do'Ravier.

"This is going to be a continuing problem, isn't it?" Bann-Je muttered.

"I know Sibylla is not winning us any favors, but do you honestly want to tell her to stop? Even better, do you think you can convince her?" Do'Ravier said.

"No." Bann-Je replied as they plodded along.

They continued on in silence, the only noise coming from yet another strong gust of wind blowing into their faces.

"It's cold!" Bann-Je complained.


The city of Northpoint was smaller than Wayrest and had a much more rustic feel to it. Many of the roofs of the buildings were simple thatched, wooden structures, the foundations generally rough, uncut stone mortared together with a very grainy cement. Still, it was shelter and civilization. That was far better than spending a night out in the cold wilderness. The group, tired from a day's journey, had unanimously staggered into the nearest tavern to rest their feet and fill their bellies.

Claudia could understand if the glances of the patrons lingered a little longer than usual when they stepped in. First off, they were all unfamiliar faces, visitors newly arrived into the city among people who had never seen them before. Second of all, Claudia had to be frank about the company she was keeping. She, Sibylla, Bann-Je and Do'Ravier, despite their armor and weapons, were all wearing traveling cloaks with hoods that were standard issue for the Vigilant of Stendarr. And they had a Thalmor in their midst. It sounded like a corny opening line to a joke. Four Vigilants of Stendarr and a Thalmor walk into a tavern...

"It's a little late and our selection has dwindled to only roast hen. I hope you visitors have no objection to that." the Breton bartender with gray eyes and short black hair apologized as they took their places in front of the bar.

"No problem at all." Claudia replied, certain she was speaking for all of them. None of the others objected.

"I'll have a tankard of Mead with my order." Sibylla added.

"Do you have any Elsweyr Cactus tea?" Do'Ravier asked excitedly.

"Sorry, Khajiit. The caravans might have it but no one here seems to order it so I don't purchase it myself." the bartender shrugged.

Do'Ravier grumbled his annoyance before tossing a coin at the man with the order to "Surprise me."

Claudia had scarcely sat down to enjoy her meal before Alaviera hit her with another question.

"Will we be meeting your contacts here?" the High Elf asked.

"No. We're to meet them at the temple here." Claudia explained, scarcely able to keep her mouth from watering from the smell of roast hen.

"Will you meet them afterwards then?" Alaviera inquired curiously.

"You're a little slave driver, aren't you?" Claudia smirked at her.

"What? No, I was just curious. I suppose it's always about getting the objective done immediately with the Thalmor." Alaviera shrugged.

"Getting onto the mission will start on its own time. Right now we are tired, hungry and I'm sure the other Vigilants may be sleeping. There's a time for everything, Alaviera." Claudia instructed before getting on with her meal.

"Understood." Alaviera nodded.

Sibylla was half tempted to make a snide remark but decided against it. Instead, she noticed a Nord bard starting to get his instruments set up. It looked like there would be entertainment tonight at the tavern. Skyrim was only a stone's throw from Northpoint. She wondered if the bard would have any good songs from her homeland. Interest rising and her meal mostly finish, the tankard of mead was the most important part anyway, Sibylla rose from her seat to stand with the growing group of people who wanted to hear.

Bann-Je was eating his meal methodically. The meat was cut into strips deliberately, slowly and systematically. He would alternate between meat and vegetables. Every third bite was interrupted with a mouthful of bread. Every fifth mouthful was to wash down the food with a drink. He had a system to this. This was in contrast with Do'Ravier who ate the greens first before voraciously attacking the hen. Soon, he was muttering to himself about it "needs more flavoring."

Bann-Je was unsure if he should have become alarmed when he noticed the mage sprinkle some salt, pepper and fire salts onto the food. He settled for sliding his stool just a few more inches away from him.

Bann-Je looked over when he saw a Breton knight take the seat on Do'Ravier's other side. Claudia and Alaviera were quietly talking to each other. If Do'Ravier noticed the newcomer, he paid more attention to the chicken he was eating.

Bann-Je was certain the Breton was a knight. The man had that air about him. His armor, expensive steel plate armor that was as well polished as it was beautifully adorned, could have practically acted as a mirror to anyone gazing into it. The man's long, black hair was greased, slick so that it easily remained combed behind his ears and falling just below his neck. His features, while kind, were also confident. Bann-Je knew the type. This was a knight who still had not been scourged through actual combat. Sure, he may have saw some actual fighting, maybe he even had knocked a bandit over the head or two, but that was not actual, brutal struggle. The knight had still not seen bare evil.

His world was still glowing with the romanticized tales of chivalry and glossy songs.

"Good day to you two sirs. I hope you are enjoying your evening. My name is Sir Gervald. I am a traveling knight here in High Rock." Sir Gervald greeted courteously.

Bann-Je only nodded, Do'Ravier simply grunted while stripping the last piece of meat off a chicken wing.

"Might I inquire, but what is the name of the Nord beauty who travels in your companionship?" Sir Gervald asked.

"Hm?" Bann-Je grunted, taken aback by the question.

"What, you mean Sibylla?" Do'Ravier asked.

The three looked over to see that Sibylla was clearly enjoying the latest song that had migrated down from Skyrim. Do'Ravier was not paying attention to all the words. It had something to do with Stormcloaks and Sovengarde and some Ulfric fellow.

"Sibylla, her name is Sibylla? The woman who wears a gray cloak over her suit of armor, the blonde with the scar across her lips and carries a large glass battle ax." Sir Gervald described discreetly.

"Yep, that's her." Do'Ravier shrugged before stuffing his snout with a bread loaf.

"Now, I don't mean to be rude or forward gentlemen, but is...well, is she betrothed to another?" Sir Gervald pressed. Youl could practically see the eagerness in his eyes.

"Her? No." Do'Ravier shook his head.

Bann-Je let out a small grunt.

"Well then, if I could trouble you for one last question but...how might I win her attention?" the knight inquired, completely encouraged now.

"Well..." Bann-Je faltered. Every other man he saw make a pass at Sibylla became very intimate with her fist squashed into their faces. While he was thinking about it, he was starting to even wonder if Sibylla was capable of romantic affection.

"This one would not bother her. We are all on a mission for Stendarr. Besides, she would not be impressed with song or flowers. Now that this one thinks about it, she'd probably be more impressed if you challenged her to a dual or something." Do'Ravier replied carelessly, finishing the last of his chicken.

"Hmm, I shall have to think about it. Thank you, good sirs." Gervald gave a small bow before walking off. With that, the knight disappeared off into the city of Northpoint.

"Do you think it was wise, telling him all that?" Bann-Je asked Do'Ravier quietly.

"Worse comes to worse, if she gets mad at him and punches him in the face, it might take some anger off of Alaviera." Do'Ravier shrugged.

"And what if she gets angry at you?" Bann-Je pressed.

"Me? How could anyone get angry with me? How else can you explain me causing two explosions in the cathedral and not be given the boot?" Do'Ravier grinned.

"Your logic is both convoluted and mildly convincing." Bann-Je murmured.

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully.


Sibylla woke early the next morning. Last night they had all made their way over to the Northpoint Temple and found lodgings to rest. Having dressed, Sibylla gazed at one of the stained glass windows and judged by the darkness behind it that the sun still had not begun to rise over the horizon. She found that this was the best time to pray for her.

She once heard Do'Ravier lecturing someone on the fact that anyone had the right to be proud of their faith, that it need not be a source of shame. While Sibylla was sympathetic to that belief, she viewed this privacy not of one that she was fearful of what others would think, only that she found this the most comfortable for her. She believed for the reasons that she had, she was not good articulating them but she did not care. She just preferred it this way.

Maybe that was not the whole truth. Back when she was part of the sellswords group she worked with, strength and callousness were the qualities they looked for and reinforced. They did not praise brutality but they wanted strong fighters who did not show any weakness. Caution was only tolerated when trying to keep causalities down. Anything that smelled of weakness or meekness was squashed or derided.

Sibylla did not see praying for safety on the eve of battle as a sign of weakness but the sellswords had thought otherwise. Those years changed her more than the environment of her childhood did. This was one of the habits that did not die, praying in secret, but praying earnestly nonetheless.

And maybe there was one last reason.

"Divines, I ask again that you watch over me and the others..."

Sibylla opened her eyes and glanced around, verifying that she was indeed alone in these gray hours of the morning. She paused and waited, listening to make sure there was utter silence. Her voice then dropped even further, scarcely even the hint of a whisper.

"...And Talos, whenever you'd like to put those Thalmor in place, the sooner the better."

Rising from the shrine to Arkay that she knelt in front of, Sibylla got up and then left to wait for the others to wake.

Claudia had instructed them to meet for breakfast at seven that morning. The others had assumed that they would eat while the other Vigilants explained the situation they were walking into. Bann-Je wondered if it was wise to discuss grisly things over a meal but decided all of them had seen their fair share of horrors that would by all accounts prevented them from sleeping well at night. Another ghost story was unlikely to change their sleeping pattern, much less their stomach for such things while they ate.

Still, the Argonian had a slight sense of foreboding weighing in his stomach as he sat down to eat.

Sibylla had been the first to arrive at the table, followed by Bann-Je and then Alaviera. Do'Ravier was uncustomarily late this morning and his fur was still matted from sleeping but he did appear well rested nonetheless. It was then that a mousy looking Breton showed up, he had short cropped black hair and was clean shaven though Sibylla thought his ears were a tad bit too big for his head. Still, he smiled when he showed up and sat down but did not introduce himself. The others felt it was still too early in the morning to be jumping to pleasantries.

Finally, Claudia showed up with a Dark Elf right behind her. For a moment Bann-Je wondered if this was the Dark Elf Claudia had mentioned meeting at the party a few weeks back but upon seeing that the Dark Elf wore the traveling cloak of the Vigilants, he decided against it.

"I apologize for my lateness, Claudia here has made sure I did not sleep in. My name is Couran, this is my partner Jaspier. We're the two that found the werewolf victim." Couran the Dark Elf introduced plainly as he sat down at the table, Claudia next to him.

Couran, like Jaspier, also had a friendly smile, his skin just barely darker than a clear blue sky at noon. His large red eyes were certainly intimidating although they had no malice in them and his features were not as sharp as most elves. His accent was also rather pronounced.

"So what makes you so sure this was a werewolf attack?" Sibylla asked, getting right to business as she ate.

"I understand why you might be skeptical. This is not something we want to just jump at. A werewolf about is enough to cause no small amount of panic-"

"Just get to the point." Sibylla grumbled despite Claudia giving her an accusatory glare.

"Right, right. Forgive my rambling. Anyway, the victim was barely recognizable. Most of the neck was eaten away as well as well as other parts of the body. Jaspier and I had hoped it would just be a tragic case of someone getting mauled by a wild animal but all the hunters in the town had never seen such injuries as these. The Vigilant head here also was suspicious. When the hunters had met, they all remarked that the wounds looked like those caused by a great wolf...well, it didn't take long for the idea to carry on from there." Couran explained, almost sounding apologetic.

"Bann-Je and Do'Ravier have both worked with healers. Perhaps they could examine the body and give their opinion?" Claudia offered.

"By the Divines, no. The attack happened late last week. None of us know the conditions on how a werewolf attack victim might contract the disease and become a werewolf themselves but we all judged it was better to be safe than sorry. We had to burn the corpse so we wouldn't have to worry about it re-animating. Do they do that?" Couran asked nervously.

Everyone glanced around the room before the stares slowly started to fall on Do'Ravier, the one who had the reputation for spending the most time with his head in front of a book.

Do'Ravier, who had been more interested in finishing his drink, belatedly noticed they were all looking at him.

"Don't look at me, I'm not expert on this disease. I suppose anything is possible." Do'Ravier shrugged sheepishly before finishing the drink.

"Very well. Could you show us where you found the body?" Claudia inquired.

"It's just an hour or so walk north of the roads here. We'll depart when everyone has finished." Couran agreed.

Within the hour they had set off on the road. The morning air was cold although the skies promised that they would have a bright sun to light the day. No one spoke on the walk up. Save for Alaviera, their cloaks swathed their armor to further protect them from the frigid temperatures but what weighed most heavily upon them was that they were going to a place where something horrible had happened not too long ago.

No one was quite sure if there was something keeping an eye on them at this very moment.

"Jaspier and I were brought here by the guard who found the body during his morning patrol." Couran suddenly announced, pointing to a spot that was just off the road. The place Couran highlighted was a shallow ditch, cold and bare now that the winter temperatures had killed off the vegetation.

"You said you involved the help of some hunters. Did they find anything to help you track down where the killer might have gone off?" Claudia asked as everyone looked to him.

"No. We searched but there was nothing." Couran shook his head apologetically.

"Are there any maps of caves and abandoned forts in this area?" Claudia followed up.

"Maybe. You'd have to talk to the lord of the city; he would know. I'm sorry, we've done all we can and it was the head of our station here that decided to call in a group more experienced than the people we had." Couran explained.

"I see." Claudia said, looking at the ground as she thought.

"The trail leads to here...and grows cold." Bann-Je commented, kneeling down on the spot of the crime while flicking his tongue to try and capture any scents.

"Also, and hopefully not related, one of the residents in the city started complaining about a...well...haunting. At their house." Couran shrugged nervously.

Jaspier shuddered, clearly not liking the idea.

"Would your group have any knowledge on that? Most of the Vigilants here in the city are new. And they described this particular haunting to be...bad." Couran said quietly.

Claudia became quiet as she weighed all her options.

"Do'Ravier, I want you to go back to the city and handle the exorcism of that house. Sibylla, you are to go with him. If you have time, try to get us some maps of the area, see if we could track down a place where someone would want to hide out around here in the wilds. Bann-Je, you're with me. We'll try to find something here the others have not." Claudia finally decided.

"Got it." Do'Ravier nodded.

"You honestly expect me to be able to punch an exorcism into silence?" Sibylla muttered, not happy with Claudia's decision.

"You'd be surprised. Still, I want you to be with him just in case this haunting is not so spectral." Claudia explained.

"And where should I go?" Alaviera asked.

"Do you have a preference?" Claudia shrugged.

Alaviera weighed her options heavily. She could go with Bann-Je and Claudia on what most likely would be a fruitless search at this point but she would learn more about Claudia's style. However, she did have orders to try and take off the cat should the opportunity present itself. She did not know how this opportunity would present itself but then again she had never gone to an exorcism.

"I'll go with Do'Ravier and Sibylla." Alaviera decided.

Sibylla blatantly scowled at the idea.

"She has that choice and we have no reason to deny her request on that. We do have to cooperate with the Thalmor." Claudia explained, seeing Sibylla's reaction.

"She'd just get in the way! What does she know about an exorcism?" Sibylla demanded.

"Do you know anything on an exorcism?" Claudia returned.

Sibylla's silent but protesting scowl was her only answer.

"So I suppose Do'Ravier has two students now. Enjoy." Claudia smirked.


It took some tracking down but after an a couple hours, Do'Ravier, Sibylla and Alaviera were standing outside the house with the alleged haunting. Jaspier had been the one to show them to the place. The house did not look like much on the outside, a simple building built of logs with a stone foundation. Despite its simple exterior, it clearly had two floors and most likely there was a basement underneath.

"So, what's the details behind the hauntings?" Do'Ravier asked earnestly, leaning his spear in the crook of his arm as he waited smiling.

Up until now Do'Ravier got the impression that Jaspier was the mouse-ish, shy sort but there was no way to confirm that. Turned out, Jaspier was far more awkward and skittish than Do'Ravier initially thought.

"T-t-the hauntings...w-w-w-well...p-p-people s-s-s-say they see...s-s-strange lights at n-n-n-night...t-t-terrible noises too." Jaspier sputtered quietly, just above a whisper.

"I see. Could I have a word with the owner?" Do'Ravier inquired, his voice showing that he probably felt bad for the skittish man.

"Y-y-you c-can't." Jaspier answered plainly.

"Well, why not?"

"H-h-he's dead. U-u-unless you can t-t-talk to the d-dead, y-y-you s-s-see why that m-might be a p-p-problem." Jaspier shrugged.

"How did he die and how recent?" Do'Ravier pressed.

"J-j-just t-t-three days ago. D-d-died of f-f-fright." Jaspier whispered, as if afraid a malevolent spirit might be getting ideas.

"I don't mean to sound insensitive but could you please stop that inane stammer?" Alaviera stated in annoyance.

Truth be told Sibylla was also annoyed by it too but now she just had to spite the Thalmor.

"People cannot help such things, show some common decency, Thalmor." Sibylla scolded.

"I-I-I-I'll t-t-t-try, m-m-m-miss!" Jaspier squeaked.

Do'Ravier clenched his eyes shut and sighed, realizing that Jaspier was now more frightened than ever and it was making his stammer worse.

"Don't you lecture me on manners, you brutish-"

"Excuse me!" Sibylla shrieked at Alaviera.

"Enough!" Do'Ravier shouted, his staff firing a blast of lightning into the air for emphasis.

The Khajiit got what he wanted getting the two to be quiet. Unfortunately, he also scared of Jaspier who took off like a frightened mouse. Letting out a groaning sigh, Do'Ravier was half tempted to give the two women a tongue lashing but decided against it. Instead, he took in a deep breath and calmed himself before summoning all his politeness to address the two women.

"Ladies, I would ask that you remain calm. Hauntings such as these require a subtle touch and a quiet, calm spirit. Angry spirits feed off of anger and malevolence. You do the opposite of what would come naturally to you in such-"

"Whatever, this is most likely foul play." Sibylla ignored the mage.

Without a shred of grace, Sibylla bluntly and adroitly cracked the door in two with a single swing of her ax. With a resounding boom, the two door halves broke off their hinges and were sent flying as the group was left staring into the interior of the dark house.

Do'Ravier was becoming more and more convinced he should have gone by himself.


Bann-Je stared out at the vast northern High Rock heavy, ancient forests would occasionally open up into small meadows that were really more rock than grass and barely deserving of the name. Flicking his serpentine tongue which he used to take in the smells around him, Bann-Je learned much from the forest. The sun was melting the evening frost and the ground smelled musty and rich from countless years of decay. The air was heavy with wood from broken bark and sap stood out strongly from the pine. Countless animals had come and gone and what little vegetation remained holding out stubbornly from the cold were already returning to the earth.

But not a single scent clearly pointed him to something sinister. Truth be told, he was not sure what he was looking for. He had honestly never tracked a werewolf before. Did they smell differently from regular wolves or were the scents so similar he would not know the difference? Did such abominations even leave a trail behind them or were they so unnatural he would not be able to count on such a thing.

Bann-Je just did not know.

Growing frustrated, Bann-Je trotted up to a large fir tree before scrambling up the trunk with surprising speed. Not a single flake of bark fell from his climb, not a trace to betray him. Traversing a large branch, the Argonian made his way to yet another fir tree. He paused to look around. He and Claudia decided to separate a little but not so that they could not reach each other quickly. He spotted her some distance away. She was taking her time, gathering in the surroundings but like him, it did not appear that she was onto any specific trail.

Their werewolf had practically destroyed its victim and disappeared into the forest.

Steadying himself against the trunk with one hand and leaning on a stabilizing leg, Bann-Je continued to survey what was before them. He did not know how big a stride werewolves took. He did not know any subtle clues they might leave behind in their wake. He did not know how long it took for them to return to their natural form or if they could even do it at will. Like this werewolf, he too was trained to disappear after a kill but now he had met something that just pulled a stunt just as good as he could.

It bothered him. Few creatures and people in Tamriel were as good as he. What if the creature was not even trained? Bann-Je shuddered at the thought that this monster pulled it off by accident or just naturally. A naturally good predator? That was suppose to be his job.

His tongue flicked out again, trying to gather in a scent that he could not find, looking for something he did not know. They were suppose to be the experts and he could tell they knew next to nothing.

And for the first time in a very long time, he started to feel uneasy about this mission.


Do'Ravier was doing his best to remain calm, trying not to grow frustrated with how Sibylla and Alaviera were acting. Emphasizing the need for serenity, Do'Ravier strolled into the darkened building and took a seat in the main living room that was in front of them, making himself comfortable.

Gathering in their surroundings, it was clear no one had been living there for a few days. While everything was in order, dust was beginning to settle on the unused surfaces and despite the daylight outside, it was rather dim inside. Do'Ravier noticed a lack of rugs on the floor but that could have just been the taste of the previous occupant. The mage wish he could have learned more before he scared off Jaspier but what was done was done.

Leaning back in the chair, Do'Ravier let out a comfortable sigh, closed his eyes and started to silently pray.

"You should probably tell us how we're going to attack this." Alaviera said outloud.

Do'Ravier held up a finger to show he was not done praying yet.

They waited in silence, no one talking while the awkwardness of the quiet startle to sink in. In fact, Sibylla started to feel that maybe there was indeed something foreboding about this place. She tried to squash such thoughts. She was letting the situation and the cowardice of Jaspier get to her. She was willing to bet that when this was all over there were going to find a more natural answer to this.

Right?

"We are going to wait." Do'Ravier replied suddenly, having finished praying.

"Wait?" Alaviera asked skeptically.

"Sure. Wait and observe." the Khajiit shrugged.

"What are we waiting for?" Sibylla inquired.

"Oh something...haunt-y-ish?" Do'Ravier murmured.

"That's our plan?" Alaviera scowled.

"Well, I don't have much other information to go on. If there's something angry in here and it's still angry, well, it might decide to pay us a visit, it might not. I haven't exactly done that many exorcisms and from what I read each are different." Do'Ravier explained.

"Just how many have you done?" Sibylla asked, realizing that she had never heard him talk of these things.

"Oh, well, there was that one crypt back in Elsweyr but that turned out to be just some angry, reanimated skeletons. Never figured out why they decided to wake up again. Fortunately, judging by how rotted their teeth were and their poor bone density, I thought they were skooma addicts in life. Maybe they just wanted moon sugar again." Do'Ravier shrugged.

"And that's it?" Alaviera asked skeptically, not liking his resume of experience.

"Well, there was going to be this house that was supposedly haunted in the Cyrodil countryside but an angry, petrified mob burned the house down before I could get there." Do'Ravier replied.

"I guess that stopped it." Sibylla smirked.

"Yes but now people complain of seeing an ethereal figure wandering around the area or sitting in the ruins of the old house. Guess ghosts can become homeless too." Do'Ravier answered.

"How long do these things usually take? I don't fancy waiting around for no reason." Alaviera grumbled.

Do'Ravier did not answer.

The two women followed his silent, concentrating gaze across the room. There, they spotted a cupboard. There was nothing significant about the cupboard, it looked like any piece of furniture someone would expect in Tamriel. Instead, what was interesting about it was that there was a lonely ceramic cup resting on top of it.

It was moving back and forth on the cupboard by an invisible force.

"Blessed Divines...that's a good trick." Sibylla said in a nervous chuckle.

"Sibylla..." Do'Ravier scolded quietly.

He wanted to stop Sibylla when she walked across the room towards the cupboard but decided that it would not amount to anything. You just couldn't stop Sibylla when she set her mind to something. The Nord opened the drawers underneath the cupboard top but saw nothing that might be manipulating the still moving cup. She waved her hands over the cup, not finding a wire or any other source of movement.

Finally, she grabbed the cup.

"It's stopped." Sibylla announced when the cup went still in her hands.

Alaviera let out a breath that she did not realize she was holding.

Do'Ravier was still sitting silently in his chair waiting for...something.

Finding the whole situation odd, Sibylla carefully let go of the cup. Nothing occurred. The cup continued to sit there placidly and no longer moved. She inspected the surface just a little longer but could find no explanation as to why it was moving a few seconds earlier.

She was just about to leave when the cup leaped up from the surface and shattered itself against her cloaked armor. The fragments flew everywhere, tearing some places of her cloak to reveal the armor underneath while cutting a thin red line across her cheek. Sibylla's cry of shock died in her throat as she touched her face. Her countenance wrinkled in anger as she saw the blood on her hands.

Alaviera, who realized she was holding her breath again, decided to take a step back. She thought maybe she would feel more comfortable standing against a wall, if she would ever feel comfortable again. However, no sooner did she lift her feet did she feel that something was wrong.

"uh...uh...w...we have a problem." Alaviera stammered.

"What?" Sibylla demanded angrily.

Both Do'Ravier and Sibylla looked over to see that Alaviera was standing in a pool of blood. It did not look like it was Alaviera's blood judging by the amount on the floor. Alaviera would have passed out if she had lost that amount. Besides, the pool of blood was clearly expanding on the floor, its reek unsettling and strong.

"Do'Ravier, what do we do?" Sibylla asked in a tone that showed she was very unsettled by the whole thing.

The Khajiit sighed and finally stood up. Making sure his spear was firmly in his grasp, he seemed to wait a moment as he gathered his thoughts. Alaviera meanwhile retreated from the puddle of red that was stillexpanding on the floor.

The Khajiit finally spoke but it was not to the women with him in the room.

"Very well, show yourself. You have our attention." Do'Ravier announced.

The door across the room violently slammed open.