Rain...it was raining, Líadain realized dimly. Her ears were still ringing from the roar of the Oblivion gate closing, dulling any thoughts she had. The Bosmer fell wearily to her knees, ignoring the mud that splattered upward. She heard the distant shouts of several people, and wondered what they were so excited about.

A hand slid under her arm, and lifted her up gently. Líadain blinked at Ginette's face slowly. Ginette put a finger to her lips. "Shh. Your head is bleeding, Lía. That last shield pushed you over the edge. Don't worry, we're going to get you healed." Líadain looked at her, confused at how softly she was speaking. "I-is Ralen...alr...?" She tried to speak, her tongue stumbling over the simple words. "He's fine. Don't try and speak." Líadain closed her eyes and leaned into Ginette, only too happy to comply. The Breton wrapped an arm around Líadain's waist, and guided her carefully to the waiting guards.

Despite herself, Ginette was worried. Líadain's wounds were serious, especially the head wound. "Take her to someone that can help. She's been wounded pretty badly." She spoke more sharply than she intended but didn't waste any time apologizing, instead handing Líadain to the surprised looking guard.

"What are you waiting for? She's hurt!" she snapped when the guard didn't move. Jumping like a rabbit, the guard hurriedly headed to the encampment. Ginette rubbed her temples as she stood in the pouring rain, and sighed deeply. She was lucky that nothing worse had happened. When she had grabbed the sigil stone, she hadn't had a clue what she was doing. For all she knew, it could have left Ralen and Líadain in Oblivion.

'You knew you would be safe though, didn't you? You didn't care about the others...just yourself. As always.'

Ginette flinched away from the thought as if stung. I did what I had to! They would have died if I did nothing. She hissed back mentally, but small waves of doubt washed over her.

But you didn't think about that, did you? You only hoped that it would save you, damn whatever happened to Líadain and Ralen.

Ginette pushed the accusing voice out of her mind with a small sigh. "One little trip to Oblivion, and I start talking to myself. I'll be joining Sheogorath soon, at this rate."

A questioning voice spoke up from behind her. "Talking to yourself? Perhaps you should be with Líadain." Ginette turned around to face Ralen, a slight frown on her face. She began to protest, but a hand on her shoulder silenced her. She spun around, startled. Savlian Matius was looking down at her, his weary face rejuvenated by joy.

"By the Gods, you did it! You brought down the gate! Do you know what this means?"

The Breton shrugged her shoulders and said sarcastically, "That I get to help out some more?"

Savlian gave her a hard stare and said uncertainly, "Well...since you offered, we do need your help."

Ginette was about to tell him that she didn't give a damn what he needed and she only wanted to get some sleep, but Ralen replied before she could. "You want us to help you with taking back Kvatch, correct?"

Savlian nodded vigorously. "With the gate down, we can get through. The city is filled with daedra though, and we will need all the help we can get." His face turned grim. "I do not expect many of us to live." Ginette gripped her steel shortsword that she had acquired from a guard. "We made it through Oblivion, we can make it through this. When do we attack?"

The Guard Captain looked them over carefully, and called his men over. "We attack now."

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With the guards' cries of "For Kvatch!" nearly deafening his sensitive ears, Ralen rushed forward. He didn't like charging in with no plan, but they would lose the advantage if they waited. The daedra wouldn't expect their gate to be closed, effectively cutting off a retreat plan and any hope of reinforcements. Ralen was certain that an attack from the guards was completely unexpected; the daedra likely believed they had already won.

With the slick mud barely slowing their stampede, the small group stormed into the city, fighting for all they worth. Adrenaline and desperation made a powerful combination, and the little band was gradually pushing the daedra back. Fireballs rained upon them and blades frequently bit into their flesh, but neither the guards nor Ralen and Ginette slowed. If anything, they fought harder.

Ralen slashed into the Dremora in front of him, its hot blood spraying. The chapel was growing nearer, and he could only hope they were not too late. If Martin was dead, they had already lost. Seeing an opening, he rushed to the chapel. Ginette called out a warning, and Ralen swung around to see a clannfear sprinting at him. The Dunmer walked backwards up the chapel steps, narrowly avoiding the clannfear's snapping jaws. Pushing the chapel door open with one hand, he kicked the clannfear in the snout and slipped through the door, slamming it shut as he fell through.

Dragging himself up from his knees, he heard a collective gasp. Before he had any time to think, a Redguard female had a blade to his throat. Ralen dropped his own sword and held up his hands, wondering why they were frightened. A quick glance at his hands showed him the answer. His normally ashen gray skin was coated with blood, and his red eyes gave him a small resemblance to a Dremora. Kvatch's people were already on edge; any newcomer would be regarded with an amount of wariness. A newcomer with blood-coated skin and red eyes would be particularly unwelcome.

Before the Redguard could act rashly, an Imperial in gray robes spoke quietly. "Tierra! I believe that is another survivor."

Tierra looked incredulously at Ralen, then stepped back in horror. "I'm sorry! I nearly killed you...I suppose we're all just on edge here."

She continued talking, but Ralen was already walking up to the priest. His blue eyes and softspoken way reminded Ralen eerily of the Emperor. The Imperial had to be the priest looked up from the bedroll of a wounded Argonian with a questioning expression as Ralen stopped in front of him.

"Yes?"

"You are Brother Martin?"

Sensing something amiss, Martin stood up and replied, "That is correct. What do you need?"

Ralen sighed; he felt a bit sorry that he was going to drag the quiet priest into this mess. "You are the Emperor's last heir."

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I don't know when I'll update. A close friend is in the hospital from a stroke, and I would appreciate it very much if you kept her in your thoughts.