Gweden Farm was a wholly unremarkable-looking place, really. It just looked like every other farmhouse Baurus had ever seen - stone walls and a little rickety fence surrounded a half-hearted effort at a vegetable garden, all topped off with a charmingly stereotypical thatched roof. So far, so mundane. He had circled the building and checked all the windows, but all the curtains were drawn closed. There was no way of finding exactly what was waiting in there ahead of time.

Perfect. Baurus always did like surprises.

"Hey. Hey, Redguard." Styrbrand prodded Baurus in the shoulder impatiently. "Is it time to bust in there yet? All this sneaking... It's fine if you're not confident in your skills, but --"

"Let me guess. Real men don't check things out first, they barge their way in without thinking and get people killed." Baurus rolled his eyes. "Great plan, genius."

Styrbrand put his hands on his hips, a proud grin spreading across his face. "Hey, thanks. Do you think I should add 'genius' to my list of titles? It's getting a bit long now, but, you know. A man's worth can only be measured against his achievements, of course. Does 'genius' sound too wimpy to you? What titles do you have, again?"

"I'm Baurus the Exasperated."

"That doesn't sound very heroic. You should work on that. Maybe Baurus the Somewhat Mighty would be a good start. I mean, obviously you're not ready for the prestige of being unbelievably mighty, but --"

"How about Baurus, Slayer of Irritating Nords?"

"That's a bit better, but still lacking something. And everyone knows Nords can't be bested by puny Redguards - you have to be realistic," Styrbrand said. Baurus rolled his eyes.

"No, they just get beaten by pretty girls who don't even have to draw weapons. Now be quiet," he growled. "Just wait out here. If it sounds like trouble, then you can come in. If not, stay hidden. I don't want you messing this up."

"Why?" asked Styrbrand. "Are you trying to keep me from my chance for revenge? I get it - you want the glory for yourself, so you're taking my chance to regain my honour! Well --"

"SHHH!" the Redguard hissed. Why had he agreed to help this guy? "They'll recognise you if you go in there, and that'll put Pente in danger. And besides," he added, adopting a passable imitation of Styrbrand's voice, "I thought you'd never lift a blade to harm a fair maiden."

Styrbrand pouted. "I don't have a blade. They stole it."

This was getting them nowhere. Baurus glared and assumed the tone and posture of someone speaking to a naughty puppy. "Just stay here." He knocked loudly on the farmhouse door, letting out a frustrated sigh as he did so. Already, this was not going well.

"Um, come in!" a familiar voice called, muffled through the wooden door. Baurus cautiously opened the door, then froze in his tracks. Failing miserably at suppressing the snort of mirth that bubbled up from within him, he grinned widely. "Wow. Hi, Aranwen. Seen Pennykins anywhere?"

Pente scowled. "Shut up. Just s-shut up." She was wearing a dress that was clearly too big for her, along with a smear of red lipstick across her mouth that she had apparently tried to wipe away. It really did look like Aranwen had been appointed as her stylist. Scrubbing at her lips with the sleeve of the oversized dress, she waved her other hand at a door behind her. "The others are in the basement. I'm supposed to go and get them when you've drunk that," she explained, motioning towards a bottle on a nearby table.

"Drugged?"

"Yes. Before you got here, that Imperial was telling me about a big dumb Nord who managed to drink three bottles of it before he finally passed out."

"Big dumb Nord. No idea who that could've been," Baurus grinned. "D'you want to see if they'd like to meet him again?"

"O-okay," Pente nervously stuttered. Ugh - confrontation. It was late, she was tired, and definitely didn't think that helping Styrbrand had been one of her best ideas. This wasn't going to be fun. Pente turned towards the basement door and opened it, calling softly into the semi-darkness. "F-Faustina?"

The sound of eager footsteps clattered up the stairs as Faustina responded. "He's out of it already? By the grace of Mara, I expected it to take longer than..." her voice faded as she reached the top of the basement steps. "What's going on?"

Baurus waved, wiggling his fingers in a friendly manner. "Hi, there. I think you have something that belongs to someone I know. Big guy, blonde, not the smartest..."

"Signy! Tsarrina!" screeched Faustina, snarling and drawing back slightly. "She brought a bloody guard!"

The sound of more footsteps came from below, and Pente squeaked miserably as Baurus handed her the katana she had left behind in the Flowing Bowl. She really, really hoped this wouldn't come to a fight. Her level of competence certainly wouldn't be improved by having to manoeuvre herself in the oversized dress, after all. As Faustina's companions rushed into the room, Pente's heart sank. They were armed, and in such an enclosed space it would be difficult to avoid getting hurt. Even harder than usual, anyway, especially since they were outnumbered.

Faustina seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "It's three against two!" she crowed. "So if you wouldn't mind just dropping all your valuables --"

"You mean three against three!"

Everyone flinched as the door to the farmhouse was kicked open to reveal Styrbrand, who was looking unspeakably majestic. The effect wasn't even ruined by the fact that he seemed to be wielding a slightly damp tree branch in place of a sword. Not much, anyway. Pente was suddenly stricken with the urge to applaud, just like the first time she had seen the Nord make one of his dramatic entrances. This time, however, she managed to restrain herself.

"Show-off," muttered Baurus, turning back to the women. Styrbrand let out a little outraged noise, but said nothing.

"Oh." Faustina looked back at Signy and Tsarrina, who merely shrugged helplessly. "Hello, um, Styr. Lovely to see you again."

"A pity I can't say the same for you," roared Styrbrand, dramatically swishing his branch around. "I want my things back. Now. Or I'll... uh..."

"Give them splinters?" supplied Baurus.

"I'll do something," Styrbrand blustered. "You'd better not have messed anything up. If there's even one scratch on my armour, I --"

"We're not giving up, are we?!" Signy interrupted, glancing desperately at Faustina. "We can take on this rabble, no problem! The big guy's armed with a damn twig, the Redguard is --"

"A member of the Blades," Baurus said, shrugging almost apologetically. "Not just a guard. Sorry."

Signy faltered slightly. "...well, the Wood Elf can't be much trouble. She's small and weedy and --"

Baurus interrupted again. "...And she's the Hero of Kvatch. You might've heard of her."

Tsarrina dropped her weapon instantly, raising her arms in surrender. "Enough. This One knows when it is hopeless!"

Signy lowered her own blade, clenching her teeth as she did so. "Gods damn it..."

"Ugh." Faustina flung her sword to one side in a petulant display of anger. "Bugger."

Martin didn't know where he was.

Whirling around in a panic, he tried to get his bearings. This was not where he had fallen asleep. The room he was in was dark, the walls were burnt and the contents of the room were strewn everywhere, spilling from boxes and crates. Martin shivered at the sight of the small bed next to the window - it had been turned over onto one side, and the sheets were ripped to shreds. It didn't take a genius to figure out that something terrible had happened here...

It probably wasn't the best place to find himself in without any explanation, then. Damn! Stepping over an upturned wardrobe, Martin's panic mounted. He pinched himself, unable to believe what was happening. This has to be a dream! It's just impossible --

Oh.

Martin pinched himself again, just to be sure. No - he couldn't feel a thing. Then this was a dream, apparently, albeit a very vivid one. Well, that was reassuring! Feeling far less disturbed about his surroundings, Martin left the room. It would probably be best to just relax and let the dream unfold.

The rest of the house was equally as devastated as the bedroom, but Martin barely noticed the chaos as his feet led him outside. Ah - now he knew where he was. Kvatch. The city looked exactly the same as it did when he had left with Pente all that time ago - the fires were still burning, dead Daedra were still dotted around the street and there were no signs of life anywhere.

Still... The Imperial's stomach lurched in a violent pang of homesickness as he walked towards the city gates. He missed his old life terribly at times - everything had changed so suddenly, so irreversibly. Even though he thought he was adjusting well, it was still hard. While he had convinced everyone at Cloud Ruler Temple to stop calling him "Emperor", there were few people left who really thought of him as just Martin.

"Marty" didn't count.

Outside the city, the dream only got stranger. Martin walked northeast along the Gold Road, vaguely wondering why he was being followed by a herd of goblins riding unicorns. Is this what being one of the Dragonborn is about? Martin thought irritably. Because I assumed that these dreams were supposed to be a lot more prophetic and less...

One of the goblins saluted at Martin as it rode past, then winked at him roguishly. "Almost there, sire."

...less insane.

"Martin! Martin, over here!" a little voice called. Martin spotted Pente jumping up and down not too far away, waving enthusiastically. He walked towards her, feeling more confused than ever. At least the goblins didn't seem to be following anymore; they were starting to get creepy.

"What's happening?" he asked, assuming that the Bosmer was far more acquainted with insanity than he was. Pente pointed to one side, smiling.

"We thought you'd never get here! Look! It's Miscarcand."

"What?"

"It's Miscarcand. Didn't you hear her?" Baurus had appeared out of nowhere and was pointing in the same direction as Pente. Martin turned to look. It seemed they were indicating an old Ayleid ruin - a pretty big one, but otherwise unremarkable.

"That's Miscarcand? This is all very interesting, but --"

"That's right, it's Miscarcand." Narina had now joined the little group. Martin looked around shiftily - if any arrogant Nords showed up, he was leaving. "Do you see?"

"See what?!" Martin cried, passing a hand over his eyes in frustration. "What's the use of a dream where people pop up out of nowhere just to point at a ruin and tell me..."

Oh!

Martin sat bolt upright as he woke from the dream, his heart pounding. It's Miscarcand! Maybe there was something to all that talk about the Dragonborn seeing things in their dreams, then. He'd have to do some research to verify things, but this was still the best lead for the location of a Great Welkynd Stone that he had.

Though next time his dreams had anything to tell him, he rather thought he'd prefer a vision with fewer goblins.

The next morning brought mixed emotions for Pente. On the one hand, she was happy to be getting the whole gate-closing business over with - they had come to do a job, after all, and putting it off was only going to put people in unnecessary danger. The Gate had to be closed as soon as possible. It was just that simple.

On the other hand, she was bloody terrified. Baurus didn't seem too happy with the situation, either. They were waiting outside the inn where they had spent the night, and Baurus was pacing back and forth in agitation.

"What's taking him so long?" the Redguard muttered, quickening his pace. He was definitely unusually irritable this morning. Pente quietly took hold of his arm and steered him to a standstill.

"Um, he said he had to prepare. Something about polishing his sword."

Baurus raised an eyebrow. "Polishing his sword. Styrbrand said that."

"Yes. What's wrong?"

"He... Ugh. This isn't the time. I'm going to go get --"

"I have arrived!" Styrbrand announced as he swaggered impressively from the inn, prompting a tiny groan from Baurus. His armour was polished to a remarkably reflective sheen and he cut a thoroughly majestic figure as the morning sunlight glinted off him. The effect was only enhanced by the two-handed claymore that the Nord had sheathed at his back.

"Show-off," Baurus muttered again in disgust.

"I kind of see what he meant about not wanting to use this," Pente confessed, patting the hilt of her katana. "It does look kind of feeble compared with what he's used to."

Baurus rolled his eyes. "Uh-huh." He leaned down and whispered something in Pente's ear. Her brow furrowed in confusion as he pulled away, smirking.

"I don't get it," she said loudly, "Overcompensating for what?"

The Redguard couldn't help but grin as Styrbrand spluttered indignantly. "So, everyone ready?" he asked, assuming the most innocent expression that he could. The Nord glowered, muttering darkly, while Pente nodded. "Come on, then. The sooner we're done with this, the better."

Upon approaching the Gate, it became clear that a small crowd had formed around the spiked structure. Pente's stomach clenched in horror as awful possibilities crossed her mind. Why are so many people here? I hope nothing's happened. Mother Mara, what if someone's already in there? What if someone's been killed? Oh my, maybe more than one person --

Her fears were dispelled as one of the figures turned around and pointed excitedly. "Look, look! That's her! She's here!"

"That's her? The short one?"

"Not what I expected. She must be undercover."

"Miss Pente, Miss Pente! Over here! Remember me?"

Pente forced a tight, nervous little smile. "H-hello, Thaurron. Um, why are there so many --"

"See!" Thaurron cried, turning to the crowd. "The Hero of Kvatch knows my name. She's not just a faceless hero, she takes time to get to know the people! So awe-inspiring..."

Pente covered her burning cheeks with her hands and made a tiny little flustered noise of distress. "Can we hurry and go? I'm not..." She looked up through her fingers at Baurus. "This is k-kind of uncomfortable."

"Not enjoying having your own fanclub?" Baurus laughed. "Come on, then. Let's go." Without any fanfare, they walked straight into the portal. Styrbrand hesitated slightly, looking back at the crowd.

"If anyone wants to know, I'm Styrbrand, the Unbelievably --"

"Hey!" A guard shouted, pushing his way through the gathering. "Hey, didn't I warn you away from there a couple of days ago?! Get away from the fetching Gate!"

"Never mind," Styrbrand spluttered, hastily hurling himself into the flames.

Aranwen scowled at her reflection in the mirror. The day had not started well. Carefully fluffing her hair around her face, she narrowed her eyes critically. Perfect, as ever. But...

Something was bothering her. Something important. Oh, in the name of Y'ffre - she was going to have to ask Jauffre about it. Aranwen knew it was going to bother her all day if she didn't get it sorted out. Pursing her lips, she set off down the stairs in search of the Grandmaster.

"Morning, ma'am!" Belisarius smiled, saluting at Aranwen as she stomped past him. "Lovely day, isn't it?"

"Hmm? Oh, if you say so, darling," Aranwen replied, absently chewing her lip. She stopped walking for a moment and turned towards the Blade. "Achille, sweetie?"

"Belisarius, ma'am."

"Oh, yes. Slip of the tongue, dear. Listen, I... I don't suppose you heard anything unusual last night, did you?"

"I'm afraid I wasn't on the night watch, ma'am. Cyrus didn't mention anything when I came to relieve him, though. Is there something amiss?"

"Oh, nothing for you to fret over. Carry on, dear." Aranwen continued onward, beginning to doubt herself now. Maybe she hadn't heard what she thought she'd heard... She finally found Jauffre in the kitchen and pulled him to one side.

"Jauffrecakes? I --"

"Good morning," Jauffre said mildly. "What's wrong?"

"That's what I'm trying to... Oh. Good morning, sweetiekins." Aranwen waved a hand dismissively - this was too urgent to bother with pleasantries! "Do you know who Carcan is?"

Jauffre's face displayed utter confusion. "Carcan? I don't believe so. Is it even a name? Why do you ask?"

"I heard someone... someone mention a Miss Carcan." Aranwen's gaze slid evasively to one side. "I was just wondering who they were referring to, dear."

"Miss Carcan. I don't think I..." Jauffre thoughtfully scratched his head. "The closest I can think of is Miss Carvain. Countess Narina," he explained. He wasn't expecting the Wood Elf explosion that followed his words.

"That harlot!" Aranwen raged, stamping her foot angrily. "Oh, I know her game! She swans her way in here like she's Empress already, then corrupts poor little Marty to the point where he's shouting for her in his sleep! I --"

"Aranwen," Jauffre interjected, "Please calm down. I'm sure you must have misheard." He paused for a second. "May I ask why this is any of your concern?"

The Bosmer grimaced shiftily. "I don't want to see Marty hurt, of course. I think you should stop that woman from coming here in future - for his benefit, of course. Poor Marty, he's just so trusting..."

"She's already here," Jauffre replied, deliberately avoiding Aranwen's eyes. "She's assisting him in the library again, and --"

"Alone?!"

"Yes. But -- Aranwen! Come back!"

A Wood Elf whirlwind burst into the library, her face a picture of indignant fury. "Just what are you two doing?" she hissed, scowling at Narina.

"Research," Martin calmly smiled. "Is there something wrong?"

"I..." Aranwen faltered, glancing behind her as Jauffre followed her into the room. "I just... um..."

"Look! Miscarcand is mentioned here," Narina piped up. She nudged Martin and pointed to a passage in the book she was reading. "There, look. And it doesn't seem like it will be easy to --"

"Miscarcand?" Jauffre interrupted, glancing meaningfully at Aranwen. "What's that?"

"An Ayleid ruin. It seems like a likely candidate for a place to get our Great Welkynd Stone," explained Martin. He turned back to the book that Narina was reading and Jauffre began to lead Aranwen out of the room, shaking his head in exasperation.

"There!" the Breton exclaimed, when they were out of earshot. "Miscarcand. That's what you heard." He sighed, noting Aranwen's doubtful expression. "There's nothing untoward going on. Don't worry about things that don't matter."

"Oh, I suppose you're right," Aranwen mumbled, touching her face self-consciously. "Worrying causes wrinkles, and Y'ffre knows I don't want those. I have to stay looking fabulous for my Jauffrekins, isn't that right?"

Jauffre sighed heavily. "Yes, dear."

I'm alive! Alive! By the Nine, we're alright!

As Pente emerged from the wreckage of the newly-closed Gate, she felt nothing but euphoria. Closing the Gate had been easy. Simple. Child's play. Of course, Baurus and Styrbrand had done all the work; they'd been very competitive about who could kill the most Daedra in the shortest amount of time. Pente was just happy that she'd been able to scurry around un-noticed.

Stepping away from the remains of the Gate, she was met with cheers from the assembled crowd. As the people gathered around her, she shrank back and hid behind Baurus. Fame and attention weren't welcome side-effects of all this, particularly when she was covered with ash and dirt. Yuck. Thaurron ran towards them, practically bouncing with enthusiasm.

"That was astounding, ma'am! The way the Gate just collapsed in on itself... The three of you running from the wreckage..." Thaurron enthused, clapping politely. "Truly inspirational! I almost wish I'd been in there with you."

"Um, thank... thankyou. But it was my f-friends, not me," Pente coughed, trying to clean her face. "They did most of it. Them. Those two."

"So modest. The mark of a true hero. So who are they?" Thaurron asked, looking up at the two men with interest. Styrbrand stopped trying to shake the ash from his hair and instead assumed a heroic pose, puffing out his chest.

"I am Styrbrand, the Unbelievably Mighty, Touched by Destiny, Chosen by the Nine and... Closer of Gates." The Nord nodded. Yes, that was definitely something to add to his list of titles. Slayer of Daedra, too, perhaps, but then - he didn't want to go overboard, after all. Hmmm. "You can call me Styrbrand the Unbelievably Mighty. Or Styrbrand the Heroic. Perhaps just Almighty Styrbrand, Peerless Warrior."

Baurus raised a hand. "I'm Baurus." Styrbrand shot him a disdainful look - didn't he know anything about heroism? Self-promotion was essential! Well, his loss. Thaurron didn't seem put off, though.

"Wow," he breathed, staring at each of them in turn. He sagged suddenly, as if literally deflating. "I suppose you can't stay long? Places to go, Gates to close?"

"Right," Baurus nodded, with a glance at Styrbrand. "I don't know about him, but we really have to go as soon as possible..."

"Wait!" Styrbrand bellowed, excitedly. "Wait, I should come with you! We can close the Gates together and be heroes --"

"No," Baurus said flatly. "No. Not a chance. No way."

Styrbrand pouted. "But... Wait!" He brightened instantly, filled with enthusiasm. "Now I've closed a Gate, they have to let me close more, don't they? The guards, I mean," he blustered. "Not that they could really stop me, but, uh... You know. It's best to avoid the loss of innocent lives and... stuff."

"What, on your own?" Pente squeaked. "By yourself? Nobody else?"

Styrbrand shrugged. "You did it at Kvatch. And by my estimation, I'm at least... twice as heroic as you. And a lot more manly."

"I'll pass the message along to the other Mages Guild branches," Thaurron piped up, happy to be helpful. "I'll let them know that Styrbrand the Unbelievably Mighty and Destinyful and Shiny is coming to assist the Hero of Kvatch. Will that do? Then they'll be ready for you!"

"Assist?" whimpered Styrbrand, his voice a pathetic squeak. Thaurron ignored him.

"O-oh, while you're sending messages, could you send one for me?" Pente asked. "I need to get a message to a man called Jauffre. Just to let him know how things are progressing, of course. The message needs to go to... Wait." She turned to Baurus. "Baurus, are we allowed to mention Cloud Ruler Temple, or is it a secr--"

"Send the message to Achille, courtesy of the Bruma Mages Guild," Baurus hastily interrupted. They'll know where to send it from there."

"Alright. What's the message?" Thaurron asked, conjuring a quill and parchment from thin air.

"I'll write it." Baurus took the quill and began scribbling. Thaurron gave Pente an odd look.

"So... where are you going next?"

"I'm not sure. Somewhere near, I suppose. We have to close all the Gates really fast," Pente mumbled, fumbling through her bag for a map. "Skingrad, I guess..."

"Why would you need to go somewhere close?" Thaurron trilled. "I can transport you anywhere you like in a jiffy! There's a spell I've been working on based on some research I did in Morrowind. Do you know, they do fabulous work on magic there! Those Telvanni, they're crazy as they come but so powerful --"

"Teleportation?" Baurus asked, shooting Thaurron a suspicious glance as he handed over the completed letter. The mer nodded.

"Yes. Similar to the recall spells some mages use, but with some fine-tuning by yours truly!" He beamed. "I could send you anywhere you wanted! That way you could close Gates at one end of Cyrodiil while your friend works from the other. Sounds good, no?"

"It'll get us there faster," Pente said, turning to Baurus. "And we need to be quick, r-right? What's the worst that could happen?"

"I don't know. That's the trouble. How much testing have you done?" Baurus asked, turning back to Thaurron.

"Oh, extensive tests. There's no chance that anything could go wrong. It's flawless."

The Redguard sighed in resignation. "Fine. Cheydinhal, then? Styrbrand can start work on the Gates nearer here, and we'll meet somewhere in the middle."

Pente nodded and clutched Baurus' arm. "Okay, r-ready!"

Waving his hands in an elaborate twisting gesture, Thaurron chanted under his breath. With a final flourish of his arms, he sent waves of magicka soaring towards Pente and Baurus...

There was a loud bang, a scream, and a thick cloud of green smoke. As it began to clear, it seemed that Baurus and Pente had disappeared. Or exploded, though the lack of any mess seemed to indicate the former.

Coughing, Thaurron waved a hand in front of his face. "G-goodness. That never happened in the testing phase. I suppose people must react differently to the spell than imps do... Hmm. Something to ponder. You next, Mr. Styrbrand! Where to? Skingrad?"

Styrbrand gulped. "I think I'll walk."

Notes: Little does Martin know that his trippy dream wasn't prophetic Dragonborn-type stuff at all - Narina spiked his drink with Skooma to get him back for the Rotmeth thing. OH NOES!

Um, or not. :D