The will-o-the-wisp, it seemed had done more than just damage Liam's willpower. The big man's mind was foggy and he found it hard to think, hard to concentrate. The black clouds overhead made it impossible to tell what time it was and so he stumbled into the Five Claws Inn and paid ten gold for a room.

He had no idea how long he had slept, but it had done little to change the fog in his brain. Rain pelted his face as he stepped out into the street. The sky had grown even darker and Liam suddenly realized he had slept what was left of the day away and now had to find Ahdarjii in the bleakness of this torrentially tortured evening. Stumbling through the half flooded streets he soon found himself in front of the chapel. He pushed open the massive wooden door. Hopefully he could find a healer who wouldn't ask for too much money in exchange for their services.

"Oh this kind of treatment won't cost you anything," the woman said smiling sweetly. "All you need to do is wash in the healing waters of the basin." She led Liam to a huge basin at the front of the immense building. "Wash your hands and face, that should be enough to cleanse your from what ails you.

Liam leaned forward and thrust his head under the water. For a moment all seemed well but then, with the violence of a lightning strike the magick of the basin threw him backwards into a long wooden pew from which he slid onto the floor, stunned and unhealed.

The sweet smile of the woman changed instantly to haughty indignation. "REPENT YOUR CRIMES WICKED ONE!" she shouted for all the world to hear and, snatching up a book from a nearby bench, walloped him as she chased him from the building.

Standing back out in the rain, Liam felt where his ribs had collided with the pew. Probably not cracked, he thought, just badly bruised. With nothing else to do, he slogged through the mud and the slop until he located a beggar. He might as well get on with the task Skriva had given him.

"I'm looking for Adharjii," he said, handing the beggar a few of his precious coins. The old gal smiled and hissed through rotting teeth where he would best be able to locate the Khajiit. Liam thanked her and set off through the storm, wondering if he would ever be dry again.

Ahdarjii, among sputterings of how much she hated the 'green skins', told Liam that her ring was stolen by one of the stinking foul lizard headed…. He waited patiently for her to finish the stream of hatred spewing from her lips, not because he was interested in what she had to say, but because she had told him she would pay very well and he really needed to get paid. Another trip out into the deluge and another expensive chat with one of the very "foul green-skin" beggars she hated so much, revealed that it had been Amusei, the Argonian he had, had to compete with to get into the Theives Guild who had stolen the ring and was now being held in the Imperial Prison. Liam's hopes of finishing the job began to fade.

"However," the beggar continued, "it is possible to bribe the guard if you wish to see him."

Bribe the guard. Liam groaned, this trip was going to cost him more than he was going to make he was sure. Squinting into the large drops of rain, Liam looked up into the sky. Night had fallen upon the waterlogged city. Liam grumbled as he made his way back to the Five Claws. He spent the last of his gold on a room, stripped off his soggy, muck covered leather garments, and fell into bed.

Rising early, Liam hoped for better luck this day. First thing he had to do was locate someone who would buy the things he had taken from the road bandits. He needed money if he was going to bribe a guard. Carefully going through the loot and making sure there was nothing in it that had any distinguishing marks, Liam gathered up the lot and headed for the nearest mercantile. It was a good haul and brought him nearly four hundred golden septims. He smiled as he headed for the prison; things were looking up. Two guards stood near the inner door of the castle and two more were stationed further in eyeing a suspicious looking she Orc pacing up and down the common area. Liam strode past all three and turned right heading toward a small door he was told would take him into the dungeons.

The hinges squealed as the door swung open. The guard on duty looked up with a sour expression; he obviously didn't like his job much. Confident that his gold would get him an audience with Amusei, Liam stepped up to the guard but the moment he opened his mouth to speak he could see something was wrong. The guard's expression had switched instantly from sour to astonished and a second later his sword was drawn and pressed against Liam's throat. From the table the Imperial lifted a piece of parchment.

"This just came in," he said. "It seems someone matching your exact description ran off with an Imperial mount on his way out of Bravil." Liam's whole frame seemed to wilt. "This is the drill…" the next thing the big Nord knew, he was being stripped naked, forced to wear the thinnest of burlap garments and tossed bodily into a cold stinking cell."

"I have to ask," said the guard as he locked the door behind Liam, "whatever possessed you to walk in here in the first place?"

"I was looking for Amusei," Liam sighed.

"Well it looks like you found him," the guard said. His laughter continued to ring in Liam's ears long after the Imperial had marched up the stairs and closed the heavy dungeon door.

Liam pressed his face against his cell bars. "Amusei," he called, "Hey, Amusei."

"Keep it down!" growled the lizard, "the less reason the guard has to come down here the better off we are."

"I need to talk to you," Liam said.

"Leave me alone."

Liam pulled a single lockpick from where he had managed to hide it before they locked him in. Gently he inserted it into the lock and soon the cell door swung open. If the Argonian wouldn't talk to him from cell to cell, maybe he would talk to him face to face.

"What!" He gawked at the Nord who now stood in front of him.

Liam found him much more willing to talk and soon discovered that the lizard had made his way back to Leyawiin after not being able to join the thieves' guild. "I'll trade you this lockpick for information about a ring," Liam said. Amusei grinned.

Padding softly up the dungeon steps, Liam snuck out into the hall. The guard's back was turned and he found it easy to slip down into the back room where he had seen them throw all his things in a large chest. His hand stretched out to open the latch and a feeling of utter dismay came over him. The chest was locked and he had just given his very last lockpick to an inept lizard who had probably already broken it in his cell door. Lifting lids on boxes and crates, he groped through their contents hoping to find some way to open the chest. His search paid off, there in the bottom of one of the emptier crates was another lockpick; no doubt taken from a previous dungeon tenant. Liam slid the pick into the lock but as he released the last of the tumblers, there was a flash of green light and his body stiffened, instantly frozen in its crouched state. He toppled over like a poorly crafted wooden toy, his face smashing painfully onto the stone floor as his buttocks shot awkwardly into the air. This was truly embarrassing. The castle mage must have put a paralyse spell on the chest to prevent prisoners from doing exactly what he had just done. If the guard came down the stairs at that moment, he would surely finished Liam off where he sat propped up like some bizarre bird pecking at the ground. His death would be the joke of the castle. Suddenly, and to Liam's great relief, the spell broke and he crumpled into an untidy heap. He took a deep breath and blinked rapidly to wet his dry eyes. It would seem that he still possessed a little bit of luck for which he was grateful.

Liam quietly opened the lid to the chest, took out his belongings and dressed as fast and quietly as he could. He gently lifted his pack to his back and padded up the stone steps, waiting at the top, listening for any sound of the guard's presence. Hearing nothing, he stepped softly around the corner toward the upper door. With a roar of delight the guard lunged forward, sword drawn in an attempt to skewer Liam to the wall. Liam narrowly dodged the blade. He was left with one choice and one choice only – run for his life.

The cries of the jailor echoed through the stone castle and before Liam had reached the outer doors the four soldiers in the common area were drawing their own weapons. Leaping and ducking, he miraculously made his way out into the city. Unfortunately, the sight of a huge, blonde Nord running like a mad fool gained more attention than he had considered possible as city watch from the street joined in the chase. The pursuing guards from inside the castle arrived with archers. Liam's water softened leather armour offered little defence against the arrows and he roared in pain as one pierced his thigh. Not daring to stop, Liam broke the wooden shaft from its embedded steel head as he ran. Outside the city walls he saw in the distance a road patrol of two Imperials headed straight for him. They too had heard the shouts from the pursuing city watch and leapt from their horses to help with the capture. This was Liam's only chance. He roared like a crazed bear, unnerving the closer of the two just long enough to dodge around him and, despite the pain and blood emanating from his wounded leg, threw himself onto one of the great bay geldings. With a kick and blood curdling yell, he pushed the horse into a frenzied gallop straight up the road back to Bravil. As the shouts of the Imperial Guard faded away behind him he raced on. One thing was certain, he didn't care who might be in danger on this foul road, he was not getting off this horse until he reached Bravil.